by Laura Taylor
He wanted to absorb her into his flesh, to lodge her permanently in his heart. He needed to feel her body writhing in passion beneath his own. And he craved that small death and then a glorious rebirth in her arms. He accepted, however, the limitations of nature and his own conscience as he devoured her mouth like the man that he’d become—a man desperate for tenderness, compassion, and love. With Hannah, he couldn’t mask his desperation any longer.
She gasped beneath his mouth, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she allowed him to delve past the barrier of her teeth and welcomed him into the sweet, hot depths and textures of her mouth. Circling his shoulders with her arms, she murmured indecipherable words as she angled her head to encourage even more intimate access.
Although he ached to tuck her beneath him and bury himself in her heated silken flesh, Nicholas put the brakes on before he went spinning out of control. He forced himself to gentle his kiss. Slowly, regretfully, he released her lips and lifted his head.
They stared at each other, both trembling, both stunned.
Nicholas muttered an anger–filled curse. "I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened."
Still shaking with reaction, Hannah pressed her fingertips to her swollen lips. "You don’t… want me?"
"What man in his right mind wouldn’t want you?" Fury—with himself—vibrated in every word.
"There’s only been one man in my life, but you know that from the report."
He groaned her name, and he heard the supplicant in search of his own salvation in the sound.
"I’m sorry, Nicholas."
He saw what resembled guilt in her eyes. "For what?"
"For making this so awkward. For throwing myself at you like this."
"You haven’t," he said, "and you didn’t."
"Ground glass," she whispered.
"What?"
"Your voice sounds like ground up glass when you’re upset with me."
"I’m not upset." He shifted, trying to relieve the throbbing of his hard shaft even though he sensed the futility of his effort. He’d been aroused for five and a half solid days, and he didn’t expect his need of her to politely retreat. "I’m not upset with you," he repeated.
"You obviously don’t want to be here right now."
He stared in disbelief at her upturned face. Had he been so cruel to her that she’d failed to grasp the impact she had on him?
Hannah nervously shoved her hair back from her face. "I’m a mess."
His hands shook as he smoothed them up and down her narrow back. "The most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen."
She laughed then, the sound faintly soggy from her tears. "I’ve never been one of those women who look good when she’s crying. I just get all puffy and pale."
Still perched in his lap, she twisted suddenly. Her breasts brushed across his chest as she reached for a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blotted her wet cheeks.
Nicholas bit back a groan. To his mind, she personified the ultimate sensual temptation—even if she didn’t seem to realize it.
Hannah glanced at him. "I really didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable with all the water–works."
He chuckled at her choice of words. Uncomfortable didn’t even begin to cover it.
"You haven’t got a clue about how you make me feel, Hannah Cassidy."
"I can guess. My sisters insist that I have an abrasive personality, and my brothers claim I’m about as subtle as a ten car pile–up on the freeway when I want something. Nice, huh?"
He gripped her upper arms, held her still when she tried to move, and settled her deeply into his lap, no longer attempting to conceal his arousal. "You can’t even begin to understand how I feel about you."
Her eyes widened with surprise at his lack of subtlety, but she didn’t try to shift away. She studied him then, her expression reflective. "I think you find me annoying."
"At times," he agreed.
She stuck out her tongue like a five year old. "I also think you respect me."
He nodded, a hint of gentle humor in his normally cool gaze.
"And you might even get to like me if we could stop doing battle over Sean."
Amazed when she fell silent and simply looked at him, he shook his head in disbelief. "That’s it?"
"There’s more?" she asked.
"You really aren’t very experienced, are you?" His voice contained a raw hunger that blistered his veins with desire and sent hot blood surging into his already hard sex.
"That’s not the sort of thing a woman wants to apologize for."
Hannah lifted her hand. She trailed her fingertips across his chin and then up the side of his face. He ground his back teeth together, trying to mute his reaction to her touch. Then, he saw her eyes widen fractionally, felt the tremor that shook her fingers, and experienced it right down to his soul when surprise and sensual recognition flushed her cheeks.
