Loving You (31 page)

“Wow.” Nick nodded, sliding one hand up to caress the line of her throat. “Then for his sake, we'd better get going, huh?”

Her eyes closed briefly with his touch. “Yes,” she said, her voice a whisper of longing, “he must be exhausted.
I know I can't wait to go to bed.”

“Right.” Nick smiled, bent down, and gave her a brief, hard kiss. “Right.” Turning, he shouted, “Jonas! Time to go!”

C
HAPTER
18

Two hours later, Tasha was a woman on the edge. Nick was due back at the house any minute and she was doing some serious rethinking.

Mistake, she thought, pacing through the dark, quiet house. Mistake that hadn't happened yet, she reminded herself. She could still chicken out. She could still lock the door and refuse to answer when Nick showed up.

But her heart ached at the thought of
not
being with him. She loved him. “Oh God, how can I love him? I
can't
. He's the enemy, for Pete's sake. Loving him only complicates
everything
.”

But that didn't seem to matter.

Mouth dry, she tried to swallow and couldn't. God, it was like having a mouthful of dust. Something to drink, she told herself, and headed for the kitchen. Barefoot, her steps were soundless against the cold wood floors. She needed that chill, though, to balance the heat bubbling in her veins.

She opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay. Wine. Good idea. She closed the fridge by bumping it with her hip. Then she reached down two wineglasses from a nearby cabinet before heading out to the dining room again.

In the dark, moonlight danced through the room, creating patches of shadows and light. Tasha poured herself a half-glass of the crisp white wine and downed it in a few long swallows. The resulting heat in the pit of her stomach felt good, so she poured herself another, then carried it with her to the window.

She stared up at the black sky, dotted with fast-moving clouds that sailed past clusters of stars like sailboats on an endless sea. Trying to look beyond the stars, she whispered, “Mimi, am I doing the right thing? Is this only going to make things worse?” In the following silence, she could almost hear Mimi.
Relax, Tasha. Enjoy life. Live it so you die with no regrets
.

And maybe Mimi was right. Maybe the way to look at this was that even if Nick disappeared from her life once the DNA test results were in … at least she would have this one night. She would have given her virginity to the man she loved.

Oh God.

She took a sip of wine, concentrating on the smooth taste and letting it soften the rough edges inside. Nerves skittered into life in the pit of her stomach, and Tasha drew one deep breath after another in a vain attempt to ease them. Nothing was going to calm her down. Not while she knew that Nick was on his way here to … Okay, thinking about that was
not
going to help.

Upstairs, Jonas was sound asleep. Tasha smiled to herself. He'd been known to sleep through 6.0 earthquakes, so she knew he wouldn't wake up when Nick arrived. When Nick …
stayed
. Oh God. She took another drink, and warmth swirled in the pit of her stomach. Good. That was good.

Of course, her brain was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, but who needed a brain, right?

Headlights.

“Oh God.” Twin white lights sliced through the blackness. As the car pulled into the driveway, the headlights slashed across the dining room window and she felt like the proverbial deer … “He's here.” She shook her head. “Just who the hell are you warning?” she muttered.

Still clutching her wine, Tasha moved through the shadow-filled house toward the front door. She opened it and stepped onto the porch in time to meet Nick, coming up the front walk. He'd changed clothes. The sport coat was gone, replaced by a dark red sweater over a pair of faded Levi's that made his legs look impossibly long.

She took another sip of wine.

Nick stared up at her from the bottom of the steps, and his throat closed. Hunger roared inside him with the ferocity of storm surf crashing against the shore. In the indistinct moonlight she looked otherworldly. Her flame red hair looked dark in the shadows. She still wore that black skirt and the low-cut black lace blouse. But she'd removed her shoes and black nylons. Barefoot, her skin was creamy, pale in the moonlight, and her ankle bracelet and toe ring reflected the light with tiny winks.

He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Taking the steps slowly, he stopped on the porch, less than an arm's reach from her. “Is he asleep?” he asked, and she heard the tightness in his voice.

