by Snow, Nicole
I will have Reese Halle under me very soon.
She drifts off again in my arms just before the soft sunlight reaches us. I pick her up, carry her inside, and lay her down in her original guest bed with Millie, who’s still blissfully passed out.
If I’m lucky, I’ll catch a few hours of shut-eye before I start my day.
Reese sleeps peacefully, those lips I’m still hurting to ignite twitching gently.
If every morning started like this, with her next to me, looking like the dream she is now, I’d give up my dream in my head.
I’d give up so much for this woman—for them—it fucking scares me.
19
Gone With The Rain (Reese)
My heart beats overtime as I wait for Nick to exit Brandt Dreams so we can pick up Millie and head home to his penthouse.
Home? Am I really calling it that?
Of course, it’s where we’re staying until we figure out what Will wants and there’s no danger, and I’ve been there for several days, buuut...
I catch my wide-eyed reflection in the mirror and forget to breathe.
I’m falling so fast and so hard it’s dizzying.
My worries vanish the instant I see him approaching. He’s early. I thought it would’ve taken him at least another hour in there.
Nick stalks through the rain, a militant stride in every step on his long, powerful legs.
He doesn’t head for the back door. He climbs right in the passenger seat and takes my hand.
“You should still sit in the back when we’re on the clock,” I say, trying not to smile. “You know, so we can keep up appearances.”
“Darling, do you remember how you kissed me this morning? Before we left the apartment?”
“Um. Maybe.” My breath stalls.
Like I could ever forget.
He only set my everything on fire from head to toe. Just having my hand in his reminds me of the sizzle, the muscle memory of how his tongue rakes mine.
“I couldn’t get it out of my head,” he growls. “That’s why I’m not sitting in the back anymore. Let them talk.”
My heart dives and comes back up again. I want to yell at him, to remind him we don’t need more problems, but when I see his emerald eyes and that smirk haloed by dark scruff that feels so decadent on my skin...
I’m all out of prayers.
“Are you in a hurry to pick Millie up tonight?” he asks, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it.
“Not really. What do you need?”
“I wanted to show you a park. It’s a little ways outside the city. If you’re in a hurry, though, we’ll get the kid and go home.”
“Tiffany’s still on the clock for a few hours. We have time.”
“Head for Winnetka then,” he says sharply, rattling off a park name.
“Will do.”
I punch the name into Maps. Forty-five minutes later, we pull up a gravel road that leads through an open gate. The fence is covered in green vines that never withered away in the winter. I pull up on a rocky patch in front of a half-melted pond.
“Let’s go,” he says cryptically.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, surveying the place.
Then his hand grazes my cheek, and two firm fingers tilt my chin up, bringing my eyes to his.
“Reese, do you trust me?”
A shiver zings through me. It hits me just how hard I trust Nick Brandt with everything.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He gets out of the car, shutting the door behind him.
I open mine to follow his lead after a delayed pause, but find Nick already there. He opens my door and holds out his hand for mine. Clasping his fingers, he helps me out of the car and onto my feet.
It’s this strange, fairy-tale thing as his lips meet mine.
He traces them with his tongue, slower today, like he’s holding something back. I release a slow breath, arching into his sweetness, surrendering to the mouth that used to war with mine nonstop.
When his tongue slips in with a low groan, I’m delirious.
I melt against him, clinging to the hard shield of his body.
Time stops.
Here, it’s just me, Nick, and a kiss for the history books.
It’s just this wicked friction between us as his hand finds my hip and pulls me against his leg, his abs.
It’s just a drawn-out curse as he breaks away like he might die.
“Fuck, Reese. You know what you do to me?” He’s snarling, his eyes dense forests inviting me into their secrets. “Can you even fathom how many times I’ve come in my hand thinking of you?”
Holy crap.
My knees go weak, trembling by the revelation that he’s...imagined me that way. Apparently for months.
God.
His grip tightens on my hips. His lips part in a hint of teeth, drawing a frayed breath. He holds me still as he glides one hand up my leg, and I struggle not to pant like a wild animal.
He grabs the bottom of my coat with one hand, takes the zipper between his other thumb and forefinger and slides it down, peeling it off before he throws it in the driver’s seat.
“The coat stays.”
I remove his long, dark coat for good measure.
“Then so does yours. We freeze together.” I fling his coat into the driver’s seat on top of mine.
He grins. “Sweetheart, you’re dead wrong. There’ll be no freezing tonight.”
Oh. My. God.
What’s he planning? Every part of me tingles.
But am I in over my head?
Probably.
Whatever I am, it doesn’t involve stopping.
Not when he takes my hand, leads me to the back door, and pulls me in. “Can you kiss me like you did this morning?”
“For the record, I think you did the kissing.” My voice comes out in a squeak.
He chuckles, violent and throaty, then kisses my chin.
“You’re a terrible liar, but I can kiss you now if you want.” He holds my face between his hands, presses his lips to mine, then flicks his tongue against my mouth.
I open, deepening the kiss. Nicholas doesn’t dare disappoint.
His tongue slashes against my own with a possessive lick, then moves inward, marking the edges of my mouth.
