Chapter 10
NICK SAT IN THE MUSTANG AND WATCHED ROSALIE disappear into the terminal. Rosalie wasn’t well enough to travel, but he couldn’t tell her that. She’d been waiting to hear him say that—and one word from him was all it would take for her to end whatever it was they had. Not that she wanted to, which was why she hadn’t planned to say good-bye before she left.
If Nick could kick his own ass around a city block, he would. He’d seen the exhaustion on her face; not that anyone else would notice it. She looked every bit the hot New York executive. Her head was held high, her chin raised in defiance of the world, and her long-legged stride ate up distance and walked over anyone in her way. The crease of her pants was sharp enough to cut, and her four-inch designer heels doubled as weapons. He tried to remember if the women in Michigan wore sexy pantsuits like hers. Not that it mattered. He had a feeling wherever Rosalie went west of New Jersey, she’d stick out like a sore thumb. She might as well have had Made in New York stamped on her forehead. It wasn’t that she looked typical—she didn’t. But she had that attitude Nick found only in New Yorkers.
The woman he watched walk away was quite a switch from the makeup free, sweatshirt and flannel pant-clad Islanders fanatic with whom he’d spent the weekend fighting over the remote and eating in bed.
Nick tried not to think about the fact that he was the reason Rosalie was leaving and having dinner with some college buddy named Leisure. The only female buddies Nick had in college were bed buddies—again, not something he wanted to contemplate. Damn.
He shook his head, put the car in gear, and headed back to Brooklyn feeling way too somber. But what did he expect? He had been looking forward to a night of slow, explosive lovemaking, not a run in the park with Dave.
Nick let himself into the apartment and tossed his keys on the table. Dave sauntered out of the bedroom and eyed him warily. The poor guy must still be wondering when he was going to jail. Nick followed Dave back to the bedroom, lugging the bag he’d packed when he’d stopped to pick up his mail. Dave resumed hiding under the bed.
“Come on out, Dave, you’re going to hang with the big boys this week. Relax, I’m not taking you to jail.” Nick kicked off his shoes and made room in the dresser for his things. He wondered if his clothes would end up smelling like Rosalie. She kept sachets in her underwear drawer, and their scent permeated the room. Everything smelled like Trouble. He didn’t think it mattered what his boxers smelled like, so he neatly folded her undies and tucked his boxers in next to them. Too bad checking out her underwear didn’t hold the same appeal without her in it. At least he’d been dead-on when he guessed her size. What could he say? It was a gift.
Nick finished unpacking and thought a run might bring him out of his foul mood, so he changed into sweats and running shoes.
“Come on, Dave. Let’s go for a run. You need the exercise, if you’re going to keep sneaking lasagna.”
Dave was not a runner. Nick took it slow, but after only about a mile, Dave planted his ass and refused to move in any direction except toward home. Nick tugged on his collar, even tried cajoling him. Dave lay down and played dead until Nick bribed him with a foot-long from a street vendor to get him moving again. Dave walked all the way home with a limp. How he’d managed to make it look as if all four legs were in pain was a true Oscar-worthy performance.
Nick couldn’t wait to tell Rosalie about their quasirun. Well, all except for the part about the hot dog. She’d have a cow about Nick feeding Dave meat, so he’d leave that factoid out.
By the time they got home, Nick calculated Rosalie was checking into her hotel. Which hotel, he wasn’t sure, and not knowing wasn’t helping his mood. He’d run all the way to the apartment to check on her. He’d been worried sick, only to be smacked upside the head with proof of how little she cared. He should have at least rated a good-bye in person—not over the phone from the airport.
The words sounded familiar. He recalled his old girlfriend, Tonya, saying something similar when he’d had Lois call and cancel their date due to an unexpected trip. She’d said he’d hurt her. Damn, now he felt like a real schmuck about that. But he wasn’t hurt—he was mad.
