by Nancy Gideon
“Brigit MacCreedy. His sister.”
“Nica Fraser. His lover.”
Eight
Your lover?” Brigit arched an indignant brow at her brother. “I see you have forgotten some things.”
He fought not to flinch. “Good night, Brigit.”
“We’re not finished here, Silas.”
“We are for now. Where are you staying?”
“I have a suite at the Sheraton.”
“I’ll call you.”
“No, you won’t, but you’ll be hearing from me.” Eyeing Nica with a dissecting precision, she sniffed her contempt and strode out into the hall. The door slammed behind her.
“Your sister? That explains a lot.”
“What are you doing here?” MacCreedy asked, too tired and sore to pretend civility.
“Keeping you from falling down. Which way to the bathroom?”
She took his elbow carefully and guided him down the narrow hall to the closet-sized bathroom. Closing the lid on the toilet, she had him sit while she ran cold water in the sink and rummaged for supplies. In the cramped quarters, he leaned back against the sweaty tank to avoid the curve of her rump when she turned to soak a hand towel and then wring it out.
“Okay, let’s see what we got here.” Holding Silas’s wrist to steady his arm, she unwrapped the saturated jacket, tossed it in the shower, and began to blot away the fresh blood. Her movements were brisk, her touch gentle. Silas drew a hissing breath as the ugly wounds were cleaned, and Nica whistled softly. “That’s gonna leave a mark. Hurt much?”
“Only when I have to answer obvious questions.”
She didn’t look up. “Be nice or my bedside manner could get a lot worse.” She arranged a line of gauze pads over the savage bites.
He watched her cautiously, unable to see her expression through the curtain of her hair.
She tied off the dressing with a purposeful tug. “That should hold you together. Let’s get the rest of you cleaned up.”
“I can manage,” he grumbled.
“I’m sure you can. You managed to get yourself into this condition, after all.” She took hold of the bottom of his ripped T-shirt as she spoke and carefully pulled it over his head. Checking for further injuries, she eased her hands over his hair-covered chest and hard abs. Definitely droolworthy; tough, firm, and detailed with muscle. Her fingertips circled a spectacular bruise forming on his side. “Ouch! What hit you here?”
“Car door handle. Went for an unexpected ride.” His voice had gotten huskier, his stare never leaving her face.
Aware of his intent focus, she angled away to drain the discolored water from the sink and to wet a clean washcloth before turning back to him. His eyes were dark, stormy seas. Nica cupped his chin in her hand, holding him still while tending to his face. A very nice face, with strong, solid features and expressive brows that slashed boldly above that turbulent stare to hook like wings. Brows that lowered slightly as she caressed his square jaw.
The washcloth fell to the floor as she bent to snatch his lips for a quick, lusty plunder.
His hands clasped her waist. When he stood, he lifted her without surrendering her urgent mouth. Her arms and legs encircled him as he carried her down the hall, breaking from her kiss only long enough to rumble, “Time to check on that bedside manner.”
The bedroom was in the front of the apartment. A king-size mattress in a wrought iron frame filled most of it. She saw nothing else but the lazy sweep of the ceiling fan as he laid her back on the thin comforter.
This time, he was as methodical as he’d previously been hurried. He skinned off her stretchy capri leggings, kneeling to remove her sandals. Then his mouth began an exquisitely torturous trail up her calf, along her inner thigh, sucking, nipping at her until she quivered in anticipation.
Then he parted her damp folds and began to feast. With his mouth. With his tongue. With his teeth. Until Nica reached down to grip his short hair, pulling him tighter as her hips undulated against him.
For Nica, sex had always been a fierce, hard ride to climax. She’d never wasted time with foreplay, anxious to find a quick relief with a partner with whom she’d share nothing more. But with Silas it was all about the explosive pleasures of the journey, each plateau a new sensual delight, from his hot, hungry kisses and steamy body to the devastating technique that had her writhing over a series of unexpected, control-shattering peaks.
Panting, moaning with a frustrated yearning, she clawed at the bedspread. “Silas . . . Si, please!”
He settled over her, pushing her knit top up her laboring rib cage, over her small, taut breasts. His mouth targeted one tight nipple, then the other, suckling until the delicious sensation pulled at her womb.
Nica thrashed helplessly, shaking, desperate as she pleaded, “Si, finish with me. Please!”
He silenced her with a slow, deep kiss. He palmed her cheeks, eyes burning down into hers as he whispered gruffly, “Don’t beg, Nica. You only have to ask.”
He filled her with a conquering thrust, his tongue plunging deep within her mouth, then withdrawing in tandem with his cock to wring another urgent cry from her. He finally settled into a fast, forceful rhythm that pounded the breath and strength from her until a glorious shock of tension tightened, squeezing, then releasing in a shuddering rush of pleasure.
Nica lay limp, gasping and dazed. She lost herself in his slow, thorough kiss, content to let him use her mouth in urgent exploration. Her palms rubbed over the hard cords of his shoulders, eager to luxuriate in the heavy, sated weight of him above her.
And then she realized in shock that he wasn’t finished with her.
