One in a Million (29 page)

Nash sat at the big U-shaped table and listened to
all the conversations flowing around him. In a crowd
like this, his instinct was to withdraw—to observe
rather than participate. But since his early-morning
jog with his stepfather, he'd realized he'd better stop
assuming anything about himself or his life. Appar
ently nothing was as he'd thought it had been.

All those years wasted, he thought sadly. Howard
had been there for him and he'd never noticed. What
else had he missed in his life?
The sound of laughter interrupted his thoughts.
He looked across the table and saw Stephanie and
Elizabeth laughing together. Petite, with short blond
hair and a mouth designed specifically to drive him
mad, Stephanie was a walking, breathing fantasy. He liked how she fit in with his family. In less than
twenty-four hours she and his mother had become
fast friends. She managed to keep his brothers, their spouses and kids straight.

He wanted her. That was hardly news, but the
feeling this morning was different. He wanted more
than sex. He wanted –
Nothing he was going to get, he reminded himself
and looked away. He glanced around the table and
saw Brett watching him. He smiled at the boy, who started to smile back, then instead turned away. Iron
ically, Nash knew exactly what the kid was thinking.
He still saw Nash as a threat.

He thought about trying to reassure Brett again,
but figured there wasn't any point. He, Nash, hadn't
listened to Howard all those years ago. Why would Brett listen to him? Still he wished he had the right
words. Life would be easier for Brett if he under
stood, just as life would have been a whole lot easier
for Nash if he'd known that Howard wasn't a problem. All those wasted years when they could have
been close.

He hated the regrets. The "could have beens."
And he didn't just have them with Howard. What
about his regrets with Tina? Their marriage had
never been picture-perfect. Maybe if he'd worked
harder to make it better. Maybe then he wouldn't
feel so damn guilty all the time. Maybe His brain cleared. It was as if he'd been looking
through a fog for the last two years, since the day
of his wife's death.

Haltingly, almost afraid of what he would see, he
looked at his brothers and their wives and fiancées.
He looked at their faces, their eyes, and the way they
were always touching. Husbands and wives in love
with each other.

Love. That's what had been wrong with his mar
riage. He'd gone through the motions, but that's all it had been. He should never have married Tina be
cause he'd never loved her. And it had taken him
the better part of two years to figure that out.

Chapter Thirteen

Stephanie watched the clock impatiently. It was
II:27. She and Nash had agreed she would head
downstairs at II:30. After some debate they'd de
cided it would be easier for her to explain her presence going up to her own floor than for him to say
why he was heading down from hers.

In theory there was no reason to sneak. While it
was best her children didn't know that she and Nash
had become intimate, would it really matter to his
parents? Not that she was going to suggest they spill
the beans. In a way, having to wait heightened anticipation. She was already trembling slightly at the thought of seeing him and there was a definite heavi
ness low in her belly. One would think they had
made love enough times for some of the thrill to be fading, but one would be wrong.

Two more minutes passed. At exactly 11:30, she
picked up her shoes, a travel alarm set for four in
the morning and tiptoed out of her room. She made
it down the hall to the stairs without making a sound then headed to the floor below.

At the third stair from the bottom, she stepped as
close to the wall as possible to avoid the creaky step, then reached the second level and headed for Nash's room.

The door was already open. She stepped inside,
prepared to remind him that she had to make it back
to her own bed before anyone was stirring, but she
wasn't given the opportunity to speak.

He'd been standing in the center of the room, just
out of the pool of light given off by the bedside
lamp. As she entered, he crossed to her and pulled
her close. As his arms wrapped around her body, his mouth settled on hers. The deep, sensual, demanding kiss turned her bones to liquid.

She melted against him. Wanting flooded her,
barely giving her enough time to drop her shoes and
set the clock on the dresser. The door closed with a soft thud, then Nash's hands were everywhere—her
back, her hips, her waist, her breasts.

They'd been together enough times that he knew
what she liked, what she loved and what made her
scream with delight, and he used that knowledge to
reduce her to a quivering shell of need. His long
fingers gently massaged the curves of her breasts, moving closer to her already tight nipples without
actually touching them. Anticipation built inside her.

She squirmed closer, silently begging him to
touch her there, but he was slow to respond. Closer
and closer still until his thumbs lightly brushed over
the tips of her nipples. One brief caress, then he
was gone.

She groaned her frustration. Determined to tease
him as much as he teased her, she withdrew from
the kiss and began to suck on his lower lip. At the
same time, she cupped his rear, digging her fingers
into the firm flesh and bringing his arousal more
closely in contact with her stomach. They both
caught their breath.