Nick showered with his cell phone within reach. The one that didn’t ring. He ate leftover pad thai, minus every shrimp—Rosalie had been excavating again. She’d have made a great anthropologist.
The landline rang. As was his habit, Nick let the machine answer. When they heard Rosalie’s voice, he and Dave ran to the phone. Dave almost knocked him over in his excitement, though Nick suspected the near tumble could well have been a payback for the run.
“Hi, sweetie! How are you?”
Nick picked up the handset. “Hi.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah, who were you expecting?”
“Why did you pick up?”
“You called.”
“I was calling for Dave.”
“You called to talk to the dog?”
“I always do. He likes it.”
“I can see that. I thought you were calling to talk to me.”
“I never call you “sweetie.” What made you think I called for you?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because most people don’t telephone dogs.”
“Well, I do. It keeps him from walking around the apartment with my clothes.”
Nick let that one go. There were some things better left unknown.
“How are you feeling?”
Rosalie groaned. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when I missed a guy asking me ‘what are you wearing,’ but it sure beats the dreaded ‘how are you feeling’ question.”
“Okay, what are you wearing?”
“Never mind. I’m feeling fine. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you my cell number.”
“You have a cell phone?” Well, of course she did. Now he remembered hearing her purse ring right before her sister had called.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Nick wrote down the number and bit his tongue to keep from asking why she hadn’t given it to him a week ago.
“When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m dealing with yet. I’ll call you.”
“Get some rest. You sound tired.”
“I know, I know, drink fluids, take my medicine, eat well. Did I forget anything?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“What?”
“Tonight, when you’re sleepy. . .”
“Yeah?”
“And you’re lying in that big, cold hotel bed all alone. . .”
He heard her breath catch. “Uh huh. . .” came out as half word, half moan.
He took a deep breath and tried to sound normal, even bored. “Sleep well.”
“Nick!”
“’Bye, Lee, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He disconnected the call and found a morose Dave watching. The reason it was called a hangdog expression was brought into crystal clarity. Nick knew how the dog felt.
“Look on the bright side, big guy. At least you’re not in a kennel.” Try as he might, Nick failed to see the bright side of his own situation.
Dave limped into the bedroom, lumbered onto the bed, and fell into a run-induced coma. So much for dogs being good company. Nick wandered around the apartment and, after about an hour, realized what was wrong. He was lonely.
Rosalie rolled over again and looked at the clock. It was only eight-thirty, and she’d been lying down for two hours. What a complete waste of time. How was she supposed to nap after what Nick had done to her? All he had to do was talk to her in that come-to-papa voice, and she turned to unset Jell-O.
Sitting up, she ordered room service. She wasn’t hungry, but she needed to take her medicine. In her head, she heard Nick bugging her about the importance of taking medicine on a full stomach.
Oh, God, when had his voice replaced her mother’s as her inner nag?
The phone rang, and she stared at it. It had to be either Nick or Gina. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to either of them, but she knew wondering who had called would drive her crazy. She might as well answer the damn phone.
“Hello.”
“Well, ain’t that a fine how-do-you-do?”
“Gina? Why are you talking like a yokel?”
“I thought it might take some getting used to. I’m trying to help you out.
“You know, just because Michigan is west of the Hudson doesn’t mean it’s full of country bumpkins.
“Honey, as far as I’m concerned, there are three cities: New York, Chicago, and LA. If you’re not from one of the above, you’re a bumpkin.”
“Thanks for the lesson. Now, have you called for a reason?”
“Several.”
There was a knock on the door. “Hold on, I think my food’s here.”
“Okay, answer it, but look through the peephole first. They do have peepholes in Michigan, don’t they?”
“No, Gina, Home Depot only sells doors with peepholes in New York, Chicago, and LA. They don’t have mad rapists anywhere else.”
“Funny, very funny.”
She answered the door and let the kid set the room service tray on the table. After tipping him, she followed him to the door and locked up tight.
“I’m back.”
