by Julia Blake
Nick wouldn’t have cared if he were the only one in the press box that evening. Being here gave him something to do while he counted down the hours until Rachel was back from LA. At the moment, she was in the air—probably somewhere over Ohio—and as far as he was concerned, she couldn’t get home fast enough.
It had been a long few days without her. He’d brushed it off, trying to be casual about the fact that he wouldn’t see her, but it was killing him slowly. They’d spoken on the phone every night—quick snatches of conversation as he headed to bed and she went from cocktails to dinner to postgame drinks with clients and reps. It was nice, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to run his hands over the curve of her back, skimming over silky skin. He needed to bury his nose in her hair and breathe in the scent of orange blossom from the shampoo she kept in her shower. He’d give anything to hear the little gasp and sigh she gave whenever he slid into her, claiming her. He wanted her here.
His timing, admittedly, was shit with her business trip coming right after the night he’d laid out his feelings for her. He’d cleared up dinner and walked her home before kissing her outside her front door and forcing himself to leave. He’d known without asking that she’d need space—hell, he hadn’t even slept over at her place yet, even though she’d woken up at his apartment twice. She might have agreed to make them official, but that didn’t mean the gears weren’t clicking over in her head, processing on her own time. But he’d still spent the entire walk from the Upper East Side to Chelsea regretting that he hadn’t sweet-talked his way upstairs and into her bed.
Now he was starting to lose it.
He pulled out his phone and checked his texts. Of course there was nothing. She was midflight, and even with Wi-Fi, she was working and so was he.
Nick shoved his phone across the table. He should be tweeting about the game. That’s what NYSN paid him to do, and even if this interview with Kevin made it to air like he planned, he still needed to do his day-to-day reporting.
“Rough night?”
He twisted around. Chris was sitting in the row above him.
“Hey, man. I thought you were heading out to the concourse,” he said.
Chris shrugged. “Too many people out there, I don’t want to deal with them.”
“I don’t blame you.”
Nick’s phone dinged, and he grabbed for it. The hope that had risen up popped like a soap bubble. It was just his college buddy texting about Mizzou basketball’s head coach.
He tossed the phone down in disgust only to catch a glimpse of Chris’s shit-eating grin.
“Texting that pretty little agent?” his photog asked.
Nick bristled. “You mean one of the most powerful female sports agents in the business?”
Chris leaned back in his chair, smug as fuck. “That’s the one. You going to hit that?”
Nick pushed back from the table. Gripping onto his self-control so hard he shook, he said low, “Disrespect her and I’ll put you through a wall.”
Chris howled and slapped his leg. The team from the local CBS affiliate shot them a pair of scathing looks. Not that it shut Chris up.
“That bad, huh?” the cameraman asked.
He was overreacting, he knew that, but this was Rachel. He couldn’t shake the instinct to jump to her defense whenever her name came up—even if she didn’t need his help.
“Well,” Chris said, “it was nice knowing you, man.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“All my friends looked just like you do a couple weeks after meeting their wives.”
Nick snorted, his anger ebbing away a bit as his brain caught up with his body and reminded him that Chris was a coworker. A sometimes idiot, but a coworker. “Until a few weeks ago she hated my guts.”
Chris shoved away from the table. “Just make sure to invite me to the wedding.”
“Fuck off,” muttered Nick, fighting a grin as his photog ambled out the door.
He did have it bad.
Fuck it.
Nick picked his phone up again and typed out a fast message:
I want to see you tonight.
Then he settled in for the second half of the Knicks game.
THE OVERHEAD seat belt sign dinged off, and the cabin of Rachel’s flight from LA filled with the sounds of dozens of seat belts clicking open. After five and a half hours in the air, they were finally back in New York.
Standing, she eased her suitcase out of the overhead compartment. Then she hauled her oversize purse over her shoulder and dug out her phone.
She scrolled through her messages as she inched toward the exit. She was just out on the Jetway when she saw Nick’s text:
I want to see you tonight.
Short. Sweet. Clear. It was Nick through and through.
She smiled and with her one free hand typed back:
Aren’t you at work?
Not the most romantic message in the world, but practical.
A text popped up almost immediately:
My last live hit is done. Heading back to the station now.
Her finger hovered over the phone’s keyboard. She could put him off and say she was tired—a totally legitimate response when she desperately wanted a shower and sleep—but that didn’t stop the fact that he hadn’t been far from her thoughts in the last four days.
She was still getting used to the idea of Nick as boyfriend, but the more she’d thought about it the more she wanted what he was offering. It wasn’t perfect. They’d still have to keep things low-key until after Kevin’s story aired to avoid any problems at work for Nick, but slowly Rachel was starting to see how he might fit into her future.
Making a decision, she typed out another text:
I’ll see you at my place in 45.
Then, before she could change her mind, she stuffed her phone into her purse.
