For the Love of Nick (6 page)

He held her close, and amazingly enough, she let him, even leaned on him, just for a moment.

Then she pulled free, ran a self-conscious hand down her hair and avoided his gaze.

“Here.” He took her down the hall and showed her the bathroom. “Take a shower if you’d like.” She looked so grateful and anxious to do just that, it hurt to even look at her. “Then…” He opened his bedroom door, wincing slightly because he hadn’t made his bed or cleaned up his clothes from yesterday, which were scattered across the floor. Kicking as many as he could beneath the bed, he jerked up the sheet and blanket, and caught her smiling. “What?”

“You really weren’t going to bring your date back here.”

“Of course not,” he said. Muffy—Molly, damn
it,
Molly
had offered her place. Not that it would have mattered. He’d never felt the need to change anything about himself or his house for others.

Though it didn’t escape him that if he’d known Danielle was going to be sleeping in his room, he definitely would have cleaned it.

Danielle laughed and, feeling a little left out as that laughter was clearly aimed at him, he put his hands on his hips and cocked a brow. “What’s so funny now?”

“It’s just that I pictured the two of you…”

“Pictured us…?”

Her face went a little pink. “She’s so pretty, you know, and wearing that dress, I thought you’d—”

“Drag her back here and ravish her?”

“Yes.” She shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. “Yes. Exactly.”

She’d pictured that? It must have been quite explicit, given the color on her cheeks. Still, Nick had to admit, there might have been plenty of ravishing going on, if Danielle hadn’t come along.

But she had, and now he couldn’t even imagine being with Molly tonight, which disturbed him.

“Here.” From his drawer, he pulled a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. “If you need fresh clothes to sleep in.”

She hugged the clothes to her chest and stared at him with those gray eyes that fifteen years ago he would have happily drowned in.

But he was older now. Wiser. She shouldn’t have still gotten to him.

And yet she did, in a big way. “Good night,” he said gruffly, pushing past her.

But when he got to the door, she called his name.

Not wanting to look back, badly needing to escape, he put his hand on the wood and reluctantly stopped. Slowly he turned, catching her dark gaze. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to take your bed. Please, Nick, the couch is more than fine.”

She had the same look on her face that she’d had at her prom. Surprise that he cared. Had so few people cared? It made his throat ache. “Take the bed.”

“Nick—”

“Take the bed,” he repeated, and shut the door.

Then he did as he did whenever he needed to clear his head; he went for a long, punishing run.

W
HEN
N
ICK GOT BACK
,
the house was quiet. His bedroom door was shut, and as there was no sign of the dog, he assumed Danielle had her, and that they were both asleep.

Good. He was hot and sweaty and pleasantly exhausted from his run. If he could grab a shower and fall asleep without kicking his brain into high drive, things would be even better.

He managed the shower part of the plan, and settled facedown on the couch. He made himself as comfortable as he could and closed his eyes.

Then, as if on cue, his thoughts started racing.

Danielle was in his bed. In his clothes. Was she curled into a little ball beneath his covers? Or was she sprawled out, taking up the entire bed?

He supposed as long as Sadie was on the floor, it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t dispel the images of Danielle in his sheets. Bare legs, maybe a creamy shoulder peeking out of his T-shirt. No bra, so her breasts would swing free with her every move
ment, the nipples hard and pouty, pressing against the material.

Oh yeah, that image would help him sleep. With a rough sigh, he flipped over and studied the ceiling. This was going to be one hell of a long night.

“Nick?” The woman of his dreams materialized at his side. “I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, then knelt by his shoulder.

As he’d already discovered, the reality of her was far more potent than any fantasy. She indeed wore his sweats, but because they were big, the waist sagged low on her hips. She’d tied the T-shirt in a knot above her belly button, so there was a gap between the shirt and pants, leaving a good four inches of bare, silky skin.

Right in front of his waiting mouth.

“I wanted to thank you again,” she whispered.

He forced his gaze up, up, up, past that bare, tantalizing belly, past the curved globes of her breasts, past her slender throat to her eyes. “Thank me?”

“Because of you, I can let my guard down, if only for tonight.”

No. Bad idea. Don’t let your guard down.

“You took me in without mentioning how foolish I am to get myself into this situation.”

“I don’t think you’re foolish.”

“Thank you for that, too,” she said very softly. “You gave me food and shelter, and—” Her voice cracked. Her eyes misty, she gave him a watery smile.

Ah, hell.

“Nick…”

He wanted to tell her not to say his name that way, that quiet, warm way that stabbed through all his protective layers. He had lots of those layers, had built them for a young, rather geeky kid, then more for his worldly travels to prevent what he saw and reported on from touching him too much. Layers so that no one person had ever had a grip on his heart.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” she said softly, in that voice that reminded him they did have a past, no matter how tenuous it was. “But I want what we should have had all those years ago. I want this night, with you. Make love to me, Nick. Please?”

