by Renee Reeves
"Nick!"
He made a soothing sound and cupped her closer; her belly pressed against him, leaving no doubt that he was fully aroused.
"I missed you.” He nuzzled her ear with his nose, nibbled his way down her throat. “You smell so damn good, Morgan."
"I-I just got out of the tub."
His breath hissed between his teeth, “Damn sweetheart, don't tell me that. I've been walking around with a hard-on all day because I couldn't stop thinking about you.” He nipped her neck, right in the curve of her shoulder, making her gasp. On their own her hips arched, pressing against him. “I kept picturing the way you looked last night, spread out before me like a feast on the bed. Your legs wide open. That sexy hair framing your body like a living piece of art...” his voice lowered, growing strained and hoarse as his hot, wet mouth traveled up her throat. Morgan's head fell to the side, granting his mouth free access. “And the way you tasted, so creamy ... like the sweetest syrup...” a deep rumbling growl came from the depths of his chest, “fuck ... I could eat you all day long and never get tired.” She moaned as his lips traveled along her skin, giggling when he hit a tickle spot near the back of her neck and lingered there to abuse it.
"Mmm,” she sighed breathily, “that feels sooo good Nick..."
His hands slid up her back to cup the back of her head. He planted a hard, quick kiss on her mouth, then threw a grin at her, “Made it damned difficult to ride a horse. Not to mention it embarrassed the hell out of Jake."
Morgan felt her whole face begin to redden. “He knows?"
Nick grinned again and using his body began to back her into the house. “He's a man, Morgan. It didn't take long for him to figure it out."
"Oh God," she cringed, “please tell me I'll never have to face him again."
Nick chuckled and his breath huffed across the top of her head. “Sorry honey, but if I have my way you'll be seeing a lot of each other."
"W-Wait!” She twisted in his hold as he maneuvered her into the front hallway. “Why did you want to know if I liked cats?"
"Because you can tell a lot about a person by whether they like cats or not."
After all they had done last night that's how he judged her? Whether or not she liked cats? “Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “That's kind of a lame answer Nick."
"Um hmm. But that's the one you're getting.” His tongue licked along her collarbone and then he nibbled his way back up her throat to her earlobe, biting it, making her melt. “Go for a drive with me."
His breath caressed her ear, warm and soft. His hands slid low on her back, over her buttocks and around. Large palms settled high on her outer thighs, his fingers resting under the curve of her cheeks. Thick and strong, the tips of his thumbs caressed the front juncture where her thighs met her groin.
"Where—where to?” His tongue followed the fragile outer rim of her ear. She trembled and goosebumps rose along her forearms. Oh ... God ... the man was so good ... His mouth and hands were setting her body ablaze, each touch lighting a firecracker of need that sizzled and popped in her lower body. Her legs trembled as the area between them became an aching throb, growing tight and moist at the same time. If she let him, she knew he would move his thumbs just a little higher and stroke her, making her come right here in her hallway, with her front door wide open. “Nick ... please. Stop, it's too much."
Instantly he released her, raising his palms and backing off, though his eyes remained almost black. Hungry. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to come on so strong.” Worry flashed through his eyes, dimming some of that raw need. “I didn't scare you did I? Because—"
"Hush, Nick. It's alright. I know you won't hurt me.” Morgan reached up and cupped his jaw, stroking his sandpapery chin with her fingertips, showing him she wasn't afraid. Cautiously and while watching her face closely he lowered his hands to rest on her hips again. “You might be big and intimidating sometimes, but I know you're not like him at all. I knew that that day at the barn. And probably, deep down, even before then.” His blue gaze bored into hers and she blushed, dropping her eyes. “But the fact is I've only ... I've never ... only my husband has..."
Nick cut in, “Are you trying to tell me that you've only been with your husband? That you were a virgin when you got married?"