“Yeah.”

His gaze dropped to the glass in her hand. “Wine, huh?”

She inhaled sharply. “I was a little…”

“Nervous?”

“Okay.”

He took the glass from her and downed what was left of the wine in one long gulp. “Good.” Then he set the empty glass down on the porch railing and stepped closer to her.

“Nick…”

“Dance with me,” he said, sliding his right arm around her waist while catching her right hand in his left.

“What?” Her breath dusted the base of his neck and its warmth shattered inside him.

He held her close, pressing the length of her body along his. For two hours, he'd been thinking of nothing but throwing her onto a bed and burying himself deep within her. And now that he was here, he wanted to simply hold her. To feel her body along his. To relish the press of her nipples against his chest. To slide his hand up and down her spine. “Dance with me. Here. In the moonlight.”

He moved and she followed, swaying against him even as she said, “There's no music.”

“Oh, there's music,” he assured her. “You just have to listen for it.”

He rested his cheek on top of her head and inhaled the light flowery scent of her. Orange blossoms. She smelled of springtime and promises.

Her steps mirrored his as they moved quietly in the darkness. The old porch creaked beneath them as the soft breeze caught a wind chime somewhere in the yard.

His hand slid down her spine, to the curve of her bottom, and she took a sharp breath. Nick's heart raced and his blood pumped with a fury that nearly choked him with need. But he refused to give in to it. He wanted these moments. These quiet, romantic moments with her in his arms and the silent shadow-filled night all around them.

She'd been driving him crazy for weeks. His dreams were filled with her, his days measured by whether he would see her or not. She was in his brain, his heart, and his soul. Tasha Flynn had broken through his defenses and made herself such a part of him, he couldn't imagine a world without her in it.

Releasing her hand, he wrapped both arms around her, holding her as he moved, cradling her small, curvy body close to him. Her breaths matched to his, her heart beat in time with his. And he knew if he didn't touch her soon, he'd lose what was left of his mind.

She moved her hands up his arms to his shoulders, then encircled his neck. Her fingertips brushed against his neck and he felt the rush of heat from her touch as surely as if she'd branded him.

“I want you,” he whispered, and felt her shiver in his arms. “I need to touch you, Tasha.” As he scooped one hand beneath the hem of her lacy shirt, his fingers slid across her skin like silk across ice.

She sucked in a gulp of air and squirmed in his arms, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she shifted, moving with his touch, turning in to him. Nick smiled to himself as he shifted both hands beneath her blouse, and swayed to music only they could hear. Sliding his hands up between them, he found her breasts, bare beneath the lace, and air rushed from his lungs as he cupped her.

“Oh my.” She sighed and tipped her head back, closing her eyes as she allowed him easier access to her body. His thumbs dusted across her hardened nipples, and her mouth dropped open on a soft moan.

That sigh sliced into him and left him weak. Wanting.

“Oh, Nick,” she whispered brokenly.

“Let me have you,” he said as his fingers and thumbs tweaked the tips of her breasts, teasing, stroking, driving them both to the edge of control.

She moved and his heart clutched. She sighed and his soul shattered. She moaned and a fierce, overpowering urge to claim her rose up in him, strangling him with need.

Tasha couldn't open her eyes. She was surprised she was still standing. Her whole body felt liquid. Her knees wobbled and she locked them as he continued to rock her gently in a slow, circular dance. His hands on her body were warm, strong, and tender. Music played in her head and her heart.

And he was the song. He was everything. His breath dusting her cheeks was a blessing, sweet with the promise of more to come.

His hands dropped from her breasts and she wanted to weep for the loss of them. But in an instant he'd lifted the hem of her blouse higher, baring her flesh to the cool night air. Her eyes flew open. She stared at him as her skin hummed and her insides warred between excitement and embarrassment.

“Nick, people will see and—”

“No one can see us,” he said, a small smile curving his mouth. “It's too dark. We're too far back from the road.”

“But—”

“I want to see you in moonlight,” he said, and she was lost.