D
ANIELLE WAITED
with bated breath for his answer. Ted had always hated it when she’d made the first move, but she was making it now.

Did she have it right?

Lying in bed, alone, worrying, obsessing, had done her no good. The only thing that had worked
was thinking about Nick. He’d been there for her in a way no one else ever had, and she wanted to give him something in return.

But wanting him to make love to her wasn’t all altruistic. No way, not when her breath stuttered whenever she so much as looked at him. She wanted to give him more than her gratitude, she wanted to get a taste of what she should have allowed herself all those years ago. She wanted to be held in those strong hard arms, wanted to lose herself in quick, selfish, mind-blowing passion.

And then, when it was over, when night turned to dawn, she’d get up and walk away, holding those memories tight forever.

“Please?” she whispered, tugging at the light blanket he’d thrown over himself.

Beneath it, Lord, beneath it his body was beautiful; long and muscular, showing the strength of a man who used it and often. To her regret, he wasn’t completely naked. He wore a pair of dark gray knit boxers, which snugly clung to his muscled thighs and…other interesting parts.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Danielle.”

She looked into his eyes as he touched her jaw, startled by all she saw there, so much so that she
closed her own eyes, turning her face into his light touch.

But she wanted more, so much more. He could give her that something more. He represented warmth and strength and an end to being alone, if only for tonight. So she ran her fingers along the light stubble on his hard jawline, over the mouth she wanted to feel on hers. “Nick…love me.”

“You’re confusing comfort with sex,” he said in a rough whisper. “Take it from someone who’s done the same often enough to know. I can’t let you—”

“Nick.” She watched his eyes darken at the sound of his name on her lips, and she whispered it again. And then again, when his hand drifted down her neck onto her shoulder, then glided lightly over her arm down to her fingers, which he entwined with his.

Something shivered through her at the sweet, romantic gesture, and she told herself it was desire, not something more. Not any sort of emotional connection.

“It should be more,” he said, reading her mind.

Maybe, but it couldn’t be. This and only this was within her reach. One mindless night, with him.
Feeling bold, she sat back on her heels and pulled the T-shirt over her head and off.

His breath caught. His mouth fell open, then shut with an audible snap. “Danielle,” he said hoarsely.

Never in her life had she been so shameless, but also something else. Wicked and brazen, and…free.
Free,
for the first time in too long.

Coming to her feet, she tugged on the tie of the sweats he’d given her. Then gave them a little push as she wriggled her hips, letting the material slowly slip down her thighs, leaving her only in a pair of panties.

His eyes glued to her body, he sucked in a breath and swallowed hard. “Danielle.”

“Please don’t turn me away.” She sat at his hip, her heart in her throat because she needed this, needed him, more than she needed her next breath.

He let out a groan and reached for her, tugging her down over the top of him, drawing her closer to his oh-so-warm body. His breath skimmed her temple, her hair, while his hands molded and possessed her, stoking the ache deep within her to blind, primitive need.

He seemed to be similarly affected. Scooping her hair back from her face in fistfuls, he drew her
close, staring into her eyes until their lips touched in a long, melting kiss. Then he let her hair go to trail those talented, greedy hands down her sides, stroking her breasts, holding her up so that he could look at her nipples, which were thrust near his face, begging for attention. He put his mouth on one, drawing it into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth, until she cried out, hips arching into his. Pulling back enough to blow a hot breath on the wet nipple, he slid his hands over her, down her back, and then lower, cupping two handfuls of her bottom.

Her pulse had long ago scrambled, and now so did her senses. They had all night, she thought with a bittersweet mixture of joy and misery. She could make the most of every hour, every single second. Knowing that, she pressed into him, eliciting a rough growl.

“Is this what you had in mind?” he asked a bit roughly, slipping his hands into her panties, his fingers dipping and exploring.

She let out a helpless little moan.

“Is it?”

“Yes,” she gasped, as his hands slid between her thighs to where she was already creamy, hot and very, very wet. “Yes,” she gasped again when he
hooked his thumbs in her panties, and holding her gaze prisoner in his own, slowly worked them down.

“Better.” He tossed them into the air, returning his hands to her body with a low groan. “Much better, but—”

A low whine jerked her right out of her sensual haze, as they both turned their heads. Nick let out a groaning laugh.

Sadie sat at their side, a pair of panties draped over one bloodshot eye, head cocked as she studied them closely. “Woof,” she offered, close enough to blast them with doggie breath.

Danielle’s muscles, tight and trembling under Nick’s incredible touch only seconds ago, let go, and she sagged over him. “Go to sleep, Sadie.”
Please.

Sadie sat up straighter, still panting.

“Lay down,” Danielle pleaded. “Go on now.”

More panting.

Danielle looked into Nick’s frustrated but laughing eyes. “She failed obedience.”