“What’d you order? Something expensive, I hope. Lord knows, they owe you for making you fly all the way out there to clean up this mess. Oh, and it is a mess.”
“I gathered. I ordered a steak. I couldn’t remember if Michigan was famous for steak or if that was Kansas. Geography was never my strong suit.”
“Don’t ask me. If it isn’t in one of the six boroughs, I don’t know much about it. Sure, I’d like to go to Hawaii, the Bahamas, maybe Guadalupe, but aside from that, the only place I want to be is New York.”
“Gina, there are only five boroughs—”
“You forgot Florida. You’ve heard of the South Bronx; Florida is the South Manhattan. Don’t you know anything?”
Rosalie cut into the perfect steak—so rare, you could save it with sutures—and took a bite, nearly groaning in ecstasy. She’d never known how good it could feel to be able to taste food again. A trickle of blood dripped onto her chin, and she laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing. You know how I like my steak rare—”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, Nick would be calling me Vampira right about now. He says I’m the only person alive that likes steak more rare than he does. One night he was cooking and, well, we got distracted. We forgot about the steak until it was well-done.”
“Eeww.”
“I know. As far as I’m concerned, the term “welldone” is an oxymoron. Nick ended up boiling some pasta and making this amazing clam sauce. Dave ate the steak. Thank God, Dave wasn’t picky.”
“Listen to you. You miss him.”
“I do not. I miss Dave, not Nick. Though it does feel strange being alone. Nick barely left me all week, and when he did, he seemed to have this innate ability to come back just as I was waking up. Hell, every time I awakened, he was there with liquids, food, or drugs— sometimes all three. It was amazing, really. He only got on my nerves when he shoved medicine down my throat. But then, that had more to do with the medication than with him.”
“Oh, yeah, I can see you don’t miss him at all.”
“He’s nice . . . and a really good sport. He didn’t even mind when I called him Nurse Ratched. He gave me one of his don’t-mess-with-me looks, but he wasn’t very convincing.”
“Sounds like a real prince.”
“I admit, he’s special. He’d have to be to like Dave— either that or crazy. It was cute, the way he got so perturbed over the thought of Dave in a kennel. As if I would put my baby anywhere but the Ritz Carlton of kennels. I doubt they offer daily massages in Sing Sing.”
“I thought you were going to call him from the airport so he wouldn’t give you a hard time about traveling.”
“Yeah, that was the plan, but I called to cancel the doctor’s appointment—”
“Oh, you had another appointment with that Barbie clone?”
“No. Nick made me see his friend, Mike. He’s a pulmonologist.”
“A what?”
“A lung doctor. And Mike called Nick, and Nick came running over like—”
“Like he cares about you?”
“No, he was more concerned about Dave going to a kennel than he was about me flying to Michigan.”
“Somebody sounds jealous,” she said in the singsong tone third graders use.
“Gina, is there something you need to tell me, or did you call to get on my nerves?”
“I emailed you the report I put together from the trash I got from Randi with an ‘I,’ Lassiter’s assistant. After one look, you’ll see why the Board of Directors hired us. Talk about a sloppy job. Giving you a hard time is just a bonus.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Hey, Dorothy, just because he cares about Toto doesn’t mean he’s not concerned about you. He did run all the way to your place to see you.”
“And he did drive me to the airport—”
“What about the limo I sent?”
“I canceled it.”
“Rosalie, you sound tired. Why don’t you look at what we’re up against and then go to bed? You’re going to need all your strength tomorrow. All I can say is, it’s a good thing you’re there and Lassiter’s here. Once you see what he did, you’re going to want to murder him, and I’d sure hate to have Sam arrest you.”
She groaned. “Okay, thanks, and email me those other numbers as soon as you get them.”
“I will. Sleep well.”
“Ha. Night, Gina.”
