Buried in the moist recesses of her mouth, he felt the suction all the way into his balls before she released him, licked her way back to the tip and started all over again. He just might die if she kept up the rhythm. He’d never gone from zero to sixty so damned fast.
His orgasm threatened and everything inside him knew it would be the most explosive one he’d ever had. Maybe it was the way she focused on her task, licking and eating at him like he was the tastiest treat. Or maybe it was the way she gave of herself in the process. He’d placed a hand on her back and her entire body shook, letting him know she was enjoying this as much as he was. But he had the scary feeling that the only thing that mattered was the fact that it was Nicole selflessly giving him all those things, at a time when he should have remained focused on her.
Somehow he managed to pull himself out of her mouth, flip her over, and pin her on her back before he came.
“What’s wrong?” She lay beneath him, large eyes opened wide, mouth swollen and wet.
“Not a damned thing except I’m not inside you,” he said at the same time he rectified the situation, notching himself at her entrance and thrusting inside.
“Oh, Sam.” His name sounded like the deepest groan in the back of her throat, taking him impossibly higher.
“Look at me,” he said, managing to listen to the voice in his head directing something other than his cock.
She forced her heavy eyelids open.
He eased out of her, deliberately slow, wanting her to feel every last inch of him.
“Nic?”
He watched as she forced herself to focus. “Hmm?”
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said, before thrusting back inside.
Sam didn’t remember much of their joint frenzy to completion, but long after he collapsed on top of her, after they’d showered again and eaten dinner, and after she’d fallen asleep, he lay awake. And remembered the tears that moistened her face as he made love to her for the first time.
Thirteen
Sam walked into the kitchen the next morning, shocked by the explosion of baking stuff all over the usually pristine counters: bowls, a mixer, pans, flour, and God knows what else spread across the granite. Sammy sat on a stool, her little body leaning over, listening intently to Nicole’s explanation.
“So now mix the dough until there are no more lumps. Let me get you started because the flour’s heavy like paste.” Nicole took over the task for a few seconds, until she was satisfied Sammy could handle things. “Okay, here.” She handed the little girl the wooden spoon. “Take your time, okay?”
“’Kay.” Sammy began to stir in the contents of the bowl. She bit down on her lip, concentrating on her job, eager to please Nicole. “Is it ready?” she asked after about three or four stirs.
Grinning, Nicole looked down. “Nope. Still lumpy.” She dipped her finger into the mix and placed a dot on Sammy’s nose. “Keep going.”
Sammy giggled and bent back down to work.
Sam watched in silence, his admiration for Nicole growing. Her ability to relate to his goddaughter, her caring nature, her patience with a little girl, all showed him a depth he’d always known was there. How she managed to be this warm, giving woman in the face of all she’d lacked in life astounded him—and his heart opened to her a little more.
Uncomfortable with his thoughts, he cleared his throat. “Morning,” he said, making his presence known.
“Uncle Sam! Look at what we’re baking!”
Nicole looked up, met his gaze, and blushed. In her face, he saw the replay of last night in her head. He knew exactly what she was feeling. He couldn’t look at her and not want.
“I see, Pumpkin,” he said, using his favorite nickname for his goddaughter.
“We’re not bakin’ pumpkins, silly! It’s gonna be cookies!”
Sam grinned and pulled up a stool, joining the party. “So what’s the occasion?”
“Daddy’s coming home today. So we’re baking.” Sammy still mixed the dough, but Sam noticed her movements slowing, her arm obviously getting tired. And there were still massive lumps in the mixture.
“Hey, I want a turn,” he said, nudging Sammy lightly with his arm.
She looked up at him through big brown eyes. “Mommy says we’re ’posed to share.” She pulled the spoon out of the bowl and handed it to Sam, trailing cookie dough over the counter.
He met Nicole’s amused gaze, not missing the warmth there, heat and tenderness, just for him.
He glanced away and took the spoon from Sammy. He began to stir, making the dough smooth and much easier for the little girl to finish the job.
“Look at that,” Nicole said, pointing to the cookie dough. “We’re almost ready to put them on the pans. My assistants did great jobs.”
“Yay!” Sammy clapped her hands together. “Can I have a taste before we turn ’em into cookies? And can I lick the bowl when we’re done?”
Nicole smiled at the little girl, so charmed and in love with the child. She was so glad she’d woken up early and found her coloring a card for her dad’s return. This had been one of the best baking sessions she’d ever had. Coming on top of the hottest, most special night she’d ever shared with a man.
She shivered at the memory of Sam buried deep inside her. Happy birthday, sweetheart. Goose bumps broke out over her skin as she replayed the low timbre of his voice in her head, as she’d been doing over and over again.
She’d awakened early, her body sore, her heart full, and forced herself out of bed, all the while reminding herself that by wishing her a happy birthday that way, he was just trying to make up for her pathetic life. Just because she felt so much more every time they were together, it didn’t mean he was becoming more emotionally involved. And, further, just because she didn’t want her heart to go getting any stupid ideas, she reminded herself that even if he was falling for her too, he’d made himself perfectly clear. No ties. No relationship. No future.