RACHEL’S CAB pulled up in front of her building at 12:15 on the dot. The street was quiet at this time of night, except for a couple of smokers hanging out in front of the bar on the corner. She paid and pulled on the coat she’d been happy to shuck off in Los Angeles as the driver unloaded her luggage from the trunk.
“I’ve got that,” said a low, masculine voice from behind her.
She turned to see Nick striding out of her building, his coat unbuttoned and blowing open around him. The look in his eyes made her heart skip. Determined, hard, and needy. All at once she felt every single one of their four days apart.
He wrapped her up in his arms, tilting her head back, and then his lips were on hers. He kissed her long and deep, drinking her in as though he’d never have enough. Her arms went around his waist, pulling him closer. She wanted to stay like this—in the exquisite moment of reunion—forever.
When Nick broke their kiss, she couldn’t hide the little whimper in the back of her throat. He brushed his hand over her hair as though amazed she was there with him.
“You’re home,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Home. It wasn’t her apartment she’d come home to but him. Emotion caught in her throat, and she nodded. “I’m home.”
He hugged her tight. “I missed you.”
A certainty she’d never felt before washed over her. She didn’t know what to do with the powerful emotion, and so she simply said, “Let’s go inside.”
Suitcase secured, they hurried in to her building. As Nick looped his arm around her neck to pull her close while they walked, Ernie nodded to them. That might have something to do with the tall cup of steaming coffee next to his hand.
“Smart move with the coffee,” she said as the elevator doors slid open.
“I’m winning Ernie over slowly but surely. He just doesn’t know it yet. How was your flight?” he asked.
“Uneventful but busy.” She sighed. “I worked the entire time.”
“
Anything you want to talk about that you can talk about?”
She appreciated the qualifier—that you can talk about. That was the key. So far Nick had been understanding when there was something she couldn’t say to a member of the press—even him. It was how they’d managed to walk the fine line between their jobs over the last couple of weeks.
“Not really,” she said. “Just a lot of press releases for endorsement deals. A couple charity events too. None are on the East Coast, unfortunately, so I might be making another trip out west soon.”
Her phone dinged right as the elevator doors shut. She pulled it out of her purse and frowned at the display. It was Jesse from All-Star Sports:
Would really like to talk to you about a position at All-Star. Think you’d be a great fit. Call me.
She gave a short laugh. Not a chance.
“What is it?” Nick asked.
“A guy from a rival agency’s been trying to poach me away for a while now. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”
Nick stepped back to let her out of the elevator. “I don’t think you should do it,” he said, echoing her thoughts.
“Why?” she asked as she pulled her keys out and unlocked the door. Even if she’d made up her mind long ago that All-Star Sports would be a step down from Image, she wanted his perspective.
He shrugged and put her suitcase down in the front hallway along with a bag of his own. “You’re too good to be working for someone else. You should go solo like you told me you wanted to.”
He’d remembered that? The conversation had happened in a post-sex haze so blissed-out that she’d assumed he hadn’t paid much attention. But he had, and it touched her in a way she wouldn’t have expected.
She dropped onto the couch and toed her heels off. “I did have a couple meetings when I was out there.”
“And?” He picked up her legs up by the ankles, sat down, and set her feet down on his thigh.
“I think I’ve got enough clients with enough flexibility in their contracts that I can make the break. It’s just a question of timing.”
His thumb found the arch of her right foot and rubbed. She groaned. “Can you do that a little harder?”
Nick obliged as he said, “Don’t wait too long. You may find that the timing’s never right.”
She shot him a curious look. “What about you? You’re fighting for a spot at a station that doesn’t seem to want much of its staff around anymore.”
“I’m not opening my own TV station, if that’s what you mean.”
She nudged him with the foot not being massaged. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I’m looking for another job.” He smoothed a hand over the top of her other foot. “But I really don’t want to talk about work right now.”
She faked a glare. “You brought it up.”
That earned her a pinch on the back of her ankle that sent a delicious shudder through her. “And I’m the one who’s shutting it down. We’ve got other things to do.”
His hand crept a little higher up her stocking-clad leg, and she couldn’t help squirming a little. She was desperate to feel him stretch her. Push her. Complete her.
“And if I keep talking?” she asked. His hand stroked around her knee now, sending little pulses up through her body.
That grin she loved split his features. “I can tell you exactly what I’m going to do to you. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” Her back arched as his fingers dipped under her skirt.
His other hand started its progress up her other leg, catching up to its partner and drawing out the teasing anticipation that had been building for days.
“All I’ve been able to think about is how soft you are, and now you’ve got these stockings on,” he said. His fingers skimmed the skin of her inner thighs, heating her blood. “I can’t feel you the way I want to.”
“So take them off,” she challenged, scooting her hips up and off the couch.
Nick leaned further over her, his mouth hovering close enough that he could kiss the back of her knees. First one. Then the other.
He caught the top of her stockings and drew them slowly down her legs, his eyes never leaving the view. When they were finally off, he tossed them over his shoulder. “You wear too much clothing.”