Those rough hands of his slide from my face to my shoulders to my back, and he pulls me into his lap with a feral look, a volcanic shine in his eyes that warns, ready or not, here I fucking come.
I straddle him the way I did last weekend—I try—and just like on the balcony, his bulge is under me, insanely hard and throbbing for attention.
So, this is how I die.
I never thought it would involve the hottest forbidden sex of my life with my flipping boss, but if this is my fate...mama’s not complaining.
He moves a hand to my shoe and pops it off, tumbling it to the floor. He uses the other hand to get my other shoe, never dragging those molten eyes off me.
Then I giggle like an idiot, breaking the kiss.
My cheeks could almost blister.
“Sorry,” I whimper.
“Why? You love to laugh, and I love the sound.” His chest swells with hot breath as he untucks my shirt from my pants and yanks it over my head.
I gasp.
“It’s a cold, rainy day. You’d better make good on warming me,” I tease, flicking my tongue against his lips.
“I’ll leave burn marks,” he snarls, moving us so he can wrestle himself out of his blazer and hang it over the back of my shoulders.
I’m suddenly grateful for just how roomy these fancy custom cars can be.
He stares into my eyes until his gaze shifts over my black sports bra—
Yikes. If I’d known this was coming today, maybe I would have bought the kind of bra Abby wears on date nights. She’s always been the adventurous one.
But his touch says it’s not my bra he cares about.
His hand roams my bare stomach, fingertips rubbing my skin, ever
y vivid second searing me alive.
Those hungry fingers move to the base of my neck, slipping down my bra, over my belly, all the way lower.
His finger dips under the waistband of my black pants—destroyers of sanity—but he doesn’t go further.
Instead, his hand pops out of my pants and trails up my stomach, over the bra, up to my neck and down again with terrible intent. His thumb catches the edge of my bra, and with a hot glint, he pulls.
Sweet terrifying freedom.
Palming my breast, he presses the center of his hand to a pert nipple spilling over the top.
“Ooh.” I barely recognize my own moan.
“You want more?” he whispers, giving me a lust-crazed look.
God, do I ever.
But I can’t talk. I have to breathe. I have to—
In one rough jerk, he shoves the thick elastic bra band over my breasts, releasing them. They spill down into his hands, just as his hips power up, shoving his bulge against the fabric that’s barely separating us.
I fall into his mauling grip, wrapping my legs around his waist, diving into the firm ridge under me.
Nick covers my hard nipples with his hands, aiming his thumbs at their centers.
He tortures.
He teases.
He worships.
And when he lifts his head and pulls me down, shoving one unruly nipple into his mouth, a silent scream builds in my throat.
“Oh, Nick!” I’m almost freaking crying, bawling his name.
“Should I kiss you?” he rumbles, dragging the roughness of his beard over my breasts.
“P-please.” My head spins like I’m intoxicated, and my body goes boneless.
I don’t have words right now, but I know I want anything Nick Brandt can give.
“Here?” His tongue slides into my mouth, just long enough to miss it when he pulls away. “Or maybe you want it here.”
He places a hand under my breast, tilting it up as he bends his head down. Those teeth take my nipple, sucking harder, crueler, taking me apart with every tortured flick of his tongue.
Shit, shit, shit.
Even if I’ve never done it before, I know the sugar rush in my blood isn’t just first time fireworks.
It’s undeniably him.
Gasping, my hands clutch his head, pinning him in place.
The more he sucks, the louder I moan, ready to explode before we’ve even—
He pulls away.
“No!” I hiss, hating how he teases, even if I love it, too.
“Relax,” he mumbles, slowly and achingly bringing his mouth to my other breast.
I’m Reese putty in his arms.
He teases my other nipple, bringing me back to that white-hot zone. Then his hands move to his own shirt and I watch, transfixed, as he unbuttons it.
With his shirt open, I try to help him out of it, catching his sleeve in a tangled handful. He hasn’t undone the cuffs of his sleeves, and they won’t slide over his large hand still fastened.
Clawing at his cuff, I tear one button off by accident. It goes bouncing to the floor somewhere.
Nick laughs, those panther-like eyes beaming.
“Patience, sweetheart. I’m a pretty good teacher,” he whispers, pressing his scorching lips to my forehead as he undoes the other button.
I slide the shirt off, marveling at his naked chest.
He’s just the right kind of refined strength—the right kind of bad—an inked canvas of a man with raw muscle creased into dark tattoos. They’re painted on like he’s always ready for battle, always ready to conquer and leave a trail of destruction in his wake.
Today, I realize I might be one more ruined heap in the wreckage of his life. But it won’t be him who hurts me—not when that raging glint in his eye asks a question.
Can I worship you, darling?
His hands move to the button of my black pants as I shift my legs apart in answer. My back ripples, and not from the cold.
It feels like it’s ninety degrees in here and the windows are fogging up.
He works it open, slides the zipper down, and repositions me to remove them. His hand slides under my black panties and they come off too.
With an unwavering hellfire-green stare, he undoes his pants and pushes himself off the seat to let them drop, along with his boxers.