She looked over the report and cringed. Damn that Lassiter. Gina was right. It was a good thing she wasn’t in the office. The work she and Gina had done over the phone that afternoon had her feeling marginally better, but Gina was right, Rosalie would need all her strength to turn this company around. Too bad she couldn’t bounce ideas around with Nick. Nick would probably take one look at the financials and know what needed to be done, instead of doing what she’d be doing—spending the next few weeks getting up to speed.
She ordered a wake-up call, did a breathing treatment, and crawled into bed. Nestled into the incredible pillows, she made a mental note to hit the hotel’s website and buy a couple.
Rosalie was falling out of bed. Yes, she knew she was too old for that, but for some reason, she must have been sleeping on top of the pillows. She felt herself falling and grabbed onto what she thought was the mattress, but it wasn’t. The pillows did cushion her fall, but she doubted whoever was below her thought so.
Rosalie lay sprawled on the floor at six-thirty in the morning, with a rug burn on her knee. Gathering the pillows, she climbed back in bed. The rug burn hurt like hell and looked even worse. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table, scrolled down to Nick’s number, and hit “Send.” Nick answered on the second ring.
“Lee?”
“Hi.”
“Did you just wake up?”
“Yeah.”
“And the first thing you did was call me?”
It was a question, but it sounded more like a statement of fact. “No, it’s not the first thing I did.” She didn’t think she had to tell him the first thing she’d done was pick herself up off the floor.
“Sure, if you say so. You sound sleepy and sexy as hell . . . the way you always do for the first ten minutes, before your brain starts screaming for caffeine. Did you call room service yet?”
Damn, she knew she’d forgotten something. “Of course. Um . . . how’s Dave?”
“He’s fine. He seems to be feeling better.”
“Why, what was wrong?”
“We went for a run yesterday. You should have seen him. After a mile, he lay down and refused to go any farther. It took me almost an hour to get him to walk home, and then he looked as if he were limping on all fours. I’ve never seen anything like it. After we talked to you, he was out for the rest of the night.”
“Outside?”
“No. Out, as in asleep on the bed. He takes over the entire bed, like someone else I know. But at least you don’t snore.”
“It’s nice to know I’m a better sleeping companion than Dave. You’d better watch it. All these compliments are going right to my head.”
She heard a siren and then Dave groaning.
“Dave, cut it out, I’m driving here.”
“You’re driving with Dave?”
“Yeah, we’re going to work.”
“It’s against the law to talk on a cell phone and drive. Pull over.”
“You know, Dave, when your mom calls, all she does is order me around. I don’t think she’s had her coffee yet. I’m pulling over. Happy now?”
“Are you talking to me or to Dave?”
“You.”
“I’m thrilled. Let me get this straight—you’re taking Dave to work with you? What are you, nuts? Dave isn’t a Pekingese. He’s not portable.”
“Sure he is. He likes the car, but he refused to sit in the back seat, so I buckled him in.”
“You put a seat belt on Dave?”
“Only the shoulder strap. I thought it would keep him from going too far forward. He should be safe enough, since the car has airbags . . .”
“You actually thought of his safety? That’s so sweet.”
“Lee, give me a break. Sweet is almost as bad as cute. We got six inches of snow last night, and the kids have a snow day. My secretary is bringing her son, Tyler, with her to work. I thought Dave would like to hang with us.”
“You’re going to let a kid and a dog follow you around?”
“Sure. Tyler’s great. We shoot hoops and do guy stuff together.”
“Ooh, the mysterious guy stuff.”
“Yes, very mysterious. Even Lois doesn’t know what we do. Ty took the blood oath right after I taught him how to pee standing up.”
“What do you mean? I thought the big deal with guys was writing your name in the snow . . .”
“Sweetheart, he didn’t know how to spell. He was only two. He’s a bright kid, but not that bright. Look, I’ve got to run, or I’ll be late, and I’m already on Lois’s shit list.”
“Oh, right. Um, give Dave a kiss for me.”
“Not likely.”
“Make sure he doesn’t drink antifreeze or anything.”
“I’ll keep him in my office.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“Forget about it.”
Not likely.
