She’d taken them along a few parkways, going from the North Shore of Long Island down to the South Shore. She was originally from the South Shore, and apparently that was a thing. She told him the cool girls were from the South Shore, and that the beaches were better. The North Shore had the Long Island Sound, but the south had the Atlantic Ocean, and did he want to drive along that? Hell yes, he did. She told him where to go, and in a little while they were soaring down the Ocean Parkway.
The landscape was different here, he could tell. The North Shore had been greener, lusher. Here there was lots of brush by the beach, and it wasn’t as green. The car sailed along the asphalt like a dream, and the ocean was visible as they went, so close. They drove for a while with the windows down and the music up, enjoying the power of both the car and the sexual tension that crackled between them.
It was just what he’d needed. It helped him take his mind off what he’d left behind at Charles’s mansion.
Amanda had warned him that Myles looked different, but Nick hadn’t been prepared for what he’d seen today. Myles was hairless now, and the sallow tone of his skin made him sad. But the kid had brightened when he’d seen Nick, which had made his heart do a funny twist in his chest. And his attitude had been as positive as it could be, causing Nick to admire his nephew more than he could express. Nick had brought him gifts—a Miami PD T-shirt and sweatshirt, and a Marlins ball cap just to mess with him. Myles had thanked him and switched out his Yankees cap right away. The sight of his bald head had made Nick’s stomach clench. Nick had helped him adjust it, then asked if he could hug him. When he had, he‘d felt the kid’s bones. He’d breathed him in.
But it was more than all that. It was the thick tension that had been in the air, that palpable worry that had pervaded the house. Nick had felt it the minute he’d set foot in the mansion. Charles and Lisette had been wound up tight. They mostly did a good job of concealing their worry, but he’d seen it in their eyes. He’d seen it in the way Ava shot her mouth off at her father and the way Thomas retreated into the corner with his phone, barely looking up as he curled into a chair. He’d seen it in how clingy little Charlotte had been with both of her parents, much more so than last time.
When the rest of the family had arrived, it’d helped to distract them all from the unease in the atmosphere. Tess, Logan, and their three kids, Pierce and Abby with their two tiny boys . . . the house had filled with sound, a cushion against the dark presence that hung like a veil over everyone. Dane and Julia had shown up last, carrying boxes of cookies and pastries for everyone, which had brought cheers. And every one of them had seemed genuinely glad to see Nick. Each had given him a warm welcome, asked him how his new job was going, all the good things.
But throughout the afternoon Lisette and Charles had taken turns disappearing up to Myles’s room. Neither of them had been willing, or even able, to leave his side for long. Nick had watched them discreetly as they’d trade shifts. Charles would kiss the top of her head or pull her into a hug; Lisette would rub his shoulder or his arm or his back . . . tiny gestures of love, meant to comfort one another.
They were terrified. It had hurt Nick to see it.
“You with me?” Amanda asked.
He shot her a quick glance. “I am. Sorry. I was just thinking about them. The whole family. They’re on edge . . . and I felt for them. I care.” He adjusted his sunglasses, absently ran his fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that bizarre, that I barely know them all, but they mean enough to me that I care?”
“No.” Amanda squeezed his hand. “It’s not bizarre. It’s lovely, really.”
He squeezed her hand back.
She leaned over and turned the volume up a bit, letting the music fill the comfortable silence. The scenery whirred by. . . . Nick got lost in his head again, stuck on the thing that had burrowed under his skin as much as seeing Myles so weakened.
At one point, needing a breather, Nick had wandered into the kitchen looking to grab a beer. A short Latina woman, around his mother’s age, had stood at the stove stirring something in a huge silver pot. Her black hair, threaded with silver, had been pulled back in a ponytail and she’d hummed to herself as she worked.
“That smells amazing,” Nick had said to her. “Whatever it is.”
“Soup for Myles. Chicken, carrots, barley. It’s his favorite.” She’d turned her head, looked him up and down. “You’re the new long-lost brother, aren’t you?”