“Are you afraid?” he whispers.
“No,” I whisper back, swallowing hard.
It’s not quite a lie. Concerned feels more accurate, seeing how large he is, and knowing how fierce he can be when he’s actually given a chance to break me.
Only one way to find out...
I straddle him again.
He slides his hand between my legs, shoving them apart.
All the better for stroking his fingers back and forth across my opening. He finds the small nub above my wetness and starts tracing circles.
Slow. Deliberate. Intense.
My body trembles. “Oh. Nick!”
His lips fuse to my bare shoulder.
He turns his face up and whispers, “It gets even better.”
Better? How?
I’m afraid I’ll explode on the spot.
And he tests my limit as he kisses my skin, still working his fingers into my pussy, teething harsh marks on my skin from my shoulder to my breast before he seizes one nipple in his mouth again.
It’s been nice knowing you.
Because this is his better, and it’s absolutely fatal.
Bright sensations hit me from everywhere at once as his fingers sweep low, teasing my slit, and then pushing in with one stroke.
His thumb lingers on my clit while his fingers find this magic spot against my inner wall.
I don’t even last a minute.
Everything rips apart in a breathless gasp and a rough command from his lips.
“Fucking come for me, sweetheart. Let go.”
Like I could do anything else.
Like I could stop the orgasm from Hades tearing through me, my legs shaking against his hand, riding his fingers into oblivion.
Nick Brandt doesn’t even need to ask me to come.
I do it, unhinged and helpless, because it’s what I’ve been craving for a year.
It’s the same scalding desire that’s always owned me—even when I hated it—and now the reality of that pleasure takes over, impounding me for life.
I. Am. His.
I’m barely conscious when I feel his tongue tracing my lips, his forehead pressed against mine. “Reese, will you take me? Right here in the car?”
Shiiit.
This man could take me in a dumpster and I wouldn’t deny him. Whimpering, I throw my legs around his waist, biting my lip.
“Do it, do it. Please!” Yes, I’m freaking begging, and I don’t care.
Not when I see the madness in his eyes as he rears back on his hips, grabbing something off the seat next to him.
Not when he rips the condom package he readied at some point when I wasn’t looking with his teeth.
Not when Nick damn Brandt thrusts slowly and firmly and greedily into my soaked, trembling depths with a claiming kiss that holds my lips—and my screams—hostage.
“Fuck!” I shriek against him, muffled by his shoulder.
There’s a flash of discomfort, my walls stretching, fighting to accommodate his fullness.
“Are you okay?” He stops, pulling back.
“Yeah. I’m...don’t stop,” I whisper. “For the love of everything, don’t stop.”
That caveman look reenters his eyes, and his cock shifts again, sliding back and surging home again for a second thrust.
Every inch of me floats as we find our rhythm. Pleasure comes, numbing the sharpness I felt at first.
I’ve never been filled like by another man, but I know it wouldn’t be like this.
I wouldn’t feel touched everywhere at once.
My legs shake against him. Another O roars in my depths.
I try to meet his thrusts, but I can’t
keep up with his slashing hips. So I just keep my legs open and adore each time he arches into me, urging him on with moans that just get louder.
If the park wasn’t totally deserted and a steady rain wasn’t beating the roof, I might be worried.
Because this man could get an entire concert out of me, that much I’m sure.
It must be intense for him, too.
If I wasn’t completely gone, I’d smile at that, but all I can do is suck his tongue into my mouth when he dives in for another kiss, when his hips sweep low, grinding his pubic bone on my clit.
“Reese, goddammit!” His hand rakes through my hair, twirling it into a fist.
He pulls my hair with just the right pressure, a second before his head jerks back and every sweat-slick muscle on his torso bows.
The explosion building in my core kicks off a second ahead of his.
It clenches and throbs and shakes me to the bone.
“Nick, Nick—Nick!” I cry his name, the last coherent thought in my head, feeling him plunging into me.
Yes, plunging.
That’s the only way I can describe how he pushes in to the hilt, smashing his balls on my butt, his cock swelling with angry promise.
I barely have a frantic second to take his mouth, to swallow his groan, to moan into his mouth.
Then the mother of all climaxes comes crashing down, sweeping me away in this undulating wave of thunder.
For the next several minutes, I have no earthly idea what happens.
How do you describe a sugar rush spun with adrenaline and wrapped in the greatest high known to mankind? That’s me joined with Nick as he erupts inside me, coming with the full force of his soul.
You’d better believe he steals mine, too.
When I can finally breathe again and hold my eyes open, I collapse against him with a sigh.
He’s still inside me, his arms tucked snug around me.
We stay like that for a few quiet minutes, listening to the rain slapping the car’s roof.
And then I realize I’ve just had hurricane-force sex with my boss—who also happens to be the most eligible bachelor in the Windy City—in the back of a company car. All while my niece is with a sitter we’ll probably be late for.
And for once in my life, I’m not panicked.
I’m enjoying every filthy second of this so much I giggle.
“What?” He strokes a hand up and down my back, amusement dancing in his eyes.