Rosalie disconnected the call on a sigh. Damn the man. There’s nothing more attractive than a man who loves dogs or kids. Of course, Nick would do both.
Again Rosalie hung up before Nick could say goodbye. Damn. He didn’t want her thanks. He only wanted her to come home.
Dave gave him a disappointed look.
“I miss her too, big guy, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to kiss you. Maybe later, after Lois leaves, we can call your mom on the speakerphone. How does that sound?”
Nick wondered if he was losing it. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was talking to a one-hundred-fifty-pound mutt, he could have sworn Dave raised a brow as if to say, “You really expect me to answer? What do you think this is, an episode of Lassie?”
Only Rosalie would have a sarcastic dog.
Nick and Dave spent the next week and a half working long hours. Lois set up a dog bed for Dave beside Nick’s desk, and when he had meetings, Nick used the conference room instead of his office. Ty came by every day after school and took Dave to the park for twenty bucks for the week. Dave loved Ty, and Ty needed more responsibility and something to occupy his time after school. Ty was about the same age Nick had been when he’d started down the road to Juvie. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let Ty make the same mistake.
Nick leaned back in his chair and yawned. Christ, he’d thought he’d sleep better without Rosalie around to tie him in knots. It wasn’t the case; if anything, his sleep problems were worse. He’d hardly slept at all since she left, and when he did manage to fall asleep, he’d wake up with his arm around Dave. Which was embarrassing as hell, even for Dave.
“What?” Nick’s eyes shot open, and he found Lois leaning over his chair. “Christ, Lois, what are you trying to do? Give me a freakin’ heart attack?”
“If you weren’t sleeping on the job, you’d have heard your phone ringing. Maybe you need to set the ring tone louder . . . or get some sleep. You look like hell.”
“What time is it?”
“Time for you to get out of the office. You’re no good to me like this, Nick. I’ve run out of patience. Go home. Don’t come back until you get a minimum of eight hours of sleep.”
“But Ty is coming. . .”
“That’s okay. I’m taking the afternoon off. I’ll take him to the park. Dave can have the day off, too. Now both of you, get out of here.”
Nick was too tired to argue, and she was right about him being no good to anyone at work. He hooked Dave’s leash to his collar and headed home.
Rosalie opened the door to the apartment, stuck her head in, and waited for Dave to do his sorry impression of the Snoopy Happy Dance. But there was no Dave.
She wanted to cry. She was tired and cranky, and she wanted to see Dave and Nick. She couldn’t believe she’d come all this way at this ungodly hour, and Nick wasn’t even here.
Her eyes stung, not from tears, but because they’d been open for eighteen hours straight.
It wasn’t that she missed Nick. How could she? He’d taken up residence in her brain. The only good thing about Nick filling her thoughts was that she no longer heard her mother.
Rosalie should have listened when Gina told her to fly back in the morning. But no, she’d wanted to go home. She’d wanted to sleep in her own bed and see her own dog. And yes, she’d wanted to surprise Nick. To think she’d done all that, and he wasn’t even here!
As she lugged in her bags, Dave trudged out of the bedroom. For the first time all week, she felt like celebrating. He did full-body stretches on his way to greet her. It was a far cry from a Snoopy Happy Dance, but she’d take what she could get. He waited for his kiss and butted his head into her. She wasn’t sure if it was a sign of affection, but that’s how she chose to take it. Tossing her coat on the couch, she kicked her shoes off and followed Dave to the bedroom.
Dave crawled onto the bed and resumed sleeping with his big head resting on Nick’s chest. Nick reached out, laying his arm over Dave’s neck. Talk about a Kodak moment. Not to mention perfect blackmail material. Rosalie had a feeling Nick would do anything to keep Mike and Vinny from knowing he and Dave slept together. It was a shame she was too tired to find her camera.
She gave Dave’s rump a pat and pulled him off the bed, careful to keep him from stepping on Nick.