Morgan nodded, “Yes ... and, I'm sure you've already figured it out but my experiences with him weren't.... good. I mean I know I shouldn't feel this way after l-last night—” boy did her cheeks feel like they were going to spontaneously combust—"but its all so new to me. So ... intense.” He opened his mouth but she put her hand up, covering his lips. He pressed a kiss into the center of her palm, making her smile. “I love the way you make me feel, Nick. It's just so new and-and I want you so much it's a little scary."
His hands settled on her waist, then stroked up her back and down again in a soothing motion. She settled against him, then raised her face for his kiss. It was slow, soft, and infinitely tender.
"Come with me, there's a place I want to show you. Then we'll take it as slow and as sweet as you want."
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Chapter 22
Morgan relaxed in Nick's arms and exhaled a contented sigh, watching as the sheets of water poured down to pound the lake's surface below. “Oh Nick ... It's so beautiful ... so peaceful. I can see why you brought me."
They were sitting on a small outcropping of rock about halfway up between the lake and the falls and he had her sideways on his lap, petting her hair and alternating between kissing and cuddling her. His mouth pressed briefly against her temple. “Somehow I knew you would like it."
She flashed him a grin and shivered slightly as a light mist drifted up, coating their skin. “I've never seen a waterfall at night, much less highlighted by a full moon. It's absolutely breathtaking."
"The water in the river above flows from Glacier National Park,” Nick told her. “I used to come here a lot and just sit, thinking. Then I got the barn and the horses and I didn't need to come out here anymore. They were therapeutic enough."
She smiled at him, breathing in the crisp, cool air. “The air is so fresh ... so clean. It was never like this in Chicago. I just wish I had my camera, the falls would be great for my Montana series."
"I can bring you back anytime, just say the word. Is your leg okay?” She nodded but he still looked concerned and shifted her against him so that her bad leg was supported completely on his thigh. His hand lingered, stroking her calf. She shivered, but this one had nothing to do with the coolness of the air. “Mind if I ask how long you lived in Chicago?"
"All of my life."
"Do you still have family there?"
She smiled wistfully, “Yes. I have a cousin, Lisa. She owns the gallery where I show and sell my paintings. She's the only thing I miss about Chicago, but she's also the one who gave me the push to move out here."
Nick flashed a grin, “Remind me to send her some thank you flowers."
Morgan huffed a laugh. “She'd be shocked senseless, and then she'd be on the first plane down here to make sure I hadn't lost my mind. By getting involved again, I mean.” The air was getting chillier and she snuggled deeper against Nick's brawn for warmth, sighing in pleasure. “It feels so wonderful to be able to paint again, it's been years."
"Years?” One black brow shot up almost to his hairline. “If you're good and it's how you make money why did you sto—Never mind. I don't need to ask. I already know.” He hugged her against him, holding her completely and securely. “Are you too cold? Do you want to go back to the truck?” A wash of warmth flooded her. He was always so concerned about the littlest things; like her comfort, how she felt, if her leg was bothering her ... it was so strange, so alien to her. And yet it felt so right.
"No, let's stay for just a little longer. You can tell me how you got into rescuing abused horses."
He shrugged as if it was no big deal but when he spoke his voice was husky and she heard him swallow several times. “I had a h
orse when I was a kid, a big old Appaloosa named Buckshot. I could do anything with that horse, even sit under his belly and read a book. My grandfather gave him to me, but then when my grandfather died my father didn't see a reason for me having a horse and he sold him. Years later I learned that my father hadn't sold him but had given him to a friend of his in order to pay off a gambling debt. The friend gave Buckshot to his kids who didn't know how to take care of him. They left him out in a dirt field one winter with no food and no shelter and he died.” He was looking away from her, focused on the waterfall but his voice had gone flat and Morgan felt the tension in his body. “I hated my father then. Really, truly hated him. We'd had our differences in the past but that was the final blow."