He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. "Talk to me."
"You do want me," she breathed.
"You needn’t sound so shocked."
"I just assumed…" Her voice trailed off.
"What did you assume?" he prodded.
"I… you… you’ve avoided me whenever possible. You only speak to me when you’re forced to. I thought…"
"What did you think?"
"What was I supposed to think?" she countered.
"Have you ever asked yourself why I’ve tried to keep my distance?"
"At first, I thought you disliked me. But then I realized that, even if you liked me, your loyalty to Sean… well, I assumed your friendship with him kept you from… treating me normally." She frowned. "That sounded really lame, didn’t it?"
Nicholas understood all too well what she thought. He’d wanted her to believe that his loyalty to Sean would prevent him from treating her like any other woman. And it should have. Little did Hannah know how much he wanted her as his woman, or how much he longed to steal a few moments out of time with her that were free of obligation and the haunting memories of his past.
"Perhaps I’m not as honorable as you’d like me to be," he remarked.
Startled, she gripped his shoulders. "You’re the most honorable man I’ve ever met."
"Your opinion of me seems to be improving."
"Pay attention, Nicholas. It never needed to improve." She paused, frowned, and then gave him a look that sparkled with unadulterated challenge. "I’m attracted to you, and I care about you far more than any other man I’ve ever known. What does or does not happen between us has nothing whatsoever to do with my big brother. Are we absolutely clear on that?"
Astounded by her bluntness, he knew he’d never known a woman more honest or more willing to make herself vulnerable to rejection by a potential lover. He brought his hands up, encircled her with his arms, and drew her into the heat and hardness of his body. Her breasts plumped against his chest, her nipples stabbing like delicate daggers through the barrier of their clothing.
"I’ve been trying not to take advantage of you," he managed through gritted teeth.
"Then stop trying right now. Making love isn’t about taking advantage, not when both people care about each other and want it to happen."
He held her close, emotions in chaos, his desire for her clamoring to be appeased. Sliding his hands down her back to her hips, he shifted her forward, allowing her to feel the extent of his need.
"I trust you," she whispered as she met his steadily darkening gaze and undulated against him. "I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my entire life."
"Why?" His voice when he spoke sounded tattered. His hands shook as he shifted them up her body and closed them over her high, full breasts. He heard her moan, absorbed the shudder that rocked her slender frame. She wanted his touch, he realized as he watched her head fall back and her eyes close. Almost as much, it seemed, as he wanted, needed, to touch her.
"You’re a good man, Nicholas. No one, not even you, will ever persuade me otherwise."
<
br /> "How can you possibly know what kind of man I am?" He sounded aggressive, demanding. He knew the truth of what he’d once been, even if she refused to see or accept it.
"Instinct. You’re stubborn, dictatorial, and temperamental, but you are not mean–spirited or cruel."
He began, "You don’t know…"
"I know enough. You’ve got a conscience. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be holding back with me even now."
"I am holding you." His fingers tightened over her breasts.
She arched her back, delivering herself more fully into his hands even as a hint of rebelliousness blazed in her eyes. "And are you going to stop?" she challenged.
How could he stop now? Would he ever be able to stop? he wondered as her nipples tightened even more beneath the light cotton of her nightgown. They stabbed into his palms, searing his flesh and his senses. All he could think about was taking them, one by one, into his mouth and suckling until he sent them both over a sensual cliff.
The pulse throbbing in the hollow of Hannah’s throat beckoned. Leaning down, Nicholas laved her skin with the tip of his tongue. When he lifted his head, he saw the flush in her cheeks. She smiled then, a slow womanly smile that eclipsed the brilliance of a sizzling summer sun.
"I never intended to take advantage of you." He withdrew his hands from her breasts and closed them into snug fists. "I’ve treated you like hell, you’re obviously exhausted, and you’re worried about Sean."
