“I need to touch you,” he said between kisses.
“Yes,” she pleaded.
He took her in another sensual kiss, pushing his hand beneath her shirt, over her stomach. She quivered beneath his touch. It had been so long since he’d touched a woman, he was shaking a little, too. He traced her lower lip with his tongue, teasing her until she was bowing off the bench. She was so fucking sexy his cock throbbed behind his zipper. He tore her shirt up again, taking her breast into his mouth and sucking so hard she cried out. He moved higher, cupping her jaw, and brushed his thumb over her lips. Her tongue slicked over the tip, making him ache to see her mouth wrapped around his cock.
“Tell me you’re with me, Tempe, or tell me to stop. I need to hear it from you.”
FROM THE LOOK of lust in Nash’s eyes to the heady need in his voice, his raw sensuality electrified her. She pressed a kiss to his thumb, wishing she were brazen enough to suck it and send the green-light signals other girls doled out like smiles. But she wasn’t bold enough to do something so visibly naughty. Instead, she gathered what courage she could, took his hand, and guided it beneath the waist of her pajama pants.
“I’m right here with you,” she assured him.
Her breathing shallowed as his thick fingers moved beneath her belly button, and along the edge of her panties. The heat of his hand was intoxicating. Her hips rose, urging him lower, to finally touch the part of her that had been aching for him. His hand moved south, and his eyes smoldered as his mouth covered hers, kissing her slow and sweet. His fingers slid up and down along the crease between her sex and her thigh, brushing the side of her sex, making her wetter, more needy, with each stroke. She focused on the feel of his lips against hers, his tongue thrusting deeper as his hand moved beneath her panties. His fingers moved up and down, up and down, in a dizzying pattern as he opened his mouth wider, claiming more of hers. He thrust his fingers inside her, and a low moan traveled up from her lungs, escaping into his mouth. He delved deeper with both his tongue and fingers, quickening his pace and hitting all her magical spots.
“There. God, there,” she begged, feeling him smile against her lips.
Each time his fingers pushed in, an electric current pulsed through her, and at the same time, he kissed her harder, possessing all of her at once and creating an erotic rhythm. Her thoughts spiraled out of control, unstoppable pleas spewing from her lips—“More. So good. Yes.”
When he brushed his whiskers over her cheek and said, “I want to feel you come,” the guttural sound of his voice and the naughtiness of his words shattered her last shred of control. She grabbed his head, crashing her mouth to his, her body a trembling, pulsing mess as he took her up to the edge of sanity. His cock rubbed and ground against her thigh as his fingers moved in and out between her legs, sparking involuntary tremors in her thighs that traveled to her sex, growing stronger, pulsing tighter as she neared the peak. Her senses reeled, overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, his taste. She gave herself over to the inferno that had been mounting for days. Fire spread through her limbs, consumed her chest. Cries of ecstasy poured from her lungs, but he didn’t relent. He continued his pursuit of her pleasure, eating at her mouth as he fucked her with his fingers, holding her at her peak so long she thought she might explode. Heat rippled beneath her skin with each pulse of her climax. Her body shook and shivered as she rode the crescendo of their passion. He kissed her softer, pressing his lips to the corners of her mouth, along her lower lip, stroking her slowly between her legs as she came back down from the clouds. Warmth spread over her, enveloping her in a blissful feeling. When he withdrew his fingers, she heard herself whimper.
He brought his slick fingers to his mouth and dragged his tongue along the length of them, a wicked smile forming as he sucked them clean. She’d never seen anyone do that before, and her body electrified anew, with much more than sexual desire. She wanted whatever that was. Dark pleasures? Erotic pleasures? She didn’t know. She only knew it was naughty and sexy and so exciting she could hardly wait to see him do it again.
“Ohmygosh,” slipped out before she could stop it.
He chuckled. “Too dirty?”
“No. I like it. I’ve just never…I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” She whispered, “I like it.”
He kissed her again, long and slow and oh so delicious.
“My sweet, sweet angel, you unleashed years of pent-up sexuality. I have a feeling you might need to tame me.”
Reveling in his endearment, she said, “No. No taming, please.” Feeling bold, she reached between his legs, taking in the full girth of his arousal. “That’s big enough to share. But I’m really not into sharing.”
He chuckled and moved her hand to his hip, kissing her again. She tasted herself on his tongue, and when he deepened the kiss, his whiskers prickling her cheeks, sparks flamed inside her again. She ground her hips against his arousal, and he laced their hands together.
“Soon,” he promised, and held her tight. “I wanted to talk to you before we even went this far, to let you into my world. But your kisses consume me.”
“How could I be any more in your world? I live here,” she pointed out.
After another languid kiss, during which she may have sighed dreamily, he said, “You are. But what happened that afternoon in the barn? That wasn’t okay.”
A look of grief came over him, and she remembered how troubled he’d looked when she’d found him in the hall.
“You already apologized for that,” she reminded him.
“I know.” He brushed her hair from her shoulder and pressed a kiss there. “But I didn’t explain why I was upset. I think we should sit up for this.” He pushed up to a sitting position.