Morgan could clearly picture Nick as a little boy, completely in love with an old horse and then having that love shattered. She stroked the back of his neck soothingly, petting him while her chest tightened with unshed tears. She wished she could take away the pain and knowledge of what had happened to his horse. But the past can never be changed, no matter how much wishing one did.
"I'm sorry Nick."
His heavy shoulders lifted in a shrug and he snuggled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Yeah, well, it was a long time ago.” She heard him swallow, then he sighed heavily. “Anyway ... anger is what brought me into rescuing horses. I used the money that my grandfather left me to buy land and eventually I built the barn. My first rescue horse was Sultan and I've been doing it ever since. I guess I wanted to make up for what happened to Buckshot by making sure other horses didn't have the same fate."
"It wasn't anger, Nick. It was love.” She spoke softly and squeezed the arm he had wrapped around her. “If you didn't love those horses you wouldn't do it."
He was quiet for a long moment. She could almost see him replaying the events in his mind. “I guess it was a mixture of both, although anger helped a whole hell of a lot."
The differences between him and Richard were amazing. Impulsively she leaned forward and nuzzled her nose against his bristly jaw, receiving a surprised, yet pleased, grin in return. He made no move to take advantage of her sudden playfulness, just sat and let her test her new-found confidence, making Morgan even more aware of the reasons she had quickly and easily fallen for him. Richard's likeable smooth-talking businessman exterior had hidden a heartless, black-souled abuser while Nick's big, rough, tattooed don't-mess-with-me appearance probably fooled everyone into thinking he was dangerous.
But Morgan was in on the secret—he had a heart of gold. Instinctively she knew a woman could put her whole trust into Nick Evanoff and he would never use it against her or abuse it. Like tonight, she had spent most of the night sitting in his lap, snuggled against him and he had shown her she was important in so many little ways, probably most of them just instinctual for him ... so unlike Richard who had never been remotely considerate of her feelings or things that mattered to her, much less take her anywhere special like a moonlit waterfall.
A good time for her had been any time she wasn't lying in bed with a new bruise or fractured bone.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?” She looked up, realizing she must have tensed up because his head was tilted down towards her and the intensity with which he was studying her was disconcerting.
"Nothing,” she hedged, “just thinking."
"Want to tell me about it?” When she remained silent he blew out a long breath, his chest flexing against her side. “Do you trust me, Morgan? Have we gotten that far yet?"
"I-oh Nick...” She sighed, sitting up and resting her elbows on her knees. Dropping her head forward she covered her face with her hands, at a loss as how to explain the feelings that bombarded her since meeting him. “If you understood how much of a big deal just being here with you is—and last night ... you would never ask that question again.” She put her hands down and looked at him helplessly, pleadingly. “My husband, Richard, did awful things to me. Physically and ... sexually. When he died I was ... God forgive me, but I was elated. Ecstatic ... overjoyed. The police showing up at my door and giving me the news was honestly one of the best moments in my life, and I swore off all men for the rest of my life thinking that it was the safest route.” A short little laugh escaped her. “But then I moved out here to be away from people and I met you and you make me feel so much ... I'm afraid that it's going to turn wrong, bad somehow."
"All it takes are a few words sweetheart, everything out in the open so I know what demons I'm dealing with."
Demons. She had never thought of her nightmares and memories in such a way. Even demons could be exorcised. Maybe confessing to Nick the darkness that had been her life would finally free her.
She struggled to find an opening. “I don't know really how to tell this ... or how to begin ... but if he hadn't been killed in a car accident over a year ago I would most likely still be married to him right now.” Morgan paused as a sudden chill pulsed through her blood, and then whispered. “Or dead."
"Christ Morgan.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Are you telling me you think he would have—?"
"I have very few doubts.” She stared at him, letting his eyes search hers until he found whatever answer he was looking for, then he released her jaw. “For several months before his wreck I had been getting the feeling that he was, uh, tired of me.” She bit her lip and stared off into space until Nick's gentle nudge brought her back to earth. “It might sound funny, but I suspected it because the beatings were getting less often, but much more aggressive. You have to understand that he enjoyed hurting me; it was his pastime like other men play football or golf. There were also other women; he started to purposefully leave evidence lying around so that I would find out. In the beginning of our marriage he did his best to hide his affairs ... but I always knew. Now it was like he was broadcasting them."
