Been There Done That

by Smartypants Romance

  “Zora.”

  “Thanks for the drink, Nick. Let’s pick this up another time.”

  He was quick, somehow cutting across a significant distance to capture my hand as I started toward the door.

  “Zora.” He resumed his seat, gaze steady on mine as he retained his leading grip on my hand. My heart hammered in my ears. I gripped the glass of whiskey, fighting to not become unmoored, to not surrender to the insane pull. Seated, Nick’s head was flush with my chest as I stood within the widespread V of his legs. My lungs filled with the scent of clean male skin and expensive musk. Nick said nothing, his green eyes dark.

  I stared down at him, suffused with contradictory impulses. I hurt from all I’d learned the previous week during his disclosure. But all I’d once felt for this man was still there. He still had a claim on my heart. I recognized the challenge in those vivid green eyes, saw the same strong-willed, headstrong boy I’d fallen in love with. The boy who’d wanted my dreams for me as much as I’d wanted them for myself.

  His grip tightened on my hand.

  “What’s this charade you’re playing with Jackson James?”

  “Is that what this is about? Your opinion—”

  “Don’t play games with me, Zora.” His jaw tightened. “If I thought, even for a minute, that you were actually with that asshat, I’d have already taken his head off.”

  “He’s not an asshat. I love him and you need to respect who he is to me, and the role he has in my life.”

  His eyes never left mine. “You love him. But you don’t love him like you love me.”

  My mouth opened, closed. I was mute, trapped in that unholy green gaze.

  “You’re always a polite distance from each other. He doesn’t touch you like a lover. You don’t look at him like he knows your secrets. He somehow takes his eyes off you in that dress. Jackson James doesn’t know you, doesn’t love you like I do. He didn’t then, and he doesn’t now.”

  I was hypnotized by the low pitch of his voice, the dark intensity in his eyes. His thumb traced the same circuitous arc along the sensitive crease of my thumb. The unbearably light touch shot streamers of sensation up my arm, agitating my nerves.

  The air grew dense, heavy.

  “You’re not with him.” Below the strong column of his neck, his pulse beat an erratic rhythm. “You never once asked for him or thought of him when I was with you. You wouldn’t have let me in your bed if you were with Jackson James.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “I’m not the same girl I was, Nick. I traded my love of fairy tales for pragmatism.”

  “That’s not who you are.”

  “What, it’s who you are? You’ve spent the last twelve years waiting for True Love’s Kiss?”

  I startled as Nick’s hand closed over mine, secured my grip on the snifter. Slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes hot on mine, he brought the glass to his mouth and took a healthy swallow. My fingers glanced against the silken skin of his lower lip and were abraded by the coarse stubble below.

  My nipples tightened against the silk of my bra.

  Trapped in the glowing heat of those green eyes, I barely registered when he gently disengaged the glass from our grip and set it on the floor beside him.

  “I don’t care about anyone else right now. This is about you and me.”

  “There . . . there can’t be a me and you.”

  I fought the inclination to pant, feeling my chest rise and fall faster than was merited for standing still.

  Steady, Zora. Steady.

  Warm weight settled on either side of my hips as his hands claimed my waist. His long fingers splayed wide in all directions, exerting delicious pressure.

  “Z. There’s never been a time when there wasn’t a you and me.”

  Before I could sternly interrogate myself and my motives, I’d instinctively stepped closer between his spread thighs. My back arched as I steadied myself with my hands on the width of his shoulders.

  Nick’s gaze fell to my cleavage, now only inches away from his face. From his mouth.

  Not so in control now, I mused, exulting in the feel of his shoulders rising and falling with increased respiration. Maybe you don’t have all the power now.

  His voice, when he spoke again, wasn’t all the way steady. Some measure of his cocksure attitude fled.

  “It will never be over. Not when I still remember how you bite your lip when you’re worried and how you hide when you’re around too many people. I know you always saved your tears for me because you didn’t trust your feelings with anyone else. I remember being the first man to touch you, to discover what you wanted, what you like. I haven’t forgotten what kind of touch makes you wild.”

