by Piper Malone
Beautiful. Perfect. Compliant. Chloe.
“She’s a good fit for you,” I mumble through the thickness in my throat.
“Skyler . . .” He rocks back and forth, hands jammed into his pockets, his wild gaze nailed to the floor. “I froze.”
The hiss and pop of the fireplace punctuates the silence for a brief moment.
“I don’t understand.” Nick is, above all else, a perfectionist in a scene. He plans, executes, and closes a scene with precision.
“We set up a time to review the scene before the training. She said she didn’t need it, but I insisted. We were there, and everything was . . . different.” Nick swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the pressure. “The scene was perfect, textbook. But everything was off. Her skin felt foreign to me. She smelled different.”
“She’s a new person, Nick. She’s going to be different.”
“No. Not like that. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was under glass. I was there, but I wasn’t. I knew it was wrong, but I tried to convince myself that she was you.” Nick stops, inhaling deeply before beginning again. “It worked for a bit. I thought about you and tried to relive the scenes and moments we had together. I felt so deep in the memory, I called her angel.”
The sting of his admission is a terrible knife pressed into my chest. Nick has only ever called me angel. His angel. With the exception of our time here, he only uses it when we are in the depth of a scene. That name is how I know he’s connected to me and the moment. His walls come down, and Nick is free with his affection.
And he gave it to Chloe.
“I don’t know what to say, Nick.” The words are barely out before I’m retreating to the far corner of his bedroom, far away from Nick and the fireplace. The room is too hot, too small, and suffocating. Hell has taken residence in the space where we were going to reconnect and begin again.
“I had to call Ax to finish the scene,” he says.
“What?” I ask, whirling around to look at him. He never leaves something undone. Even on the nights he gave himself over to me, I always knew when our time was finished.
“I couldn’t touch her anymore. Everything felt wrong.” He bolsters himself. “She wasn’t you, and that was the issue. I felt it on a molecular level. My body knew that entering that scene was a violation of us. It took my brain too long to realize the problem.”
“Ax came in, and I left. For two days I tried to forget, tried to feel better, but I still couldn’t stand myself.” He looks at me with pained eyes. “I felt terrible for what I did to us.”
I try to interject, soothe him in some way, but he holds his hand up, stopping me. “I called a domme and asked for a session.”
“With a domme?”
“I couldn’t wrap my brain around being with Chloe and not being with you. I needed somewhere to purge the shit. I hurt. I needed to feel hurt, so I asked her to hurt me.”
“You sought out punishment?”
“I told her everything, and she did her job. I came home and drank myself into an oblivion. Blake found me the next morning in your room.”
“In my room?”
“I needed you, Sky. I needed something. Anything. Your room still smells like you.”
“Nick . . . you didn’t need to do that.”
“I did. It was too much. All of it. My anger, the frustration. I was waiting for you when I should have been here. I couldn’t be here because I didn’t know where you were. I pissed off my family by falling behind on the work for the park. I volleyed between hating you for abandoning us and hoping you’d show up. I hated Caleb for being gone for so long. I couldn’t stand Blake because, well, he’s Blake. Ax was there, but he was working. All the people who knew about us were gone, and I didn’t know what to do with all of it.”
Even his dig on Blake is heartbreaking. I had no idea. “Nick, I missed you the minute I decided to leave.”
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me. I know things were fucked up, but you could have told me.”
“I was totally unprepared for all of this, Nick. I left without understanding, or accepting, the severity of the situation. I underestimated the gravity of what the surgeon was suggesting. There was no way I could have prepared for missing you the way I did. I was vulnerable and scared, and my cousin kept talking about how you might react to my body, and I couldn’t handle the possibility of your rejection.”
“I have scars, Skyler. Plenty of them.”
“Yes, and they are rugged and manly. I have deep cuts across my chest and implants. I’m scarred and fake.”
“You are scarred and you, Skyler . . . you’ve never been fake a day in your life.”
“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind when you see me.”
“I see you now, and I couldn’t be happier.”
“It’s not the same, Nick. I’m not the same.”
He takes a step toward me, his fingers brushing the length of my arms. “Evan told me to take my time with you, but your constant hesitation is irritating.”
“Caleb told me to keep you in line.” I can’t help but laugh as I push against his chest. “Our respective bodyguards are keeping tabs on us.”
“I think you know how to keep me in line.” He chuckles as his powerful hands slide up my arms. “I missed you so much, Skyler. You were the reason I was anchored, and I let you slip away.”
“I cried, Nick. Constantly. I felt lost without you.”
“Never again, angel,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my forehead. “Promise me.”
“I promise. Never again.”
“Can you show me? Can you be honest with me?”
His hands on me are something I’ve felt before. The gentle caress of his touch is new. I have loved him from the beginning, and in his warm hold, I can feel his affection.
“I’m so scared,” I whisper.
“How can I make you feel safe?”
I want him to make promises that are unfair to demand. I want him and us and a life together. But, in the end, I don’t know that the hope of forever will be enough to settle my nerves.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”
“The only way to change that is to start. Show me what you are afraid of.”