“Nicole, can I lick the bowl?” Sammy asked again, bringing her back to the present.
She forced herself to focus on the little girl. “Well, I don’t know. You might have to fight your partner there for bowl rights.” She caught Sam’s eye, unnerved by the warmth and approval she saw in his expression.
Sammy’s eyes grew wide. “But . . . but . . . it’s my cookies!” she said, panicking at the thought of losing her anticipated treat.
“Relax,” Sam assured her. “I could give up my rights for . . . how about a kiss?” he asked Sammy, but his gaze drifted to Nicole’s.
Before either of them could react, Sammy threw her arms around Sam and planted a big kiss on his cheek. The result of her impulse was to spread the dough that was still on her nose across his cheek.
Sammy jumped back to her seat, a satisfied look on her face. “Uh-oh,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Nicole asked.
“I have to pee. Nobody touch my cookies!” Sammy yelled, and ran out of the room.
Laughing, Nicole walked over to Sam and ran a hand down his cheek, scooping up the dough. His eyes darkened at her touch. And when she slid her finger into her mouth, taking a deliberately long time to suck and lick the sweet dough, his big body shuddered.
“Cut it out,” he said in a gruff voice.
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Feeling playful, she pulled her finger out with a deliberate pop. She listened for Sammy’s voice or footsteps before leaning close and licking the rest of the dough off Sam’s cheek.
He let out a low growl, one she was coming to recognize as his I’m close to losing control sound. She liked that she could do this to such a strong, normally composed man. He turned his head and caught her lips, his minty taste mingling with the dough she’d been sneaking.
“Break it up, you two,” Sara said, joining them.
Nicole ducked and Sam swiped at the remaining dough on his cheek. A few seconds later, Sammy came skidding back into the room.
“Didya wait for me to put the coo
kies on the pan?” she asked.
“I did. Let’s get to work.”
She busied herself teaching Sammy how much dough to scoop and proper placement of cookies on the sheet, but her tingling body reminded her that Sam wouldn’t be easily forgotten.
The rest of the weekend passed quickly, and too soon, Nicole had repacked her things and was back in Serendipity, in her new home. Sam had dropped her off, explaining that he had to meet up with his brother, and she’d promised to remain at home until he knew the status of the Russians.
While she unpacked from the weekend, she reflected on her time away. Considering she’d left to escape trouble, she’d enjoyed herself way more than she should have. Nicole had gotten used to living with Sam—making love at night, sometimes waking up and doing it again in the morning. He’d let down his guard with her, and she saw a different side to the man.
He was a doting godfather, a solid friend to Sara, and a guy’s guy with her husband, Mark. With Nicole, he’d been attentive, and she’d enjoyed their time alone together and with Sammy, listening to her chatter. When Mark came home, she was treated to a firsthand look into the married couple’s dynamic. They were obviously in love, and their family with Sammy was one Nicole envied and knew she’d want to replicate if she ever had the chance to have a husband and child of her own.
Because her own family didn’t exist. Her parents? Hadn’t called her on her birthday. Her twin? Was still psychotic and delusional. Any friends she had? Were better off in New York City with their fake lives. Nicole’s throat swelled and she pushed back the pain. Pain she ought to be used to. But the more she let down her walls with Sam and his friends, the more she began to feel. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d shut off those emotions over the years, but here they were, rearing their ugly, unwanted heads.
Especially the ones involving Sam. And that was something she couldn’t allow. So as soon as she wrapped up the mess with Tyler’s father, she’d turn her focus to creating her new life in Serendipity. She had a house of her own, a business to start and build, and friends like Macy to cultivate. Sam could be her sex buddy, but she’d be a fool to let down her walls any further, only to end up with her heart sliced out of her chest.
Sam walked into the police station and headed directly to his brother’s office. He knocked once and let himself inside, shutting the door behind him. For a man who’d fought the idea of settling down in Serendipity, Mike had done so with seeming ease. The office used to belong to their father, Simon, and all the pictures on the walls were the same, depicting their hometown over the years. But the photographs on the desk belonged to Mike, and those were of himself and Cara. Some were facing inward, but others faced out, and Sam only had to look at the happy couple to know his brother had changed.
Sam, of all people, knew it hadn’t been easy for Mike. He also remembered being one of the people to help his brother see what he could have with Cara. Ironic, since Sam didn’t believe in the same kind of thing for himself.
But something had shifted inside him after this weekend with Nicole. It felt deep and profound, and yet Sam couldn’t put a name on it. He couldn’t bring himself to examine it too closely.
“Hey, you called and asked me to stay so we could talk. Are you going to stand there? Or did you have something on your mind?” Mike asked, breaking into Sam’s thoughts.
He’d come directly from dropping off Nicole at home. His own suitcases were still in the trunk. He’d needed to talk to his brother.
“All quiet in town after I left?” Sam asked.
Mike nodded. “The festival ended and everyone cleared out. Stanton left town, as you know. The Russians hadn’t checked into any nearby motels and were gone by nightfall. I didn’t see them around again, and believe me, I had an eye out.”
“Has Stanton been in touch?” Sam had given Tyler Mike’s number and told him to fill his brother in on any progress or lack thereof at home.