“I am.” He’d extended a hand. “Nick Martell.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Tina Rodriguez.” She’d shaken his hand and flashed a quick smile. “I’ve worked here forever. I didn’t meet you last time you were here, but I heard about you.” Then she’d added, in Spanish, “Lisette told me how you found out she spoke Spanish. That’s funny as hell.”
It shouldn’t have surprised him, but she’d caught him off guard. He’d laughed and leaned a hip against the counter, switching to Spanish as well. “Ay, you think so, eh? She handed me my head, but with such class. Served me right.”
“Lisette is nothing but class. But I would’ve given anything to see your face when she answered you.” Tina’s eyes had sparkled as she set down the long wooden spoon. “My God, look at you. I can see the resemblance since I know, but . . .” She’d shaken her head in wonder. “It’s really something, when I think about it.”
“What is?”
“That one of us is one of them.” Tina had given a little grin, one of a secret ally. “Blew my mind when I heard that. That Charles’s asshole father had . . . well.” She’d tsked at herself. “I don’t mean to be rude—forgive me. It’s just seeing you in person . . . I’ve known this family a long time. It’s just wild, the whole story.”
Nick had stared at Tina, stopped cold as it hit him. She was a Latina, working in the Harrisons’ kitchen.... That could’ve been his mom thirty years ago. It had stolen his breath. One of us is one of them.
“You’re not here again.” Amanda’s voice burst into his thoughts.
He blinked, glancing at her before looking back out at the road. “Sorry. Just got caught up. . . .” He shook his head.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asked, her voice gentling.
He sighed. “Part of it, you already understand. Part of it . . . you couldn’t possibly understand.”
She rolled up her window so she could hear him better, lowered the volume of the music, then turned to him with a firm but kind gaze. “Try me.”
He told her everything about seeing the family, being with Myles, the pervading worry. Then, after some hesitation, he told her about meeting Tina, and what she’d said that he couldn’t get out of his head. “It just brought up a lot of things.... I don’t know how to explain it. Old demons.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Amanda reached over and took his hand again, her skin soft and warm as she interlaced their fingers. “But if you want to, I’m listening. I’m here.”
Something expanded in his chest at that. He stole a glance at her, caught the genuine friendship and kindness in her eyes.... He felt safe enough to be open with her. “I don’t think a lot about being biracial. Really, I never have. I am who I am. I just live my life, whatever. But once in a while, it comes up. Like today. And I have to admit that, deep down, it’s always felt like . . .” He sighed as he searched for the right words, keeping his eyes on the road, the fading colors of the sky. Her hand was warm in his.
“I have one foot in each world,” he admitted quietly. “I’m just . . . never a hundred percent in one world. You wouldn’t understand, but it’s just . . . sometimes, when I think about it? It just makes me weary. Maybe a little sad, or mad, or something. I don’t know. There’s too much. Neither side of my family ever really clubbed me over the head with it, but there’s been tiny things, subtle things, over the years.... I was aware of it. So I just don’t think about it too long or too hard, but . . .” He shook his head. “Whatever. I don’t like sounding like I’m whining.
Sorry.”
“You’re not whining. You’re talking about your feelings.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not great at that.”
“Gee, I’m so surprised.” Her voice was gently teasing.
He couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, well. Typical guy, I guess.”
“There’s nothing typical about you, Nick.” Her tone changed, warmth infusing her words. “It’s why I was drawn to you in the first place. Don’t sell yourself short with that bullshit. You run deeper than you admit to.”
He loved her straight-talking ways. His fingers involuntarily squeezed hers.
“Why wouldn’t I understand what you said, how you feel?” she said. “You articulated it pretty well.”
He just shook his head. She hadn’t experienced that feeling of displacement, so no matter how well he articulated it, there was a level of distance she’d never get past. He eased the car down the road, focusing on how it curved slightly.
“Tell you what,” she said. “You’re right—I can’t understand what that’s been like. But I can listen, and you can talk to me about it. And I’m not judging you. You weren’t whining, and I’d never think that. I’m here to talk to, to lean on. You can do that with me. Because I care about you.”