I understand his challenge, but the thing I’m most afraid of is the person looking down at me.
“You don’t have to stay with me, Nick. I need you to know that.”
“Okay,” he says.
“And I won’t hold it against you.” A crawling sensation tickles my throat.
“Noted.” I can hear his irritation.
Heat crawls up my skin. My lungs feel tight.
“Hey . . . Sky?” I feel Nick grip my arms. “Skyler,” he stays with force, “we aren’t doing it like this. If you can’t do this right now, it’s okay.”
I feel tears build. “I’m just scared, Nick. I don’t know what you’ll do.”
“What am I going to do, Sky? Look at you? Here,” he says as he pulls off his shirt, “you can look at me first. You can look at all my scars and nicks. I’ll tell you which brother made which one.”
He pulls off his pants, shirt, the thermal layer underneath, and wooly socks and stands naked before me, because Nicholas William Harris always goes commando.
“Here,” he says with his arms extended. “Look. Naked.”
“You don’t have to promise anything to me,” I say, caught in a crying-laughing mashup. My fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt as ribbons of anxiety make my fingers jumpy.
Nick points to his stomach. “Adam threw an open blade at me when we were in the woods one day.”
I nod, my fingers loosening the first button.
Nick holds up his elbow to show me the wrinkled, rippled scar tissue. “Broken elbow. I fell out of a tree stand when I was hunting with Evan.”
“Did he push you?”
“No, but that’s a good rumor to start.”
I stifle a laugh and open the third button.
>
“This”—he points to his collarbone—“a deep-sea hook from Wyatt. Do not ever go deep-sea fishing with Wyatt.”
“Understood,” I reply, pulling the last buttons free. “Nick?”
“Yes?”
“I think I’m ready.” I say the words and regret them.
“This is your moment, Sky. Tell me what you need.”
I need you to promise you’ll love me.
Chapter 30
Nick
I feel like a fumbling fool. There is nothing I want more than to ease this for her, and I can’t. I just have to wait.
“I need to talk to you and tell you what everything is,” she says.
“That’s a good idea.”
“Here.” She moves to the front of the fireplace and points to the chair. “Can you sit there?”
“Sure,” I say, positioning myself per her request. Sitting in the chair, I’m shorter than she is. My face is close to her chest.
I watch her trembling hands reach for the opening of her shirt, and my heart clinches. She’s nervous, and I can’t stand it. I don’t know how to ease her fear.
She pulls the heavy flannel shirt off, revealing a thin thermal that hits the floor moments later. In the firelight, Skyler strips off her pants and wooly socks. In her plain bra and underwear, my angel glows in the firelight.
Her fingers unhook the clasp of her bra.
I chuff at the thought that in the month she’s been with me, she has never taken her top off. “You’ve worked hard to make sure I didn’t see you, Skyler.”
“Mata Hari never took a lover naked. She always wore her bra and had a weapon close by.”
Her explanation is enlightening and horrifying. “She was a spy and was executed. Are we at war, Skyler?”
“No,” she whispers, shrugging off the straps of her bra, holding the cups over her breasts.
She points to a puckered scar just below her left collarbone. “This is where they implanted the port for chemo.” Skyler’s fingers brush over the skin. “Sometimes I still feel the port, even though they removed it months ago.”
I nod, unsure of what to say.
“Are you okay with this?” she asks, hesitant and unsure.
I pull up my knee and show her the jagged scar along the side. “Hiking with Jude. I fell on the sharpest rock I’ve ever encountered.”
Skyler inhales and pulls the fabric of her bra away. Her breasts are dense and round. They hold their shape, devoid of the slack of her natural breasts.
Along the front of each breast is a thick pink scar that looks as if the healing skin was pulled and wrenched.
Her nipples are completely different.
“You can touch them, Nick,” she says with a tight breath. “If you want to,” she quickly adds.
“I want to, Skyler. There is no doubt about that.” I hesitate. “Is there the possibility that I’ll hurt you?”
“Logically, I don’t think so. I’ve had doctors touch me, and it’s been fine. You will be the first person to touch them with any level of intimacy, so that will make it a little easier.”
The bastard in me is glad I’m the one who gets the opportunity to be intimate with her. The thought of some punk med-school resident touching her breast makes me want to kill.
“Don’t,” she says. “All of my doctors were great. Many of them were women, and all the male doctors were fatherly.”
“Was I talking out loud?” I touch her waist only after warming my hands against each other.
“No, but I can tell when your thoughts turn toward murder. You get a wild look in your eye.” She inhales as my fingers skate over her ribcage. “They are hard but should soften over time.”
My hands curve around the outside of her breast and touch the scars lining her chest. Her breath becomes stuttered, rough. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she whispers. “This is overwhelming.”
“It’s just me. I’ve touched you before.”
“You are a big deal, Nick. And you’ve never touched me like this.”
“This is a big deal. I should have been with you.” My thumbs brush across the skin of her nipples, and the odd sensation slams the brakes on my thoughts.
I pull her hips closer to me, turning her toward the fire. “I don’t understand . . .”