Mike nodded. “He tried to talk his father into coming clean, but his old man is more afraid of his clients than the cops. He knows the Russians could get to him in jail or out. So he’s refusing. Told Tyler if he could get Nicole back home and under his thumb, everything would be fine.”
Sam let out a low, threatening sound.
“Yeah. We all know that’s not happening,” Mike said, chuckling. “His old man’s delusional.”
Sam nodded.
“I told Stanton the feds want Nicole to wear a wire with his father. He balked. Wants to do it himself.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, feeling a surprising swell of admiration for Nicole’s ex. Maybe Stanton wasn’t such a jerk after all. “I’d rather he take the risk than Nicole. When do the feds want this to go down?”
“They’re watching Romanov. He headed back to L.A., so not for a while. You’ll be the first to know when I do.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks. I’m keeping quiet about all this until Nicole needs to know. No use getting her worked up over something that may not come to pass.”
“That’s your call.” Mike folded his arms across his chest and met Sam’s gaze. “Speaking of Nicole, how’s your girl?”
“She’s not . . .” He caught his brother’s raised eyebrows and look of disbelief. “Yeah, umm, she’s fine.”
Mike laughed. “I never thought I’d see this day.”
“You haven’t. It’s just . . . it’s good. For now.”
Mike took his suit jacket off the back of his chair and slung it over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, little brother. I’m heading home to Cara.”
“I’m meeting up with her for breakfast before work tomorrow.”
“Good. Maybe you can figure out what’s going on with her. I’m sure there’s something she’s not telling me, and it makes no sense.”
“And it bugs the hell out of you that you need me to dig.” Sam understood his brother’s way of thinking. He wouldn’t like it if he needed to find someone else for Nicole to confide in.
“You can say that again,” Mike muttered.
“I’m on it.” He slapped his brother on the back. “It can’t be anything terrible.” Mike and Cara were solid.
Like Sara and Mark. Erin and Cole.
Like Nic . . . Sam shook his head and pushed the thought down deep, far from the light of day.
The following morning, Cara was waiting for Sam in their usual booth at The Family Restaurant.
“Long time no see,” he said, settling into the seat across from her.
“I’ve missed hanging out with you.” She smiled, but the emotion didn’t reach her eyes.
“Okay, talk to me. What’s wrong?” He covered her hand with his.
It wasn’t just that she’d lost weight or her skin was pale. Dark circles shadowed beneath her eyes and she lacked the vibrancy he usually associated with Cara. “You still don’t feel well?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No.” She gestured to the tea in a cup in front of her, a decaffeinated wrapper lying beside it.
Sam gestured to the waitress. “Coffee, please,” he said, before refocusing on Cara.
This illness had been going on too long, reminding him of when his sister had had a never-ending stomach bug before discovering she was pregnant. He wondered if the problem was that basic.
He leaned in close. “You know, the last woman who didn’t feel well for so long was Erin, and she turned out to be—”
“Don’t say it!” Cara said, cutting him off with a wave of her hand.
Sam narrowed his gaze. “Is that it? Are you pregnant?”
She shrugged. “I’m afraid to find out,” she admitted in a half-whisper.
“That’s not like you. And it makes no sense. You’re married. You’re happy. In love, yes?”
She nodded, blue eyes wide . . . but not happy.
Which was crazy. Of all the women he knew, she’d make the best mother. She worked with abused women at a shelter and had a huge heart. Not to mention, Cara faced life and problems head-on.
“What�
�s going on?” he asked.
She opened and closed her mouth, as if building up the courage to explain. “I’m worried about your brother.”
“What about him? He loves you.” Hell, Mike had fallen so hard for Cara, even Sam had been envious of the intensity between them, knowing he’d never have that for himself. “Not to mention he’s worried about you. He asked me to pump you for information, and that’s wrong. You need to talk to him.”
She sighed, her eyes sad. “But he took so long to come around to the idea of settling in Serendipity—with me—and when we talked about kids, it was in the future. A baby now wasn’t part of our plan.”
Sam shook his head at her attitude. “Mike wasn’t part of the plan for my mother. Angel wasn’t part of Erin and Cole’s plan. Life happens. You of all people know that. If you’re pregnant and he’s going to be a father? He’ll be thrilled because it’s with you.”
“You really think so?” she asked, her hand already cupping her belly in a protective gesture he’d seen with his sister.
“I may not be an expert on love, but I know my brother. It’s going to be okay.”
She swallowed hard, eyes glistening. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m so emotional.” She wiped at her damp eyes.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Do you really need me to explain?”
That earned him a smile. “I probably don’t need to take that test,” she muttered. “But I will. I’ve been carrying two of them around with me for a week.”
He squeezed her hand. “That’s more like the Cara I know. Always prepared and ready for anything.”
“Well, I’d better be, right?” She glanced down at her stomach, hidden beneath baggy sweats, and her expression softened.
“Better?” he asked, hoping he’d helped her come to terms with things.
“Yeah. I’m glad we didn’t lose our friendship when I married your brother.”
“No chance of that happening.”
She smiled, seeming more at peace. “So I think I’m going to go home and do this before I lose my nerve,” she said.
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