  “I’ve changed.”

  “I still remember how you taste.”

  The breath in my lungs stalled.

  Jesus. What did he just say?

  He bit his lip, his gaze on my mouth.

  We were both breathing like spent runners, worn down and winded at the end of a marathon.

  On the other side of the partition, the band transitioned to a new song. The lead singer grooved her way into Smokey Robinson & The Miracles’ “You Really Got a Hold on Me.”

  I gathered the courage to ask what I’d been wanting to ask since he appeared in my doorway weeks ago. “What do you want from me, Nick?”

  His grip at my hips tightened, drawing me even closer to the solid wall of his chest. “Baby, I just want you to take what you want.”

  Looking into his eyes, surrounded by those tensed, powerful limbs, feeling his proprietary grip, I remembered.

  I remembered another Nick. Seventeen-year-old Nick. Seated. Not as powerfully built but impressive in size even then, his hold at my waist tentative as he searched my face in the darkness of his bedroom. “Whatever you want,” he’d said, with a hushed reverence that had only solidified my decision that yes, this was what I wanted, and who I’d wanted it with. “I only want whatever you want. You decide. You’re in charge.”

  To this day, despite having been just eighteen the last time we were together, he still held the record as the best partner I’d ever had. He was the only man to apply himself so thoroughly to knowing me, and what I wanted. It’d been sublime, partnering with him. Long before we’d stumbled onto his mattress and made the mutual decision to go all the way, to consummate our commitment to each other, we’d been each other’s compass and roadmap.

  He’d been my sanctuary.

  And now, looking down into his dear face, somehow both the same and weathered with time, I contemplated if I could take another risk on the boy that I’d once loved with complete, selfless abandon.

  I could no longer map the contents of his heart, or anticipate the contents of his soul. But there was no denying the echo of that same boy in the man before me, who gripped me as if his own life depended on my decision.

  He was a man who would sit with me, holding my hand and offering comfort, in the same hospital where his mother overdosed.

  Even if it pained him.

  “I only want what you want,” echoed in my head, merging with his challenge to take what I wanted.

  I looked into those evergreen eyes, not breathing, balancing on the edge of a precipice, of a decision that would alter both of us once again.

  And I fell.

  Our mouths collided.

  Finally.

  My hands sought the warmth of Nick’s scalp. Thick, silken layers of hair ran through the sieve of my fingers. His hands coasted to my back, arms banding behind me until there was no room between us.

  I moaned as his fingers anchored in my hair, craning my neck and holding it in place. I shivered, helpless against the twin sensations of wet heat and prickled stubble dragging along the sensitive skin of my neck. I whimpered, desperate for more.

  “Come here,” he murmured against my skin. Drunk with pleasure, I couldn’t muster the words to ask what he meant, how we could possibly get any closer.

  He removed all confu
sion, fisting my tight-fitting gown with his free hand and easing it upward by slow degrees.

  And I actually helped him, leaning against him to take the weight off my foot, as if there wasn’t only a wall separating us from hundreds of people.

  I reached back with one hand, working to peel the close-fitting dress upward.

  Nick gave a huff, then briefly relinquished his hold on my neck to tug at the dress with both hands, tugging and pulling with all the delicacy of a corn husker.

  Cold air bathed my nude legs as the dress cleared my waist. He grunted, boosting my legs and guiding them until they clasped around his lean waist.

  “That’s better.” He breathed, hands still busy, fingers awakening nerves all along my arms and thighs.

  “Yes.” I moaned it, yanking until I successfully slid the black tie free from around his neck.

  “What do you want, Zora?” His tongue traced a trail down my chest to the tops of my breasts.

  Was that me, moaning that loudly? Lower, my body clenched on its own emptiness while my thighs slid along the unbearably soft fabric of his trousers. Some wild instinct seized and my hips canted forward to meet his hardness, easily taking up a lurid rhythm, tightly circling on his lap.