Hannah pressed a fingertip against his lips to silence him. "I want you. Why won’t you believe me?"
He gave her a hard look. He wanted to believe her, more than he wanted air to breathe, but he feared hurting her if he lost himself, however briefly, in her heat and sensuality. And he hated what it would do to her when he was forced to send her away, because he would send her back to her world—for her sake.
Nicholas froze as she brought her slender fingers to the buttons at the front of her nightgown. He watched her, the air in his lungs trapped and burning, the disbelief flooding his mind almost crippling, as she undid the buttons one by one. He lifted his gaze to her face, and he knew he’d never before seen a look of such utter determination and love in a woman’s eyes. The sight shocked him, tantalized him, utterly seduced him.
Hannah shrugged free of her nightgown, which flowed down past her shoulders and away from her body to settle in a cottony drift around her hips. Nicholas groaned her name, entranced by the beauty of her creamy skin, the fullness of her tightly peaked breasts, and the soft swell of her stomach. She was everything he’d imagined she would be, and he’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful.
She gripped his wrists and tried to return his hands to her breasts, but he used his superior strength to keep his closed fists a centimeter above her trembling flesh. Nicholas felt the heat emanating from her skin. His fingers ached. He ached.
Then, he noticed the telltale signs of her nervousness, even though she tried to conceal them. Deep in his heart, he felt humbled by her willingness to risk her emotions, because he understood better than most the anxiety involved. But he also felt wary.
"Touch me, Nicholas." Diverse emotions played across her face as she stared up at him, making him feel like an intruder on her most private thoughts. "I think I’ve waited my whole life to feel your hands on me and to know what it’s like to have you inside me."
His heart stuttered in his chest. Eyes riveted on her expressive features, he unclenched his fists, circled the undersides of her breasts with his fingertips, and stroked his thumbs back and forth across her distended nipples. She shuddered in response, and the barriers that had surrounded his heart for what seemed like an eternity turned to dust. Heat cascaded through him, scalding his veins. Pressure throbbed with near violence in his loins.
"There’s no future in this," he warned her in a low, grit–filled voice. "I won’t make promises I can’t keep. I won’t lie to you, Hannah."
She trembled, but she didn’t draw back from him. "There’s always a future in caring and in sharing honest emotions." She gripped his shoulders, groaning when he encompassed her breasts with his hands and kneaded them. "But I’m not asking for promises. I just want you… only you."
He’d never known anyone like her. He owed her the truth. She knew so little of his life, past or present, and yet she still wanted him, wanted him with an honesty and openness that bewildered him. Even more, she made him believe in the possibility of loving and being loved without motives or hidden agendas, a belief he’d abandoned as a boy.
Reaching for Nicholas, Hannah met his gaze and whispered, "Let me love you, Nicholas. That’s all I want to do."
She bathed his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, then captured and worried it with gentle teeth until he groaned. The sound resonated with defeat and hunger. Although curious about the former, she focused on his hunger.
She tempted and she healed as she kissed him. Without separating their mouths, she tugged up the hem of his sweater, lightly scored the hard muscles of his belly with her fingernails, and then sank her fingers into the dense mat of black hair that covered his chest. She felt his shudder, and she gloried in her ability to arouse him.
Hannah cried out in protest when Nicholas wrenched free of her several moments later. She knelt in the center of the bed, her hair a wild dark halo around her face, her breasts bared to his gaze. She made no attempt to conceal herself. If anything, she felt uncharacteristically brazen.
She watched Nicholas discard his clothing, just as he watched her the entire time with an expression on his face that made her think of stone carvings. But she knew that stone was cold to the touch, just as she knew that Nicholas was a constant source of heat.
Hannah shimmied free of her nightgown, tossed it aside, and then sank back across the center of the bed. She waited, her eyes never leaving his face as he towered over her. As his gaze repeatedly swept over her naked body, she felt as though he’d waved a wand of flame across her skin.