She pressed her face to his chest, letting his warmth and strength seep into her bones while he stroked her hair.
"He-uh...” She fiddled with a lock of her hair, twisting the strand through her fingers, “Richard ... he-he came home one day and accused me of seeing another man. Yeah right, like I would want a man after what he had taught me. I hardly ever left the house. But he went into a screaming rage and pushed me down the basement stairs. That's when I broke my hip. It shattered when I hit the concrete floor. Richard stood at the top of the stairs, a dark silhouette framed in the doorway, and he just stared at me for the longest time. I-I really think he was hoping that I would break my neck and die right then."
Nick dropped his head to rest against the top of hers. She felt his jaw clench against her hair and beneath her his muscles had gone rigid. After what seemed an eternity he finally spoke, his voice low and harsh in her ear. “God I wish I had met that bastard, I'd have killed him long before and run away with you."
Morgan turned towards him and laid her palm against his cheek. “But then you'd be in prison and not here with me."
Morgan felt his whole body stiffen against her and something dark and undecipherable flashed behind his eyes. He looked almost ... guilty. But then, before she could ask what was wrong he stood up and started ushering her towards the truck. “Let's go, you're cold. I can feel the chill-bumps on your skin."
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Chapter 23
He was a selfish, selfish bastard. He'd had the perfect opening for the truth that she so rightly deserved, and his backbone had turned to mush.
But God, he loved her so much that the thought of—
He stopped dead in his tracks, so suddenly that she stumbled against him and he had to grab her to keep her from falling.
Love? Were his feelings for her really that deep? He spun the word around in his mind, tasting it and examining it from all angles. Love. He had never loved a woman before, except his mother, but, yes, he could see himself loving Morgan. She was sweet and caring. So small in stature yet possessed of an inner courage that outsized most people he knew. Even after all that
her husband had put her through she had retained that sweetness and caring, clearly evident each time she looked at one of his abused horses with tears brimming in those big hazel eyes. Hell, from the first moment he had seen her he had wanted to mark her, make it so every other male in the world knew she was his.
"Nick? Is something wrong?” Her soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Love. He loved her. “No, why do you ask?"
"You were frowning at me. Scowling very fiercely, actually."
He tucked her in close to his side, “I guess I was still thinking about what you went through, wishing I could take it all away.” He opened the door and helped her into the truck, but her hand on his arm stopped him from closing the door and the pure yearning in her voice sent shafts of lust straight to his so-far-tonight-well-behaved-cock. So much for that record.
"Nick?” her voice was low, tremulous. Her gold eyes bashful with the hint of sexual awakening. Her skirt had ridden up on her thighs, drawing his eyes like a magnet to the long bare length of her legs.
"What sweetheart?"
Her gaze slid shyly away, her fingers rubbed nervously up and down his arm, driving him crazy. “You can try,” she murmured. “Tonight. You did promise me slow and sweet, remember?"
No man could resist that temptation. Nick ground his jaw, wanting to lunge right into the cab and pull her on top of him and start licking and sucking on whatever part of her he touched first. But the gentleman in him reared his ugly head. Even though the cab of the truck was large it was no place to make love, especially not with her. He might get carried away and inadvertently hurt her leg, or worse, scare her. Plus the area was dark and remote, surrounded by thick woods and wild animals. Not the best ambiance for slow and sweet.
She was sitting there in the truck watching him, waiting for his answer, her face angelic in the blue glow of the moonlight, her hair a long dark veil around her, looking much like the first time he had seen her. The effect was otherworldly, as if God or fate had seen fit to dump this ethereal, wounded woman in his life and give him the chance not to screw up.