Nick didn’t even stir. Amazing. She stripped out of her clothes, slipped on a sleep shirt, and slid beneath the covers. God, it was good to be home.
Rosalie had read somewhere that a person could get addicted to their lover’s scent. Even after years apart, if they smelled that person, they would have an intense physical reaction. She’d thought it was a bunch of romantic bunk before now. Of course, she was never one to awaken on top of her lover, with her head pillowed on the soft spot below his collarbone and her nose pressed against his chest. God, he smelled good.
“I can hear you thinking.”
“You cannot. I think silently.” She didn’t move. She listened to the drum of his heart and the rumble of his voice and basked in the warmth of his arms surrounding her.
“Yeah, but it sets off an electric current I can hear. Welcome home.”
“Thanks. Your hands are on my ass.”
“I know.” He gave her butt a squeeze. “It seems to be a bone of contention with you.”
“There’s nothing bony about it. It’s big.”
He increased the pressure, kneading the tension out of her glutes and hamstrings. “You’ve got the perfect ass. An ass a man wants to grab and hold onto for a long time. I’ve dreamed about your ass.”
“Oh, yeah.” She meant it to sound sarcastic but missed the bar. Even to her ears, it sounded like an invitation to proceed, which worked, too. She wanted to moan; it felt so good. Who’d have thought your butt could be a direct route to the state of arousal?
“Why didn’t you call? I’d have picked you up.”
Rosalie smiled against his neck. “I wanted to surprise you.” His pulse thrummed with increasing speed beneath her lips, keeping time with hers. She licked a path to his ear and whispered, “But you didn’t wake up.” Rosalie nipped his earlobe and then pulled it into her mouth to soothe it as she slid her leg the rest of the way over to straddle him.
“Oh, baby, I’m up, and I’m lovin’ my surprise.”
When he said he was up, he wasn’t kidding. His erection pressed against the fabric of her boy shorts, and the pressure sent her blood from heated to boiling. Her belly grew warm and heavy. She was melting from the inside out.
Rosalie pushed herself up to look into his eyes and fell into the swirling vortex she saw there. Hot and possessive need, raw and raging, spinning with a spark of something she couldn’t name. So intense, it scared her as much as it excited her.
Panic skittered through her. She had the urge to run, but as if he’d read her mind, Nick tightened his hold.
Her breath came out in a whoosh. She wasn’t sure if it was because he’d flipped them over none too gently, or because she feared being branded. His body was hard on hers, pushing her into the mattress. His kiss was a staggering embodiment of heat, lust, impatience, and latent anger. Whether the anger was aimed at himself or at her, she was unsure.
His stubble-covered face scraped her skin, his tongue swept into her mouth, and his power surrounded her. Like a swimmer in a riptide, she sank deeper. Resistance was futile and unthinkable.
Rosalie’s brain was on sensation overload. There was no time to think, only to respond. His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her face, and on her breasts. His rough skin abraded her sensitive nipples before his mouth soothed, laved, and then bit, sending shooting currents of heat skittering. Fires ignited in all the expected places and a few new ones.
He pulled the sleep shirt over her head and slid himself down her body. She spread her legs to accommodate him, but instead of stopping, he continued lower. His fingers slid under the waistband of her boy shorts, and before she knew his intention, he’d ripped them off.
Who would have thought the sound of ripping fabric would be such a turn-on? Her toes curled, her breathing rasped, and her heart pounded so hard, it was as if she’d overdosed on adrenaline. She wondered if her heart would burst.
“Nick, please. . .”
His fingers ran around her navel in concentric circles that got larger with every pass. Her hips had a mind of their own, rising to meet his hand. Her legs spread, and her heels dug into the mattress. She’d never felt so needy. When he put his mouth on her, she jerked in his grasp. Her hands held his hair, bringing him closer. His tongue, his mouth, his teeth, the rasp of his beard against her thighs, and the vibration of his groan sent her flying. When his fingers joined his mouth, she soared, screamed, and pulled the sheets from the bed, all the while fighting for breath as his mouth and fingers continued drawing it out, taking her higher and higher, until she imploded.