  He swore.

  “Give me your mouth,” I said, shameless in my grinding now.

  He obeyed, capturing my face between his hands as I tasted his lips, then chased the whiskey flavor of his tongue. I readjusted my grip on his shoulders while my lower body sought greater friction against his solid heat.

  “Shit, Zora.” His breath was shallow and strangled, as if he too suddenly found air in short supply. “I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

  “You wanted me to take what I want.” I gave a perverse laugh. “What, you scared?”

  He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. His mouth turned up in the cocky grin I recognized from our schoolyard days, and my heart turned over.

  “I’m just making sure you’re ready, baby.”

  “Stop calling me baby.” I huffed, then gasped when cold air met my left breast, closely followed by the strong, warm suction of his mouth.

  “Oh, God.”

  “You were saying?”

  I gripped the back of his head, desperate for the clever exploration of his tongue again, and he gave a low laugh.

  “I’m okay with it now. I’ll be baby if you keep doing that with your tongue.”

  He rewarded me with a swirl that launched me into spasms of delight.

  His hand slid between our bodies, past my moans, fingers seeking.

  “Zora?”

  “Huh?” I was so hot, so out of my mind with lust, I might have answered to any name.

  “What the hell is this? Why can’t I get to you?”

  “Spanx.” I laughed, and he joined in, his rising chest jostling me.

  “Why’d you have to go and do that?”

  “I didn’t see this in the forecast,” I said, deciding to test out my own free access to all the rigid pleasure I’d been riding over his pants.

  Our arms jockeyed for position as we frantically worked at each other. Nick caught my breast in his mouth again and I shuddered, momentarily stymied in my attempt to discover just how far his length extended outside the constraints of his trousers.

  “I can’t wait,” I admitted, feeling my hips take on a life of their own.

  “Me either.” Nick breathed. “Although I think my heart’s gonna stop if you keep squirming on me like that.”

  We both laughed and then I stopped, jarred by a realization.

  The music. It had stopped.

  “Oh, my God! Oh no!” I pushed off of Nick’s chest and awkwardly stumbled upright, now painfully aware of the fact that I was half-dressed.

  Was this the second time I’d found myself half-naked in his presence? What was wrong with me?

  “What’s happened?” He seemed distracted, his eyes unfocused as they tracked my desperate efforts at shoving my breasts into my strapless bra, which—spoiler alert—didn’t work nearly as well in the reverse.

  “The music,” I hissed, panic turning my hands into ineffectual blocks. “They’re about to start the awards presentation! I’m slated to go on first.”

  That seemed to snap him out of this haze. His eyes widened briefly before he stood and joined me, his gaze moving over me with newly sharpened awareness. “All right, everything’s fine. You’ve got this. They’re not gonna start without you. Just let me help you.”

  We worked together, both of us pulling and tugging my dress into place. Nick was in the process of zipping my dress closed, with me simultaneously holding my breasts aloft for best placement, when the door unexpectedly swung open.

  And Jackson James entered the room.

  “Dear God.” I sighed in utter defeat, just as Nick swiftly pulled me partly behind him, blocking Jackson’s view, even though I was already fully clothed.

  Several beats of silence passed before Jackson finally spoke.

  “Well, well, well,” he drawled, and even I would have laughed at his wicked grin if the circumstances weren’t so dire. “What have we here? Is this where my date for the evening, who abandoned me in that big ballroom, has been hiding all night? While I was left all alone, having to fend for myself?”

  “Listen, Jackson—” Nick didn’t sound as if he found Jackson as entertaining as I did, but I could also tell he no longer identified Jackson as a threat. His posture was loose and relaxed, shoulders low, as he faced Jackson.

  “No, you listen, Nick. We all need to get our asses back in that room in less than five minutes so she can hand over that check.” After a deliberate pause, Jackson added, “That is, if y’all are quite done?”