“I’m shocked.” Nick narrowed his eyes and studied Sadie. “Is it my imagination, or is she getting ready to bite something?”

Sadie’s big tongue swiped over her mouth in a
way that did indeed make her appear to be licking her chops in preparation of chowing down on something.

Or someone.

“Don’t worry, she hardly ever bites.”

“Oh, good.”

“We could just pretend she isn’t here,” Danielle suggested hopefully, noticing how nice Nick’s bare chest felt brushing her equally bare nipples.

Nick noticed how nice it felt, too, evidenced by the impressive bulge currently pressing insistently against her thigh.

“Just ignore her,” she tried desperately, slipping down for a kiss. He was such a good kisser, so warm and generous and…still staring at Sadie.

Who was staring right back at him.

Danielle covered Nick’s eyes and tried to deepen the kiss but it was no good. She most definitely did not have his entire attention. With a sigh, she sat up on him.

“Call me a prude,” he said. “But I’ve never actually had an audience before. It’s a bit unnerving.”

“Yeah.” Feeling very naked, she stood and reached for the panties still hanging off Sadie’s ear and the T-shirt on the floor.

Before she could put them on, Nick came to his feet and pressed up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. His forearms were tanned, tough and strewn with sinew against her fair-skinned, soft stomach, and when he slipped his hands up to cup her breasts, she nearly cried.

“Is she still watching me?” he murmured in her ear, his fingers stroking her nipples.

She wanted to melt, but managed to crane her neck toward Sadie.

Who had her gaze glued to a spot Danielle wanted to stare at as well.

Nick’s butt.

“I’m trying not to notice,” he said. His arms squeezed her close. “You feel so good against me, Danielle. So good. But—”

“No. No buts.” Her body was so keyed up, she couldn’t walk away now. Words were beyond her so she turned and showed him what she wanted with her body, sliding against him, gliding her breasts over his chest, her hips to the spot between his where he was hard and heavy.

“Foul,” he whispered, and with a movement that left her gasping in surprise, he scooped her into his arms and started down the hall.

“Hurry,” she whispered, then arched her naked body in his arms.

With a groan, he stopped in the middle of the hallway, pressing her against the wall, holding her there with his delicious body. His mouth took hers, and then, breathless, he lifted his head. “You’re sure you want this?”

“More than air.”

With a smile that tipped her heart on its side, he indulged them both in another long, lingering kiss. Finally, finally, he carried her into his bedroom and kicked the door closed behind them. Lifting his head, he asked, “Can she open doors?”

Danielle couldn’t think past the sight of the bed that she hoped he intended to ravish her on. “Who?”

“The man-eater.”

Oh Lord, the way he was eating her up with his gaze. “No, Sadie can’t open doors.”

“Good.” With his mouth teasing her jaw, he set her on the bed, his hands never leaving her body. A soft touch here, there…over her breasts, her nipples, her belly…between her thighs, urging her legs open so that he could watch while he stroked her to a slow burn with an erotic touch such as she’d never known before.

She was quivering now, with each stroke, helplessly arching into him. “Nick…”

“Yeah.” His fingers sank into her wet heat, and he let out a rough groan from deep in his throat.

“Now,” she heard herself cry, thrusting her hips against him. “Oh, please now…” She reached for him, but he evaded, gently but thoroughly capturing her hands, then pressing her back, his body covering hers. “If you touch me now, it’ll be over before it begins.”

“Then we’ll start again!”

Nick liked the sound of that, starting again. Her voice sounded thready, desperate, and her long legs wrapped around his hips so that he nearly sank into her. As he was feeling thready and desperate himself, it took every ounce of control he had to hold back.

Sliding down her body, he used his mouth everywhere he passed. Her nipples, her belly, high on her thigh, close to the one spot that would drive her over the edge, close, but not close enough.

“Nick!” Her eyes clouded over, her hands still at her sides, held by his, flexed.

“I know.” He released her to slide his hands over her thighs, opening them even farther, to lick her,
there.

With a screech, she arched up off the bed, right into his mouth. “Perfect,” he whispered, and slowly and thoroughly devoured her.

She tried to hold back from him. Clearly, this was not the hot and fast she’d intended, but he refused to give that to her. This was no quick fix, this was more. And if he had to know it, recognize it, then so did she. “Come for me,” he whispered against her.

And she did, with a wild abandon that thrilled and aroused him all the more.

Damp flesh slid over damp flesh as he slid back up her body, every bit as hostage to this vicious need as she. He rubbed his cheek to hers as she fluttered her eyes open. “There’s still more,” he said.

“Yes.” She tried to draw him inside her body. “For you.”

“For both of us.” Putting on a condom was tricky, as his hands were shaking.
Shaking.
Danielle didn’t help matters by lending her ineffective yet over whelmingly arousing fingers to the task. Finally, he lifted her hips, stared deep into her eyes and sank into her.