He tugged her blouse up and over her head, and before she could feel the cold, he leaned down and claimed her breasts with his mouth.

Heat suffused her. Saturated her. Glowed inside her until she felt radioactive and wouldn't have been shocked to see light streaking from her fingertips. Her stomach flip-flopped wildly, then tightened into a hard knot of expectation.

She looked down and watched as he took her nipples, one after the other, with his lips and tongue. He lavished attention on her, tugging, nipping, licking. She held tightly to him, digging her fingers into his muscled shoulders, wishing she could feel his skin beneath her hands. Embarrassment fled. Nothing mattered but what he was doing to her. What he was making her feel. Then he suckled her and Tasha felt the world tip.

She groaned tightly. “That feels so … good,” she said, her voice harsh, strained with the new feelings sweeping through her. She arched into him, offering herself to him, silently demanding that he give her more, take more.

“So good,” he agreed quietly, the words muffled against her body. Again and again, his mouth worked her nipples, until the fog in her head descended completely, leaving her awash in muted sensation.

When he broke the intimate kiss, Tasha groaned again, this time in dismay. But he only straightened up, dropped one arm around her, and said, “Inside. We have to go inside for the rest, Tasha.”

“Right,” she said, breath staggering in and out of her lungs rapidly, as if she'd been running a marathon. She felt keyed up, every nerve on alert. As if she might
shatter if she moved too quickly. And oh, she didn't want to shatter, yet. She wanted to feel more. Experience “the rest.”

He snatched up her shirt from the chair where he'd tossed it and followed her into the house. Tasha took her blouse from him and held it to her as she walked across the room toward the stairs. He was right behind her. His hurried footsteps matched hers. His breathing was harsh, strained, and she knew he'd been as affected as she. At the top of the stairs, she turned left and walked the length of the landing, to her own room, at the opposite side of the house from Jonas's.

Stepping inside, she let Nick move past her, then she closed the door. He took her blouse and tossed it aside, then pulled off his own sweater and the T-shirt beneath it. Moving closer, he drew her up against him, and the warmth of flesh to flesh speared through her, stealing her breath again. Her hands moved over his broad back, loving the feel of his skin beneath her palms. He shuddered at her touch and Tasha smiled to herself, enjoying the rush of sexual power inside her.

“I need to have you, Tasha. Now.”

She pulled her head back and looked up at him. In the indistinct light, his dark eyes flashed and she trembled. “I need that, too, Nick. I need
you
. I didn't want to. But I do.”

He nodded, his gaze moving over her, lingering on her breasts before lifting to meet her eyes again. “From that first day, I knew we were headed here.”

“From that first day,” she agreed. It had been inevitable. The sizzling attraction between them had been leading them here. To this moment. To this familiar room where moonlight shone like the path to heaven.

He cupped her face in his palms and bent his head
to kiss her. His mouth took hers, his tongue sweeping inside, stealing what was left of her breath and giving her his. She took it, claimed it, and then gave it back.

Her mind drifted, shut down, and her senses took over. His hands were everywhere at once. Her skin was on fire. And she didn't care. All she wanted was to feel. To have him show her everything she'd ever dreamed of. To have Nick inside her.

He walked her toward the bed and, leaning down, grabbed hold of the quilt and tossed it to the foot of the mattress. Then he bent her backward, laying her down on the clean, fresh sheets and joining her there. His right hand swept down the length of her body and beneath the hem of her skirt. Up, up, his fingertips slid along her thigh, then drifted to the inside, higher, higher, until he reached the thin silk barrier of her panties.

He actually growled and rolled her onto her back. Levering himself up on one elbow, he looked down into her eyes and said, “These have gotta go.”

She inhaled sharply. “You bet.”

He grinned at her, then kissed her hard, before shifting his mouth to her chin, her neck, and down the line of her throat. Slowly, he slid along her body, like a river of fire. His mouth trailed kisses across her flesh, and she burned, flames licking at her skin. He paused at her breasts, long enough to taste her nipples before moving again, down her rib cage, across her stomach, to the waistband of her skirt.