by Joleen James
A whirlwind of emotions swept through Nick with the force of a tornado. Regret for the time he missed with Clea and John, mixed with an overwhelming love for them. Because of the love he felt for Clea, a baby had been born. His son. Their child. In this instant he knew he would never let anyone or anything take them away from him again.
"It's the most beautiful picture I've ever seen," he said, wishing he'd been there to witness the special closeness in person. "You've given me a gift."
Her smile widened. "I wanted to give you John's childhood. I took these pictures for you, Nick. I made a mistake when I returned your letters. I shut you out of John's life. You'll never know how much I regret that now."
The unfamiliar sting of tears touched his eyes. He couldn't remember a time when he'd cried, not when he'd gone to prison, not when Maude had died. His heart swelled with unchecked love for Clea and for his son. Never would he have imagined that she'd even thought of him while he'd been in prison. And to find out she'd not only thought of him, but had photographed a history of their son's childhood for him. His heart soared.
"There are more," she said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. She showed him pictures of John's first steps, of his first day of school, of his sixth birthday party. Nick reveled in the photographs, committing them to memory. The photos were more than just images committed to paper, each picture captured a moment of history, of a life he'd missed. Clea had given him those moments back. He could see the love she felt for John with each picture she'd taken. She had a remarkable talent she couldn't waste here in Port Bliss.
"I can see why you won the internship," Nick said with awe. "Why don't you have these displayed?"
She shook her head. "I couldn't. It hurt to look at them with you gone."
"Clea."
"The pictures are so personal, so private." She gave him a small smile. "You're the only one I wanted to share them with."
He reached for her, taking her face in his hands, her skin smooth under his rough fingers. While in prison he'd tried to remember the way she felt, the way she tasted, but nothing he'd imagined prepared him for the reality of Clea in the flesh. She felt a million times softer, smelled a million times better. The scent of watermelon tempted his nose as he lowered his mouth to hers. He didn't kiss her, but kept his mouth a fraction away, savoring her, anticipating the kiss. Her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, her breath soft and sweet between them. With a feather touch he moved his mouth across hers, the motion a tease of the kiss to come.
"Kiss me, Nick," she pleaded. "If you don't kiss me soon, I'll die."
Her words fanned his desire, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Lips as sweet as summer fruit met his, bringing to life the spark of desire low in his belly. Nick took her mouth, doing all the things he'd dreamed of while in prison. In his fantasies, he'd made love to her in every way imaginable. He'd forgotten the heat of her mouth and how wild it made him. He sucked her tongue, then mated with it, savoring the texture, the taste of her, deepening the kiss until she moaned low in her throat. She pressed her body to his, her hands in his hair, her breasts flattened against his chest, the mounds burning into him. He couldn't get enough of her, needed more, wanted more.
Together they fell back onto the carpet until his body covered hers. "You belong to me," he whispered against her lips. "Only to me." His fingers slid into her hair, still damp, but feather soft against his skin.
"I do belong to you, Nick. I've never stopped wanting you."
Her words blazed through him, his erection straining against his jeans. He wanted to be inside her, feel her hot and wet around him. "I want you naked, Princess. Now."
Desire filled her green eyes, making them shine with promise.
Nick rolled from her and pulled Clea to a sitting position. With frantic fingers they removed each other's clothing, until nothing separated them but air. Nick yanked his wallet from his pants pocket and removed a condom. There would be no unplanned pregnancy this time.
"You'll have to help me," he said, his hands shaking. "I don't think I can get the damn thing open. God knows, I haven't had much practice using one, but this time I want you protected."
Clea gave him a seductive smile and took the package from his fingers. "I'm not an expert either, but…" She tore the wrapper open. "I think it goes like this."
Nick shut his eyes as she placed the condom on him, rolling the protection down. By the time she finished, he was having trouble holding onto what little self-control he had left. She ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders.
"Do you want to move to the bedroom?" he asked, thinking of her comfort.
"No." She held her arms out to him.
Slowly, so slowly, he lowered Clea down to the carpet.
"You're so beautiful." He touched her nipple with the back of his hand. Her breasts were round and fuller than he remembered, the nipples pink and sweet.
She reached for him, guiding his mouth to her breast. Nick licked her nipple, the swollen nub sending a shock wave of pleasure through him. If he was dreaming he didn't want to wake up.
"Oh, Nick," she moaned, her fingers twisting in his hair.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the tip, sucking, then rolling again, until she cried out, arching her back. Gently, he trailed his hand over her smooth stomach, threading his fingers through her triangle of honey curls. The softness fed his desire. When his fingers slipped inside of her, the slick wetness closing around him, he had to grit his teeth, so great was the rush of pure lust that shot through him.
"I want to touch you," she said, her hand closing around his most male part. Her voice was husky with desire, desire he'd put there. Again, lust jolted him, taking him closer to the edge.
"It's been too long for me," he whispered, knowing he couldn't hang on much longer. He couldn't remember if she'd climaxed the last time they'd been together, but he was sure as hell going to make sure she did this time.