She laughed. “You want me to walk around naked?”
He locked eyes with her. “I don’t want anyone else to see you the way I get to.”
There it was again, that hint of possessiveness that roared up whenever they were together. She’d never before liked it when men staked their claim, but with Nick it felt different. It wasn’t ego driving him. It was raw desire for her.
His hands slid up again, brushing along the front of her underwear before he hooked two fingers around the top hem and dragged them down her legs too. “Better.”
Rachel dropped her knees to the side, opening for him. She wanted contact—needed it—and she gasped when he gave it to her, brushing the back of a finger over her aching clit.
“I like the sounds you make,” he said, his other hand moving her skirt up so that it was out of the way. He kneeled next to the couch and kissed her right hip bone. “Like you can’t even form sentences.”
She was struggling to get control of her thoughts as he slowly circled her clit with his index finger. Her muscles clenched, and heat stirred between her legs. Her hands found his shoulders, and her nails dug into the muscles that bunched in his back. One finger. He was driving her crazy with one finger.
“Now,” he said, lips against the skin stretched taut over her hip, “I want to say that I’m going to spend some time getting you all warmed up like a good boyfriend should, but what I really want to do is fuck you right over the arm of this couch.”
Yes.
He slid a finger into her, and her muscles clenched around him. “What do you think about that, Rachel? Slow and sweet or hot and fast?”
Her hips kicked up, grinding against his hand to try to get just a little more pressure against her clit. If he’d just move his damn thumb half an inch . . .
“Rachel,” he said sharply, and her eyes flew open. “I asked you a question. Slow and sweet or hot and fast?”
“I swear to God,” she gasped out, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to hurt you.”
His laugh filled the living room, and he surged up to kiss her full and hard on the mouth. She sighed into him, wiggling a little at the just-right pressure of his hand, but then he drew back.
“On your feet,” he ordered.
She scrambled out from underneath him, happy to follow directions in this one area, and stood facing him with her underwear still hooked around one foot. His hand stroked over her cheek, a moment of tenderness before he flipped her around and bent her over the arm of the couch.
Her elbows pressed into the soft fabric, her ass straight in the air. Standing like this before a man should feel vulnerable, powerless, but in his hands she felt damn gorgeous.
He leaned over her, the weight of him warming her. “Later, I want you naked in bed, but right now, I want to be inside of you so badly it hurts.”
His hands traced along her rib cage and up over her breasts. She pushed into his touch, shameless in her need for him. “Please, Nick.”
He growled. “Don’t move.”
He stepped away, and she sagged a little at the loss of his heat, his touch. Still, she’d do exactly what he wanted and not move a muscle.
She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper.
“Do you know how amazing you look like that?” he asked.
His hand slid up to the back of her neck, lightly resting there to steady her as he nudged up against her sex.
He slid into her, parting her slowly as she took the hard length of his cock. “Four days of missing you. Of wanting you.”
The word
s he whispered in her ear shot through her as he drew out and rocked against her again. She’d missed him too, so much it scared her. She hadn’t just wanted him, she’d needed him.
Her arms braced against the couch as he took her hot and fast—just like he’d promised. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing through her shirt and her bra, but it was the angle of his cock pounding into her that sent the heat rolling through her. She pushed back, fingers grasping at upholstery, giving him the resistance he needed to hit her in just the right spot over and over.
As heat began to build low in her core she pushed up on her tiptoes, changing the angle just a bit, and she was there. Her orgasm crashed down on her—glass shattered into a million perfect pieces. Nick grunted, giving full rein to his desire now. He came hard behind her, hips bucking in shallow strokes that finished him until he collapsed against her back.
They stood on shaky legs for a moment. Rachel, still bent over the couch, didn’t want to move. She wanted to keep him like this—connected—for just a little longer.
When Nick pulled out of her, he gathered her up into his lap and rested her head against his chest. He kissed her forehead, smoothing a hand up and down her arm. She relaxed without hesitation. She was getting better at this part—she was coming to like it.
She was coming to like him.
“Nick.” She cleared her throat. “I was wondering if you wanted to stay over tonight.”
His hand stilled and for a moment she thought she’d totally misread the situation. That he didn’t want to stay. But then he pulled back so he could drop a kiss to her lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She frowned, her eye catching the bag he’d dropped just inside the living room. “Then what is that?”
“That was wishful thinking. Now”—he scooped her up in his arms—“time for bed. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
Chapter 18
Are you ready for this?” Rachel asked Kevin as they pulled up to the corner of East 147th Street and Concord Avenue. It was 1:55—five minutes before Kevin was due to give the toughest interview of his life. Like before, the NYSN van was already parked at the site. Nick no doubt waited inside. Rachel tried not to think about the fact that they’d kissed each other goodbye that morning, knowing later they’d come head-to-head at the interview she didn’t want to happen.