“
I want you," Nash breathed. "Naked."
His words increased her need, delighting her.
In
a smooth dance they'd performed before, they broke
apart and quickly tugged at their clothes. She fin
ished first and slid onto the cool sheet. Nash fol
lowed.

They lay facing each other, his leg between hers,
his thigh pressing against her swollen dampness. As
they kissed, he cupped her left breast. Their tongues
stroked and played. When he retreated, she fol
lowed. His taste, his heat, his hardness all inflamed
her. She could not be naked enough with this man.
She wanted to be vulnerable, hungry and bare to
him. Yes, she wanted the pleasure to follow, but for
now it was enough to want him.

When he urged her onto her back, she went easily. He broke the kiss and knelt between her thighs. His mouth settled on her chest. As his tongue swept over and around the tight nipple, his fingers matched the action on her other breast. Her muscles tightened as
pleasure poured through her, trickling down to in
crease her growing ache. She felt herself swelling,
readying. Already she wanted him inside her, but
that was for later. First Nash would want to make
her beg.

He kept his attention on her breasts until she was
close to breaking. Tension filled her body, making
every muscle stiffen. When she nearly vibrated with
need, he moved lower, placing openmouthed kisses
on her belly, then lower still.

He reached for her hands and brought them to her
center, where he had her part herself for him. She
drew her knees back and dug her heels into the mat
tress. Her eyes were closed, but she knew he was close—she could feel his warm breath fanning her
dampness. She was ready, so ready. Ready and ach
ing. Her hips pulsed in silent invitation. And still he waited.

At last he moved close and pressed his tongue
against her. Fire shot through her, making her jump
and gasp. The single, slow lick was followed by
another and another. Gentle, easy strokes that drove
her to the edge of madness. He didn't go fast enough
to take her to climax, but he didn't let the tension
fall off, either.

She strained to get more pressure, she rocked her
hips to get him to go faster. Neither worked. She
tried begging.

“
Nash, please."
She felt the rumble of his laughter. In response to
her plea, he inserted a finger inside her then curled
it slightly, so it seemed to stroke her from the inside
as his tongue did the same from the outside. He
moved them in tandem. Slowly. Gently. Thor
oughly. Bottom to top. Top to bottom. Over and
over. Like the ticking of a clock. Ever so steady.
Ever so slow.

Her entire body clenched. She couldn't breathe,
couldn't think, couldn't do anything but focus on
that incessant rhythm. Over and over. Tension grew
and grew until she thought it would split her in two. More. She needed more. She needed He stopped completely. For the space of three heartbeats he hovered above her, not touching, not moving. Nothing. The wait was unbearable. Then he
kissed her again, but more firmly this time, and fas
ter.

She climaxed without warning. The release swept through her at the speed of sound, flinging her into
paradise and making her cry out. Muscles con
tracted, her entire body spasmed in perfect pleasure.
She was out of control and she never wanted that to change.

He continued to touch her, gentling the contact,
until she had nothing left.

She opened her eyes and saw him smiling at her.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak.

“
That was more amazing than usual," she told
him. "Which is saying something."

“You're easy to please."

“I'm glad you think so."
She lowered her gaze and saw that he was still
hard. Her stomach clenched.

“I want you inside me," she said.

Words to live by, Nash thought as he reached for
the condom he'd left on the nightstand. As he
slipped it on, he studied the flush on Stephanie's
chest and cheeks. The physical proof of her orgasm
pleased him. He wanted her to enjoy their time
in
bed.

When he'd put on the protection, he slowly
pushed into her. She was hot and wet. As he filled
her, her muscles contracted around his erection, testing his control. He forced himself to hold back. He wanted her to come again.

Still kneeling, he shifted his weight off his arms
so he could reach out to touch her breasts. They
were always exquisitely sensitive after her first re
lease. Just lightly brushing her nipples was usually
enough to get her going again. He wanted to feel
her rippling contractions and watch her face as she experienced wave after wave of orgasm. Her mouth
would part slightly, her eyes would widen as she
tried to keep looking at him. Sometimes he would
swear he could see down to her soul.

Sure enough, with the first touch of his fingers,
she gasped. He felt the tight clenching of her body. He thrust into her again and contractions massaged
him. Blood surged into his arousal, pressure built in
his groin, and still he held back.

Their gazes locked. With each rhythmic release,
she sucked in a breath and whispered his name. Over
and over, as if in prayer. He was getting closer, too,
but he wanted this to go on as long as they both
could stand it.

In and out, in and out. He got harder and harder.
Deep inside everything collected for the surging re
lease that was as inevitable as the tide. She contin
ued to climax, massaging him, drawing him in
deeper. Her breathing increased. He surged in faster
and faster. They were both gasping.