A light laugh bubbles up. “They took the skin of my nipple and areola. What you are touching is a 3-D tattoo. There is a guy in New Hampshire who tattoos women who have had mastectomies. It was the first thing I did when I was cleared.”
“That is some seriously amazing work. I could tell it wasn’t your original skin, but I never suspected you didn’t have an actual nipple.” I brush my fingers over her skin. “Beautiful.”
I hear her swallow hard before she speaks. “My next plan is to get the scar tissue covered with sterling roses. I love the silvery purple of the petals. I like the idea of having something feminine with a steely edge decorating the place that could have taken my life.”
“I think that’s perfect.” Her body is captivating, intriguing. Skyler’s essence, her way of being present and giving herself over to me, has always created a deep hum of satisfaction in my body. Now that feeling reverberates and pulses. Before giving too deeply into the need, I refocus on her. “How are you? Do you need me to stop?”
“No,” she replies immediately. “I’m just happy you aren’t revolted.”
“Why would I be revolted?” Her words are shocking, but I can’t let her see that they impact me.
She allows me to pull her closer, nestling her between my spread knees. Her hands push through her hair before coming to rest on my shoulders. “I know how much you like natural beauty.” She swallows hard. “Can you accept this?” she asks as her fingers tremble over her chest.
“Who put this shit in your head, angel?” Her assumptions are irritating. “Since you’ve come back, since we’ve been here, I’ve never pushed you away.”
Skyler wobbles under my hands, her gaze bouncing around the room. “I’ve been so scared of your reaction,” she whispers.
“You should have been more afraid of me finding you in Reign with Blake.” A rough grumble follows and fades into silence. Her fingers play at the end of my hairline. “I think I could forgive anything, Skyler. I can accept your scars if you can accept mine. If this time apart has taught me anything, it’s that I feel too much for you to push you away.”
“And this,” she whispers as her fingers skate across the thin lines of her belly.
“These.” I move my hand, brushing each scar with my fingertips. “These are here so that you are here. When the time comes for us to talk about extending our family, we’ll do what we need to.”
Her breath catches, and I see the tears pool in her eyes. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I left, but it all happened so quickly.”
Skyler’s sadness, her grief, is so foreign to me, I fumble with the words to ease her pain. She is always strong and willful, especially with me. “I would have listened, Skyler.”
Her lips press together, the orbs of her blue eyes swimming in her tears. Skyler mumbles through a response I can’t quite understand before leaning down to kiss me. “I was foolish to doubt you.”
The admission is a gift, easing some of the guilt. I know I contributed to her leaving without a word, but she made the choice to leave as well. “Can we agree that from here on out, we just say the stuff that needs to be said?”
Skyler eases back, making space between our bodies. She nods, her eyes catching mine before focusing on the ridges of my abdomen. Skyler’s touch is tentative yet molten against my skin. This pace, while necessary, is killing me. “Nick,” she whispers, “can we just be together?”
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Tonight, can we be together without any agenda other than getting reacquainted? I want to feel you touch me. I want to step away from everything we’ve ever done and just be us.”
“You want us
vanilla, no kink?”
“I’m not sure.” I can see her thinking. “How about virginal but playful?”
“Who’s the virgin, you or me?”
“We are virgins. Pure, but lustful. Your brothers are throwing a wild party outside, and we’ve snuck away for a session of heavy petting.” She looks energetic. The apprehension that held us in thick suspense seems to be lifted for the moment.
“Well.” I shrug. “My brothers are terrible drunks, so we won’t have to worry about them barging in on us.”
“Exactly,” she says as she pulls me up and toward the bed. “Now, since you are very shy and I am very bold, I’m going to walk you through this.”
“I am very shy,” I agree through a snicker. “I was hoping you would tell me how I could pleasure you.” She steps closer, her fingertips dancing up the rigid length of my cock. An involuntary groan falls from my mouth as she curls her fingers around the tip. It’s been so long since my angel has touched me. “Tell me.” My voice is grated, lost in the pleasure of her hands touching my dick. When she cups my balls in her hands, I feel like my head is going to roll off my shoulders.
“Does this feel good?” she asks.
“Yes,” I growl.
“Does it feel this good when you touch yourself?”
I know she loves to watch me stroke myself. “Never. I think about you when I jack off, and it’s never like this.”
“Show me. Pretend we just went on a date and I kissed you goodbye. Now you are all alone with this massive cock in your hand.” Skyler guides my hand down and pushes my fingers around my pulsing erection.
She’s going to kill me. “But I’m so shy . . . I’m not sure I can . . .”
“Just try,” she purrs. “Just think about me and all the dirty things you want to do to me.”
She might be the death of me, but this is easy as pie. “I want to taste every inch of you.” Her eyes flare when I grip myself with a rough fist. “I’ll start at your neck, nip and lick my way down your beautiful body, and get lost in the delicious taste of your pussy.”
“Mmm.” She runs her tongue over her lips, sinking down to her knees between my legs. She watches me pump my cock while my brain howls for her to put her plush mouth around it. “I missed this,” she murmurs.