His fingers moved inside her, urging her toward release. Clea moved against him, her cries of pleasure filling the air. For every movement he made, she stroked him with equal fever.
"You feel so good," Nick whispered against her breast, his tongue making a lazy circle around her nipple. "You can't imagine how many times I've made love to you in my mind, but it never felt like this."
"Oh, Nick," she cried. "Oh." Her back arched, her fingers tightening around him as she found release.
Nick didn't wait a moment longer. Her legs parted and he moved between them, looking deep into her eyes. Clea locked her legs around his waist, and he dove into her. A low moan escaped her lips and he wondered if he'd hurt her, but when he saw her face, lips parted, eyes closed, he knew the sound signaled her desire. Slowly, he pulled out, the pleasure almost more than he could bear.
Clea's hands found his hips. She pulled him back to her, urging him to continue with her hands. And he did. With each thrust his need to possess her completely increased. Nothing had ever felt this good: her skin against his, her hair, her taste. A roar filled his ears, a pulsing he couldn't control. Her nails dug into his back and he knew she was slipping over the edge again. This time he went with her.
Powerful waves of pleasure crashed through him, one on top of the other, until he couldn't think, only feel. When he finally opened his eyes, he found Clea watching him. She smoothed the hair from his eyes, a satisfied smile on her face.
"You okay?" he asked, knowing he'd taken her like a man possessed, and maybe he had been. He'd wanted to make her his, and he had. The thought pleased him.
"I'm better than okay." Her smile widened. "I don't remember sex being quite that intense the last time we were together. I didn't know I could feel so much."
Nick grinned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this satisfied or optimistic. "The night is young, Princess." He kissed her. "And we have ten years to make up for."
* * *
Clea came awake slowly, and before she opened her ey
es she smiled. Sometime during the night they'd moved to her bed. Without looking, she knew Nick slept beside her. His scent, a mix of clean soap and sex, filled her head. Heat radiated from his skin, warming her. She didn't want to move, didn't want to come back to reality. Last night, Nick had made her his, again and again. His passion had consumed her to the point where she could think of nothing but him. After so many years of missing him, thinking about him, she'd wanted to do all the things to him she'd dreamed about, and she'd managed to knock quite a few of those things off her list.
"Why are you smiling?"
Clea opened her eyes. "I thought you were asleep. How long have you been watching me?"
"For a while." He reached over and wound a curl around his finger. "Why are you smiling?"
"Why do you think?" She smiled again. Last night had been the stuff of dreams.
"How much time do we have before reality intrudes?" He gathered her close, until their bodies touched everywhere.
"Enough." She ran her fingers over Nick's cheek, then kissed him. "I don't want to think about being a parent yet, or about going to work. Right now I just want to feel like your lover."
Nick gave a low growl, rolling to his back, pulling her on top of him until she straddled his body. "What did you have in mind?" His hands found her waist, moving lower to cup her bottom.
"This." She leaned forward to lick his nipple. "And this." Her tongue found its way to Nick's other nipple. "You're not the only one with fantasies."
"I think you're a naughty girl." Nick grinned.
"That's what people say," Clea said, returning his grin. He was so handsome. His blue eyes blazed with desire. And his mouth, just looking at him, naked and in her bed, gave her a sexual meltdown. "And imagine what they'd say if they found out I did this." She took a condom from the bedside table, making quick work of getting the protection in place. There was no denying Nick wanted her, the evidence of his desire felt hard and smooth under her fingers.
Clea lifted herself up, then sank down on him, taking his length into her. She moved against him, and Nick closed his eyes, his face taut with pleasure. Clea moved, up, down, around, fueling her own desire, using Nick to bring her pleasure in a way she never dreamed possible. He felt so good, and if she moved just right, sparks of pleasure exploded within her.
A moan left Nick's lips. Clea leaned forward and kissed his mouth without breaking the rhythm between them.
She wanted to please him, to make him as crazy for her as she was for him. Clea rode him. His face told her everything. She could see his pleasure rising with the creasing of his brow, the arch of his neck against the pillow, the parting of his lips as he moved with her, his hands clutching her hips. Watching him was as powerful an aphrodisiac as being touched by him.
Suddenly, his eyes opened and she was startled by the sexual prowess she saw there. He sat up, their faces so close together she could feel his breath against her lips.
"I want to watch you," he whispered, the words husky with need. "Look at me."
Clea's hands found his shoulders and she held on as he moved her against him faster and faster, his gaze locked with hers. On the brink of climax, she closed her eyes.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She did. As she found her release, he found his, and she could see his pleasure in his eyes because it mirrored her own. Her soul melded to his and an incredible feeling of peace came over her, making her want to cry with happiness, the experience so powerful it left her breathless.
Chapter Seventeen
"Tell me about the night Danny was killed," Clea asked.
Nick propped himself up on one elbow. He'd just made love to her for the second time that morning. Soon, reality would crash in around them. He wanted to use the time they had left to savor Clea, enjoy her.
The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Danny Bloomfield.