The desire she glimpsed in his eyes dispelled her nervousness and infused her with even more courage—the courage she needed thanks to her one failed experience as a lover. She consciously discarded all thoughts of Len Hillman and the feelings of inadequacy he’d inspired in her. Nicholas was nothing like the selfish man who’d bypassed her emotional needs in favor of his own hurried sexual satisfaction.
She studied him then, taking in the unyielding contours of his muscle–ridged body. She let her gaze drift slowly downward from his broad shoulders to his hair–covered chest and then on to his flat belly. Hannah shivered, her insides dissolving into thick, steaming currents of need as her attention was arrested by his sex, which jutted strong and proud from a dense nest of dark hair. When she took in his heavily muscled thighs, and she realized that he was more physically magnificent than any wild creature she’d ever seen or imagined. Quite simply, he made her heart race.
She lifted her gaze back up to his face, and she opened her arms to him in welcome. He dropped down onto the bed and stretched out beside her. The mattress shifted beneath his weight. She felt the rippling tension in his body as he gathered her into his arms and rolled her onto her back.
She absorbed his heat through hands pressed against his chest as he moved over her. Hannah held her breath for a long moment, the image of their bodies joined and moving as one dominating her thoughts and bringing a flush to her skin.
Nicholas peered down at her, his face taut and dangerous looking, his slate colored eyes dark and intense. "I can’t seem to resist you."
She smiled up at him, her expression infinitely tender as she smoothed her fingertips down the sides of his hard–featured face. She sensed that he still doubted the wisdom of what they were about to do, but she refused to turn back now. She couldn’t.
Sean, she thought, would not judge her. If he did, she would make him understand that she was falling in love with the man who protected him. "I’m glad you can’t resist us, Nicholas. I think I would die if you did."
"Tell me
what you want," he urged as he braced his weight on his forearms, bracketed her head with his hands, and settled his narrow hips between her thighs.
Startled by his question, Hannah looked at him for a long moment. She suddenly felt even more conscious of her lack of sexual sophistication.
The pulse points in her body throbbed wildly. She saw by the look in his eyes that she could ask anything of him. A hot greedy rush enflamed her senses. She wanted to know every bit of him, share all of the experiences possible between a man and woman.
"I want everything and then I want more, but first I need your taste in my mouth."
He exhaled a choppy gust of air. "You’re going to be hell on wheels, aren’t you?"
"I’m yours. No rules. No games. No pretense. And very little experience. I just want us both to feel good about what we share, and I want to please you."
"You do please me. Christ, woman, if you pleased me anymore, I wouldn’t survive the experience."
She laughed, certain he lied more out of kindness than from any desire to make her feel foolish. "But I haven’t done anything."
"You’re wrong. You’ve done everything. Now, it’s my turn."
He blocked out the light from the bedside lamp, took her lips, and nibbled at her until she felt like a delicacy created for his pleasure alone.
Her eyes fluttered closed as he took possession of her. Parting her lips, she moaned into his mouth as he deepened their kiss. He gave her his taste, and she savored it. He drenched her senses in his passionate intent with a taunting preview of all that they would eventually share until she felt overcome by endless waves of emotion that threatened to submerge her.
Pleasure simmered in her veins. Her heart pounded so hard, she experienced a moment of fear. She clutched at his shoulders as Nicholas repeatedly delved past her lips and into the wet heat of her mouth.
He teased her without mercy, scavenging her senses, staking his claim, and tantalizing her with peaks and valleys of sensation. He devastated her grasp on reality and sent her spinning into space. Then, he stole her breath, and he made her skin tingle.
Hannah craved every sweep and thrust of his tongue, every skilled movement of his mobile lips, and then she craved even more of the same, but she knew she wasn’t guilty of greed. She needed, and Nicholas alone inspired her need, just as he alone possessed the power to satisfy it.