  My cheeks warmed. I cleared my throat and reached up to place a hand on Nick’s solid shoulder. “Nick, do you mind? I’ll see you out there in a minute.”

  Nick turned back toward me, slowly scanning my face again before he leaned in to kiss me. Softly, gently, as if reminding me of what had transpired and all that was now inevitable.

  “Okay, baby,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll see you in there. You look great. You’ll be great.”

  God, my heart.

  Nick didn’t spare Jackson a glance as he left. Jackson waited until Nick was gone until he made his way over to me, all while shaking his head.

  “Oh, I don’t want to hear it,” I said wearily, searching for the flat that had somehow come off during my . . . interaction with Nick.

  Jackson leaned against the nearby wall, arms crossed. “Under the chair.” He pointed. “There.”

  “Thanks.” I kicked the missing low-heeled shoe into my reach.

  “Zora.”

  “Yeah?” I looked up to see Jackson watching me closely, his brown eyes serious. “Do you know what you’re doing? With him?”

  I shoved my foot into my shoe. “Well . . .”

  “No, I need you to look at me.” He paused and waited for me to meet his eyes before he continued.

  “I need to know that you’re okay, that you’re comfortable with the decision you seem hell-bent on making with him. I’m not here to be your daddy, no matter how many bad jokes I may make about that. But I am your friend, and we’ve always been there for each other. So, I need you to let me know if you want me to back him off, slow this down, give you more time to think. Because I will do whatever you need, with no problem.”

  How lucky was I? To have this beautiful, loyal man as my friend?

  “Jackson, you are gonna make some woman incredibly lucky one day. If you ever slow down long enough.”

  He frowned. “Stop chasing rabbit trails and answer my question, woman. Do you know what you’re doing?”

  I pulled Jackson into a hug and felt his arms reluctantly fold around me. “Yeah. I do. It’s time, and I’m ready to see this through, wherever it takes me.”

  “I’m here if you need me,” he said into my hair. “I’ve got your back no matter what happens. You just say the word, and I will throw that
guy in the deepest, darkest pit—”

  I huffed with laughter and he joined in. “Come on.” I whacked his side as I pulled away and towed him to the doorway. “I’ve got a check to give away.”

  “Fine.” There was no mistaking the mischief in his voice when he added, “But I want a formal apology, for all the times you called me a horny goat. ’Cause even in my wildest days, I never got down and dirty in the middle of a fancy—”

  “Shut up, Jackson.”

  “In writing, Zora, I want it in writing.”

  “Shut up.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Zora

  I turned in a circle, wide-eyed at the lake view from Nick’s Bandit Lake rental. The location itself was unparalleled, tucked away along a bend of the river I’d never known existed. Nick’s driver dropped us off just as twilight coaxed the last bit of splendor from the dying sunlight, painting the horizon in a stunning display of purples and pinks. The lake teemed with life and the air filled with the cacophony of cave crickets, katydids, and cicadas. Splashes sounded as beavers, ducks, and all forms of wildlife frolicked in the lake.

  The interior of the open-concept home was even more impressive with a solid, two-story glass wall that provided a jaw-dropping view of the river.

  I paced the length of the living room, pretending to take an interest in the rustic furnishings, the expansive skylight overhead and its unfettered view of the heavens.

  I resisted the urge to bite my nails.

  I was terrified.

  It had seemed simple enough when I agreed to accompany Nick back to his house. Hell, I’d had my breast in his mouth and been shamelessly grinding all over his lap only a few hours before.

  I’d presented my award to the ACS muckety-mucks, endured about an hour of small talk, and patiently addressed all of Jackson’s concerns when I told him I was going home with Nick.

  Nick held my hand the entire ride back to Green Valley. We’d behaved ourselves behind the opaque partition separating us from the driver, but the air was swollen with the weight of expectation. There was no mistaking the lascivious gleam in Nick’s eyes.