She sat sideways on the bench, giving him her full attention. He lifted eyes so troubled, she reached out and stroked his arm to comfort him.
“Whatever it is,” she said, “I hope I can help.”
“You already have.” His lips twitched, as if he might smile, but they never made it. He reached for her hand, absently caressing her fingers between his.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to lay it out there.” He looked out over the yard, his jaw clenching tight. After a long moment, he let out a breath and met her gaze. “The reason my parents took me out of school and we traveled for two years was because…” His voice cracked, and his eyes darted away again. He blinked several times. “I had a brother, and he was killed when he was a senior in high school.”
“Oh, Nash.” She moved closer, remembering what he’d said about his childhood. It was just me and my parents…We were close. “I’m so sorry.”
He stared out over the deck, blinking against tears. “He was my idol, you know? My best friend, and at times,” he said with the hint of a smile, “my worst enemy.” He half laughed, half scoffed, still blinking against damp eyes. “He was um…It was after the last baseball game of the year. He pitched. They won.”
She moved so close she was practically in his lap, fighting her own tears.
“PJ was everything I wasn’t. He was popular, into sports, and so sure of himself. He wanted to play for the Nationals.”
“Your hat,” she said softly.
He nodded. “His hat. He was being scouted for the major league free-agent amateur draft. We all knew he’d make it. He gave me the hat he’d worn every day for eight years after that game, and the asshole got himself killed later that night.” A tear slipped down his cheek. He swiped at it, and she touched his hand, gently moving it away from his face, and kissed the wetness away.
“It’s okay to cry.” She wiped her own tears, wishing she could take his pain away.
He took her hands in his and held on tight. “Oh, I cried. Tears of fucking anger. He wasn’t who I thought he was. He’d gone out celebrating their win with a buddy from the team and his cousins, who were in from out of town, and they robbed a goddamn convenience store two towns away. He had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Our family was
n’t rich, but we had enough money. He had a future. He was nothing like the person I thought he was. It was all a fucking lie.” He released her hand, curling his into fists.
“You never knew he was hanging out with a bad crowd?” she asked.
The deadpan look he gave her nearly stopped her heart.
“Hanging out with?” he scoffed. “He was driving the getaway car. The police chased them for seven miles before he took a turn too tight and rolled the fucking thing. He died instantly. The other three guys were all messed up. I lived with the guy for fifteen years. How the hell did I miss that he was a thief?”
“Nash.” She didn’t even know what she wanted to say, but she felt the need to say something. He looked so mad, so sad. So broken.
He shook his head. “Don’t. Please don’t try to tell me that I shouldn’t judge him. You can’t imagine what it’s like.”
“No. I can’t, you’re right.”
“Neither could we,” he said harshly. “Everything changed that night. The police showed up at the door, and I went ballistic. I didn’t believe them, and when I look back now, I realize how crazed I was. But that night?” He turned away again. “That night I wanted to kill the motherfucker. It didn’t matter that he was just the bearer of the most horrible news we’d ever heard. All that mattered was what he said. I hated the police officer almost as much as I hated my brother.”
“No, Nash.” Tears tumbled down her cheeks for his pain, his loss, and the anger he still carried. “You can’t take all your years together, all the good things that made you look up to him, and throw it away like it wasn’t real. You have to hold on to the person you knew him to be. He wasn’t a thief to you; you just said as much.”
He pushed to his feet and paced. “He wasn’t who I thought he was, Tempe. Not by a long shot. And it wasn’t just me. We went from being a family of four to a family of three and a ghost. PJ was everywhere. Memories bombarded me every single day, and I analyzed every goddamn one of them, looking for clues that he was a thief. I know it was even harder for my parents. I swear, in the days after his death, my parents put up walls so thick even their best friends couldn’t get through. They didn’t take phone calls, didn’t answer the door. They had him cremated, buried his ashes with only the three of us there, packed up our shit, sold the house, and went out on the boat.”
“Your family ran,” she said. “I can’t imagine leaving all those memories behind.”
“You mean all those lies. You have no idea what it was like. Your brothers call and check on you; they go to work and have significant others they love. They’re living their truths. PJ’s life was a lie, Tempest. And my parents made damn sure that we left all his lies behind. And you know what the suckiest part was? They pretended he never existed, and at first I didn’t get it, because…Fuck.” He turned away, hands fisted. “I wanted to talk about him. I needed to talk about him. But they couldn’t. Wouldn’t. When I tried, my father told me I was upsetting my mother, and she’d cry for days. My family died right along with him, and I had to learn to move on with his ghost by my side. To this day my mother clams up if I mention his name.”
He faced her again, his lips pressed into an unforgiving line. “I’m pretty sure that’s why she doesn’t see Phillip. I think seeing him stirs too many painful memories for her. PJ’s name was Phillip John.” Fresh tears welled in his eyes. “I had to honor him, despite it all.” He breathed heavily. “I loved him so damn much.”
“Oh, Nash.” Unable to give him the space he was trying desperately to keep between them, she embraced him. He was so tightly wound, his arms hung stiffly by his sides, but she held on tight, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he said sharply. “I know that makes me no better than him.”
She drew back, saddened by the anger in his eyes. “Nash, I understand why you didn’t tell me the truth. You didn’t even know me.”