He'd been dreading this conversation. After last night he knew he couldn't lie to her anymore. He owed her the truth, but at what cost to Billy?
Clea lay beside him on her back, her head turned to the side against the pillow to look up at him. Earlier, she'd brushed her hair, trying to restore order, but she'd failed. Soft golden curls spilled across the pillow and over her shoulders. Anyone who saw her now would guess what she'd been up to all night, and it pleased him to no end to know he was responsible for the serene smile on her face.
"I don't want to talk about that now," Nick said. "In fact, I don't want to talk at all." He smiled and reached over to brush the curls from her forehead.
"I need to talk about it, Nick." She captured his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. "I was shut out of the whole thing. One minute we were making love, the next you were arrested."
He glanced away from her. The truth would set him free, but the truth would harm his brother. A deep loyalty for both Clea and Billy warred inside him. No matter which path he took, someone would come out the loser.
"Tell me, Nick," she said again. "I want to understand."
"You know what happened." He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
"Was there really a gun, like you said at the trial? Was it self-defense?"
"Yes," he confirmed, telling her the one thing he was certain of. Their relationship was new and fragile. He didn't want anything to crack their newfound closeness, and telling her the truth was sure to do just that. He wanted to tell her, but not now when everything felt right between them.
"But no gun was ever found. How do you explain that?" Her eyes held a thousand questions.
"I don't know. I can't. I've had a lot of time to think, and I can only come to one conclusion. Someone else was there that night, someone who wanted me to go to jail for murder. There's only one person I can think of who hated me that much."
"No, Nick." Clea shook her head, and he could see the understanding in her eyes. "Not Robert. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? Why would he do that? Danny was his brother. That would mean Robert took the gun, and then left Danny there alone. He wouldn't do that. No matter how much he hated you, he would never leave his brother alone to die. Besides, he had an alibi. His mother confirmed Robert had been home asleep."
"Robert wanted you," Nick said. "He saw a way to get me out of the picture. I can't prove it, but I know he took the gun."
"But that would mean his mother lied." Clea struggled to understand all he'd told her. "Why would she do that?"
"Maybe she believed he was home," Nick said. "Or maybe she knew Robert had something to do with Danny's death, but she couldn't bear the thought of losing him, too. Where do you suppose the gun came from? My guess is it belonged to the senator. He claimed no guns were missing, but I'm not convinced. I'm not sure about anything anymore."
"Oh, Nick." Her fingers grazed his jaw, her touch tender.
"If the gun had been found, my sentence would have been much lighter, or I may not have gone to prison at all. It was self-defense."
His gut tightened to an ache born of fear. He let go of her hand and rolled on his side, their faces just inches apart. He could no longer put off telling her. If he wanted to keep Clea, he had to come clean, tell her all of it, and pray she'd understand why he'd made the choices he had.
"Tell me what happened," Clea said. "Please."
Compassion filled her eyes, but would the emotion harden to hatred when she knew the truth? It was a chance Nick had to take if they were going to have a future together.
"I'm not sure exactly why things happened the way they did that night," he said. "After I took you home, I picked up Billy. He'd been over at that girl's house, you know, what was her name?"
"Mary," Clea supplied. "I remember. She lived near my house."
"Yeah, Mary." Nick had thought about that twist of fate many times. If he hadn't picked up Billy that night, would Danny be dead now? There were so many ifs - and no way of knowing how things would have turned out. "We hadn't gone far, when Danny's car came up behind us. He bumped the back of The Boss. Lookout Poin
t was just ahead. I pulled over, and he followed. The confrontation between us was a long time coming."
"I know." Clea's fingers tightened around his. "They were brutal to you, to us. They taunted you about the lakeside robberies all summer, trying to blame you. It was as if they wanted the entire town to hate you as much as they did."
He'd never given a lot of thought to how Clea had seen things that summer. Had she been as harassed as he had?
"When I broke my engagement to Robert," Clea said, "he said something that bothered me. He said he'd seen us together at Lookout Point. Could that have had something to do with the irrational way Danny behaved?"
"Maybe," Nick said. Robert Bloomfield had an obsession with Clea she still didn't understand, even after all this time. "I've had a lot of time to think about the choices I made that night. Some of the choices I regret, others I don't."
A flicker of surprise crossed Clea's features. "What kind of choices?"
He frowned. "For the most part it happened like I said. Danny forced my car off the road. He got out of his car. I got out of mine. I didn't realize until it was too late that he had a gun. He held it on me, talking crazy, saying he'd had enough of me, that I didn't deserve to be born. I knew he was drunk, and that's what scared me. Danny Bloomfield was a mean drunk. I'd seen him that way more than once, and I know you have, too."
Clea nodded. "But where was Billy?"
Nick braced himself for Clea's reaction to the news he was about to give her. "Billy didn't get out of the car right away. I don't think Danny realized Billy was with me. I had a bat in the car."
Nick broke off, reliving the moment. Over the years he'd had so many nightmares about that night, about seeing Danny fall, seeing the blood. Images like that didn't erase, not even with time.