Rosalie was vaguely aware of Nick holding her close, kissing her, and murmuring something as her mind reconfigured after the devastating orgasm. He was smiling down at her and brushing the hair from her forehead.
She wrapped leaden arms around his neck and kissed him.
Gone was the rage, replaced by quiet tenderness, soft slow strokes of his hands, and the feel of his full-body kiss. She explored the muscles of his back, his arms, his sides, and his hips.
Her hips rose, and his erection slid into her. Hard, big, smooth.
“Lee, stop.” Nick groaned and rolled off her. His chest heaved like a bellows.
“What? What’s the matter?”
“Condoms.”
“Damn, I forgot.”
“Yeah, for a second, I did, too.” He reached across the bed, pulled open the bedside table drawer, and tossed some on the bed beside her. She sat, ripped one open with her teeth, and reached for him, but he grabbed her hands.
“No funny stuff. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
“I’ll be good. I swear.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
She kissed him as she rolled the condom down. The kiss spun out as he pressed her down and covered her with his body.
Nick rose over Rosalie. She saw emotion swirl in his storm cloud-colored eyes, and for an instant, she knew with absolute certainty they were in the same place. They were suspended somewhere between like and love. A place she’d never been before. A place she didn’t want to be. She told herself it was only a dream. But as he settled between her legs, grabbed her hips, and slid into her, slow and long, she knew that was a lie. No dream could ever feel that real, that good, or that scary.
Nothing she’d ever experienced had prepared her for Nick. His eyes locked on hers. He thrust up and back, moving at a slow, easy pace, maddeningly controlled. His pupils darkened, and his breathing turned into gasps, his muscles bunched, and his jaw clenched.
Rosalie wrapped her legs around his waist and arched her back, and his control snapped. He plunged and bucked, and she met him thrust for thrust. Her orgasm built. She didn’t want this to end. He moved to the side, changing the angle, and kissed her as she came apart, swallowing her cries.
Nick never slowed his pace as her whole body spasmed. He rode out her climax and brought her up again. He moved so perceptively, he seemed to know her body better than she did.
His face shined with sweat, his back was slick, and his muscles quivered. Watching him drew her closer to the edge. As a shower of mini-explosions shot through her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth as he sunk his body into hers. He came with a roar. He stiffened, shuddered and then exploded. He collapsed, his face pressed against her neck, but his body still tensed and thrust twice more before he relaxed.
He was heavy, but a good heavy. She kissed his neck and felt him twitch inside her. He slid off, rolled over, and threw his arm across his eyes. Rosalie snuggled against him and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
Nick had finally made love to Rosalie. He’d thought about it so many times, had planned how he’d take it slow, savor it, and not get her too worked up. He knew she wasn’t one hundred percent better, and there’d be plenty of time later for extreme sex. He’d wanted this first time to last for hours. What a joke. He’d been lucky if it had lasted ten minutes, and that estimate was generous. He hadn’t felt like this . . . well, ever. He was legendary for his control, but that control disappeared whenever Rosalie was within touching distance. One look from Rosalie, and he was fighting to restrain himself. Even trying to distract himself by naming the players from the Islanders last Stanley Cup win in ’83 was a bust. All he could recall was Ronald Melanson, the goalie.
Making love to Rosalie had nearly done him in. Nothing had ever felt more right, and at the same time, more wrong. Until that moment, he’d never considered keeping things from her a lie. He knew now he’d blown it. Like a line of dominoes, each one pushing the next over, the consequences of his actions tumbled before him, and he was helpless to stop them. He should have come clean about who he was, and what he was, and what he wanted. A woman had a right to know her lover’s name, rap sheet, and occupation. But he was already inside her, and God help him, somehow, she had gotten inside him. It was too late to say, “Lee, sweetheart, I have something to tell you. . .”