“No.” He pushed from her arms, shaking his head. “It’s not okay. None of this is okay. I can’t even bring myself to tell my own son about my brother. How fucked up is that?” He sank down to the bench.
She sat beside him, grasping for the right thing to say. “You’ve carried this around for all these years? Didn’t your parents try to help at all? Or get you a therapist to talk to when you got back from your trip?”
He sat back, his head resting on the railing, and stared up at the sky for a long, silent moment. Exhaling a long breath, he sat up and squared his shoulders in a practiced move.
“Once we left Oak Rivers, we never went back. After the trip, we rented a house in Charlottesville. We were three people who were once a family and had become strangers living in a painfully silent house. I couldn’t take it. I packed up my stuff, grabbed my guitar, and hit the road. I didn’t even know where I was going. I met this artist in Pennsylvania who needed an assistant to do his grunt work, and within a few weeks he taught me to do chainsaw sculptures. Within six months we were selling more of my work than his.” He looked at his hands. “It was like my hands were made to do that work. After a few months I took off on my own. I called home every few weeks, and we’d talk for a few minutes. My father taught at the university, but his health deteriorated fast.”
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like when you were at sea, and then losing your father so quickly.” She tried to wrap her head around how much he’d lost.
“We went days, weeks, without communicating. My father buried himself in books, and my mother painted.”
“And you?” She reached for his hand, and when he didn’t take it, she laced their fingers together and curled her fingers around his.
“I wrote songs, played my guitar, studied. But mostly, I tried to escape it all—the pain, the memories.” He met her gaze, fresh tears wetting his eyes. “Basically, we buried my brother, and then I had to learn to bury everything else deep enough that I could move on.”
“So you never got any real closure?”
He shrugged, as if that didn’t matter.
“Nash, how can you move on if you haven’t had a chance to mourn your brother? You never talked about him? You’ve never gone back to visit his grave or make peace with your loss? Regardless of what secrets he had, the years you shared are important. They shaped your life. They shaped who you are, and you’re an amazing man.”
He shook his head, as if he didn’t believe her. “I spent two years mourning him,” he said halfheartedly.
“It doesn’t sound like it. It sounds like you spent two years repressing your feelings about him.” She wrapped her arms around him again, pressing her cheek to his chest and feeling the panicked beat of his heart. She held him until the tension in his body eased, until his breathing slowed. “How can you mourn a person you can’t talk about?”
His arms came around her and he said, “I’m talking about him now.”
Chapter Twelve
TEMPEST COULD PRACTICALLY hear the clicking of gears in Nash’s head as he pondered her offer to take Phillip with her to her children’s class at the community center. They were in the barn talking while Phillip played with his toys in the grass just outside the doors. It was Thursday afternoon, three days since he’d begun telling her about PJ. He’d been sharing more details about his family, and his feelings, every day, and it had brought them even closer together. She thought having a window of opportunity without Phillip to worry about might do him a world of good.
“He’s never gone anywhere without me,” Nash finally said.
She knew this, of course. The two were attached at the hip. “But you’ve seen him with me. He trusts me, Nash.” Earlier that morning, while Nash showered, she and Phillip had made silver-dollar pancakes—counting each one—and had surprised Nash with breakfast. Phillip was coming out of his shell more and more each day. “Being around the other kids will be good for him, especially if you’re really thinking about signing Phillip up for an observation day at preschool. It would be like practice, an
d it would give you a few hours to get some work done without a three-year-old underfoot.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I called the preschool and set up an observation day for next week.”
“Wow. That’s wonderful.” She hadn’t realized he’d come so far in his decision. But she knew letting Phillip go with her was hard for him to consider, and she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him.
They hadn’t gone any further than they had the night on the deck, but she wanted to. Every magical kiss made her want more. But they were sharing so many other intimate parts of themselves, the speed with which they were moving felt right. Each night they kissed and talked for hours as Nash unburdened himself of the secrets he’d been holding on to for so long. The more he shared about what his life was like before—and after—they lost PJ, the more he wanted to hear about Tempest’s family, too. They shared private moments and memories, pieces of their lives that had formed their personalities and values and stories about the people they loved most. Each night Tempest went to bed breathless and wanting the man who was just as careful as she was, but they were building a solid foundation, and there was no rushing where that was concerned.
“I don’t mind having Phillip here while I work,” he said.
“I know. You’re a wonderful daddy, but you’re also a single, working father, and you need independence as much as he does. Maybe you can get a little work done on those sculptures that are waiting in your locked shop.” She smiled, and the tension around his mouth eased. “Letting him go to a class with me doesn’t mean you’re being selfish or letting him down. You’re giving him a chance to succeed on his own, and you know I’ll watch him every second. I would never let anything happen to him.”
“I trust you, angel. You know that.” He circled her waist with his arms, and his eyes drifted over her shoulder at Phillip. “I just…What if he has a hard time?”
“That’s what cell phones are for. I will be there to help him if he needs anything at all. You’ve seen me with him. You trust me, right?”
Whisper of Love (The Bradens at Peaceful Harbor, Book Five) Page 15