Something heavy snaked through his chest and he swallowed hard. Her words struck something deep inside him. It was like he’d been hit by a lightning bolt; he was that shaken to the core. Overwhelmed, he felt warmth flow through him, and he wanted to hold her, pull her into his arms and not let go.
With a sharp turn, Nick pulled over to the side of the road, the tiny little strip for emergencies, and threw the car into park. Her eyes were round; clearly, she wasn’t sure why he’d stopped or what was happening. But he turned to her and said intently, “Thank you. Thanks for that.” He reached up to hold her face with both hands, gazing at her in soft wonder. “I appreciate what you said. You’re great, and . . . I care about you too.”
He pressed his lips to hers in a long, sweet kiss, reverent and adoring.
“I’m getting hungry now,” she said softly. “Let’s go get some dinner. I know a great place right on the beach. We passed it a few miles back. We’ll turn around. Okay?”
He caressed her face, her beautiful face.... He couldn’t stop staring at her. Something forceful surged through him, feelings he couldn’t name, crushing and elating at the same time. He just couldn’t tear his eyes from her, locked there with a gravitational pull. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a few long, charged moments. She reached up to trace her fingertip along his ear, then moved her hand to the back of his neck to play with his hair, her expression neutral except for the soft smile that played at the corners of her mouth. Something he couldn’t label was gnawing at him, restless and straining....
“You’re okay,” she whispered. “Everything is going to be okay.”
The knot in his chest unraveled, a quiet ease replacing it. At a loss for words, he shifted in his seat so he could take her mouth again. The kiss was deep, firm, filled with the passion and emotion he felt inside that he couldn’t put words to. He’d been meant to meet her. Meant to find her. It was a whisper in his head, in his heart.
“I missed you when we were apart,” he whispered against her mouth. “Mi reina. Mi reina bella . . .”
She gave a little shiver and her smile twitched, as if she was pleased to hear his words but didn’t want to admit it. So he kissed her again, threading his fingers through her silky hair as his mouth consumed hers. He wanted to kiss her for hours.... He wanted to curl around her, draw her into him, become one. These feelings were insane, sending him spinning....
But she pulled back, her hands on his face. “Let’s get some dinner,” she said. “The sooner we do, the sooner you can take me to bed and show me just how much you missed me.”
A fresh surge of lusty heat shot through his veins, making his limbs tingle, and he grinned. He drew a deep breath and willfully shook off whatever spell had gripped him. It felt dangerously like attachment, deep connection, or even . . .
No, no, hell no. Falling in love with her? That would be the worst thing he could do. Borderline devastation. He was leaving in a few weeks, and that would be it for them. He knew that in his head. But in his heart . . .
Shit. Get it together, man. Focus! Dinner. Sex. Temporary companionship. That’s all she wants—that’s what you agreed to. Stop swooning. Get your head back in the game.
He cleared his throat, let his eyes linger on her gorgeous face for another few seconds, then took his sunglasses back. “You just tell me where to go.” He threw the car back into drive and got back on the road.
Chapter Nineteen
Amanda was stirred from her sleep by Nick’s low voice murmuring . . . in Spanish. She rolled over and opened her eyes. It was dark in the room, thanks to the blackout curtains, but the thin sliver of light that glowed where the curtains met offered a hint of the bright day outside. Nick sat on the edge of the bed, his muscled back to her, one hand holding his cell phone to his ear.
She shifted beneath the covers, burrowing further into the pillows. Unwilling to be totally awake yet, she watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. The man was intoxicating. He’d clearly taken great pleasure in seducing her when they’d gotten back to his room the night before. He couldn’t keep his hands off her any more than she could him. They’d gone at it like wildfire, then lay in bed talking for a while, never able to stop dropping kisses or caressing each other. The second round of lovemaking had been slow and leisurely, a languorous exploration....