Nica’s thoughts were as heavy as the darkness in the small room. A quiet snore made her smile. Not going to close your eyes? Yeah, right.
MacCreedy was stretched out on his belly beside her, dead to the world after the triathlon he’d pushed them through. She envied his slumber as she stared at the circling shadow of the fan and listened to him breathe.
After the last amazing bout he’d kissed her and rolled away without a word, apparently as guarded about his own space as she was. She wasn’t a snuggler. She never allowed any cuddling not because she didn’t like it, but because it might imply closeness. Commitment, caring. Things she couldn’t invite into her life for fear they’d weaken her. If she didn’t care, she couldn’t be hurt, and she couldn’t be betrayed. This was the first time she’d ever remained beside a partner once the final glow of satisfaction had winked out, and she had no desire to move.
She’d never felt so completely and thoroughly pleasured. Her bones were like liquid, her blood slow and warm. Her muscles had the consistency of overcooked pasta. The very last thing she wanted to do was get dressed and leave this bed where she’d experienced such bliss, or this male who’d shown her the way.
Exhausted, she wished she could curl up against his solid strength for the rest of the night. But she didn’t dare sleep. She was afraid of what might come to her in dreams.
Silas woke with a start. He knew even before his hand touched the empty sheet that she was gone. Before disappointment had a chance to settle, he felt the languid stir of evening air across his bare skin and glanced over to find the window open.
Pulling on a pair of boxers, he stepped out onto the iron grillwork balcony, where steps zigzagged from floor to floor. She sat on the first step down, hugging her knees to her chest. Engulfed by his T-shirt, with her hair loose about her shoulders, she looked poignantly childlike.
Whether it was her unexpected vulnerability or the way something inside his chest took a slow, shuddering roll, Silas hesitated. Suddenly, everything had changed. His sister’s arrival had called him back to his responsibilities. He’d been absent from those he loved for five long, lonely years, and he’d never had any reason for apology—until now. Because of the pull he felt toward Nica.
She didn’t move as he settled on the gridded landing a step above her, bracketing her slender form with his knees. Silas sc
ooped up the heavy spill of her hair, winding it around his hand until her neck was bared. Then he pressed his lips at the graceful base, eliciting a shiver.
“I thought you’d gone,” he murmured.
“I couldn’t. You sucked me dry.” A soft laugh. “Both of us enjoyed that immensely.”
“Several times.”
She leaned back against his chest with a sigh. “Do you always have so much energy?”
“I found myself inspired.”
“And I find myself unable to walk. You’re incredible, did you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.” It wasn’t a boast. His previous sexploits had been pleasant diversions, quickly forgotten. The way he and Nica had intended this to be. When had that changed?
“So many times you get tired of hearing it?” she persisted.
“Not from you.” His arms looped around her, possessive without being smothering. He’d never tire of hearing it from her. And that was what had his conscience churning.
Unaware of his brooding, Nica covered his hands with her own. “I look forward to saying it a lot.”
“Then you’ll be staying here in New Orleans for a while?” He should tell her his own plans were temporary. When had that begun to matter, sharing future plans?
She smiled, her head tipped back, her eyes contemplative. “I’m not sure yet. Would you mind if I did?”
“No. I like your company—when you’re not trying to kill me.”
“The value of your stock has just gone through the roof, lover. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
His cheek rubbed the top of her shoulder. “Let’s go back inside.”
“How could you possibly—?”
He chuckled. “To talk. I don’t think I could manage anything else.” It would be hard enough to manage what he needed to say to her.
“Let’s talk out here. I like the night air. I like the sounds of the city getting ready for bed.”
“I like the sounds you make when you’re in mine.”
Nica closed her eyes, absorbing the noises of the night world. “Your sister doesn’t approve of me.”
MacCreedy gave a snort. “I love Brigit, but I don’t let her vet my relationships.”
“Is that what we’re in? A relationship?”
“You don’t know?”
“Haven’t a clue. You tell me.”
She felt his smile against her hair. “Well, I like you. I like having sex with you. I like that you’ve stopped trying to kill me, at least for the moment. Haven’t you ever been in a relationship before?”
“No. Never in one place long enough. What about you?”
He was silent for just a beat too long.
“Are you in one now?” Nica demanded quietly, holding her breath as she waited for his reply.
“I have obligations,” was his evasive answer.
Which meant yes.
It felt like a knife to the heart.
“Are you mated?”
“No, nothing like that. We haven’t even been intimate.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated,” he told her, his tone getting tighter, more distant.
She wanted to smack him, hard. Bastard!
“Most things are,” she agreed. “What’s she like, this paragon you haven’t had sex with? Obviously she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
“I really don’t want to discuss this with you.” Testy now, as well as guarded.
“Why not? I want to understand how relationships work. Enlighten me.”
“She’s someone I’ve known all my life. We always believed that someday . . . There was a change in my family’s circumstances. It made any hope of a future together impossible. I’m no longer worthy of her consideration.”
“So you’re here to change those circumstances, to win her as your mate?”
“Yes.” Then his voice gentled. “I’m sorry.”
Her lips gave a bittersweet twist. “Why be sorry?”
Nica stood, taking a moment to steady her legs and her expression before she turned toward him. He looked so earnest, so apologetic. She wasn’t sure which she wanted to do more: slap him or kiss him. “You didn’t have to tell me any of this.” How she wished he hadn’t. “I never would have known the difference.”
“I would have known. And you don’t deserve to be lied to.”
“You don’t owe me anything, MacCreedy. Not explanations, not apologies. This was just kind of an ‘Ooh, shiny’ moment. It’ll pass and we’ll both move on—you to your noble plans and me to my selfish ones.”
He didn’t appear relieved. Before he could say anything sincere that would break her heart into even smaller pieces, she cupped his cheek and bent to kiss him. She meant it to be a quick good-bye, but his lips parted and for a moment she surrendered to the sweet taste of remorse. Then her fingertips slipped between their mouths, pressing against his as she lifted away.
“Good night.”
“You don’t have to go.”
He didn’t reach out to stop her; his expression held her. Such a complexity of passion, such longing. Such a trap she’d barely escaped.
“I always leave, MacCreedy. Always.”
Silas sat out on the steps for long, miserable minutes. By the time he climbed back in through the window, all signs of Nica were gone except the scent on his skin and his sheets.
He’d known better. He should have backed away the second he’d felt interest change into something more complicated. With so much at stake, he couldn’t afford to have his edge dulled by desire. Part of him still wanted to call her back, while the other saw blood on the floor and Kendra’s trusting dark eyes lifted to him in adoration.
Guilt lashed him. There’d been no vows spoken, no commitments made, but he’d carried her memory as his talisman, his perfect glimpse of all the things he could aspire to. In those grim, desolate times when he didn’t think he could pick himself up again, when there didn’t seem to be a reason to go on, her pure, golden image would shine like a guiding star to lift him from despair. He had only to recall the moment when her lips had touched his so sweetly, offering a haven of peace where all the ugliness and pain that scarred him was healed.
I’ll hold you safe in my soul until you return to me.
Her tender words carried him through the worst days and tided him over on lonely nights.
But those sentiments were just a faint whisper now. So much time had gone by. Hope had faded to near transparency. But now, with the reality of that dream at hand, he was reluctant to claim it. Because of Nica.
He couldn’t have both things—the desire and the dream. So he closed off the discord in his mind by choosing as he always did, with his heart, where love of family ruled over any individual wants. Always.
Unable to return to bed, Silas carried a cold beer out onto the balcony, where he sat on the window ledge until the sky began to brighten with the promise of dawn. A new day that held nothing for him but duty and regret.
A knock at his door had him tugging up his jeans as he hurried to answer. Had Nica come back? He could explain, make her understand.
“I brought you breakfast.” His sister stood in his hallway with a takeout bag from Café Beignet and a cup of coffee. “And I wanted to see how you were doing,” she added.
Right. She wanted to see if he was alone.
“I appreciate your concern. I’m fine, but I’m going to be late for work if I don’t get in the shower now.”
As she stepped inside, Brigit’s delicate nostrils flared, taking in the details of everything he’d done as clearly as if she’d read it in a tabloid.
“Is she still here?” Venom dripped from her tone.
“No. Not that that’s any of your business.”
Setting down her peace offering, she said with icy directness, “It is when it interferes with our business.”
“Our business?” he bit out just as coldly. The anger was so sudden and strong, he didn’t have time to catch it. “
Since when has this involved you? Have you ever once gotten your hands dirty? Have you ever sacrificed or risked anything, except by association? I’ve made all the sacrifices. I’ve taken all the risks so you wouldn’t have to. I have given my heart, soul, and blood since I was fourteen years old. So if I want to take an hour out of my whole fucking life to do something other than tend to our business, cut me some damned slack.”
She stared up at him, eyes round with surprise. When she finally spoke, her words were faint and fragile.
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. You’ve taken care of everything without getting anything in return. We’ve depended on you for so long, we’d be lost without you.” She looked down as if ashamed; then her words strengthened in determination. “But I am involved, Silas. Not a night goes by that I don’t wake up hearing those screams. I haven’t spent one single day free of fear. I’m tired of living with constant terror. We’re so close, Silas—so close to having everything back the way it was.”
“Not everything,” he said, making her glance up at him again. “We can’t get them back.”
At the shimmer of tears in her eyes, his arms went about her, pulling her in to cradle her like he had when they were children. For a moment, she clung the way she had all those years ago, but soon her prideful starch returned and she levered away from his embrace. Though not too far away. She looked up at him somberly. “They’d be so proud of you.”
Her sincerity struck like an unexpected blow and he reeled slightly, his vision swimming until he had to close his eyes to maintain control.
Brigit lightly brushed his cheek with her fingertips. “We’re counting on you to do whatever’s necessary until we have what they wanted for us. Eat your breakfast, take your shower, and remember that we love you.”
She left him standing there, struggling with emotions only she and their mother had been able to manipulate with such ease, winding them up into a tight, aching knot with the keys to his heart: pride, guilt, and devotion.
When he finally reached for the coffee with shaky hands, it was cold. By the time he stood under the shower spray, so were his intentions.