She closed her eyes as she recalled how last night had felt, both the rush of the physical and the depth of the emotional. It hadn’t felt like a hookup between friends, or whatever they were at this point. It had felt like a reunion of lovers.
She was crazy about him. In deep. She knew it. She just hoped he didn’t know it.
When Nick ended the call, his head dropped and he sighed.
She watched him. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease tension, or maybe it was just a fidgety sign of helplessness. Whatever that call had been about, it had upset him a little—that was clear. She sat up and draped herself over his back, pressing her naked breasts against him as she ran her hands along his smooth skin. Her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as she kissed the side of his neck. He felt warm and solid, so good she wanted to purr. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” His hands lifted to cover hers and hold them. “Sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t worry about it. What happened? You seem tense.”
He sighed again, lifted her hands to his mouth to kiss them. “That was the mother of the victim of one of the cases I’ve been working on. She was a wreck.”
“So she calls you this early on a Sunday morning?”
“It happens.” He shrugged, but she could feel the coiled tension in his muscles.
She just held him for a minute, sensing he needed some comfort. “You’re never fully off the clock with this gig, are you?”
“Sometimes it feels that way,” he murmured. “Comes with the territory.”
She knew how that felt. Having a job where you took the work home with you, where it never really left your head . . . she understood. She smoothed her hands over his skin, caressing the firm muscles in his shoulders, his arms, his back. He made a sound of contentment as she did.
“Come back to bed,” she said softly. She kissed his neck, nipped at his earlobe. “I’ll take your mind off it.”
He turned to grin at her, eyes warm. “That sounds promising. . . .”
They cocooned under the blankets. In the darkened room, they held each other and kissed, long, slow, deep kisses that took them out of the moment and into a pleasantly hazy dream state . . . until she pulled away and made her way down his neck and throat, then his chest, her hands everywhere, raining kisses on every inch of him.
“Where you goin’?” His voice was a lazy rumble as she traveled lower, trailing her lips and tongue
along the ridged muscles of his abs. She licked and lightly bit down on his hip bone, and he sucked in a breath.
Lifting her head, she gave him a wicked, wanton smile, then continued moving south. A new rush surged through him, a fresh burst of desire heating his blood. Anticipation made his whole body pulsate and harden. By the time he felt her hair brush his belly and her warm breath on his cock, it was standing up for her, begging for her attention.
She ran her tongue around the head, circling it, flicking at it. He groaned low in his throat and sifted his fingers through her silky hair.
Stretching out, she positioned herself between his legs, running her fingertips up and down his thighs while her breath feathered over him. Taking her sweet time, she explored his lower body with her hands, her lips, her tongue and teeth, a full-out assault on his senses.
His mind clouded with lust and need, he watched her as she took him over. Watched as she grasped the base of his cock, stroking slowly as her tongue ran up and down the shaft. Watched as her tongue darted out to lap up the shiny drop that pearled at the tip before those gorgeous pink lips parted. His hand cradled the back of her head, gentle yet urgent, a silent plea. Finally, when he thought he couldn’t take another second, she took him fully into her warm, wet mouth. His eyes slipped closed, his head fell back, and a low, guttural groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he willingly let her take control of him.
She worked him slowly at first, setting a lazy pace until the friction made his rocking hips thrust, straining upward. They were in sync now; she felt when his lust took on that urgent edge, when his thrusts became more insistent and his hands twisted in her hair . . . and she kept going, in command, owning him. Christ, how she owned him right then. His hands moved over her neck, her shoulders, back to her hair.... His hips rocked desperately, and his breath came in short, hard pants.... It was so good, too damn good.
“Amanda,” he gasped out when he was getting close. “Baby, you should stop or—”
Making a short noise that clearly meant “nope,” she went faster. Unfazed, she hummed as she sucked him, the vibrations against his skin making him growl like an animal. Her mouth and hands worked in tandem, her warmth and wetness and suction and caresses leaving him mindless. His breath caught and again his head fell back onto the pillows as he thrust faster, harder, as the pleasure grew and the sweet tension built.
It Might Be You Page 24