by Joy Nash
She anchored her fingers in his hair and tugged. “Come back.”
“When I’m ready.” He blew a cool stream of air across her heated skin.
She shivered. “Touch me again.”
He caught her gaze, gripped her thighs, and blew another puff. She wiggled her butt and tried to use her legs to urge him closer. He didn’t allow her to get far.
“Sadist,” she accused.
He laughed. “Please. You’re loving this.”
“God. I’d have to be dead not to.”
His gaze raked over her body. He wrapped her legs around his waist. Their eyes met as he touched her intimately, right where she needed him most. His eyes were dark and watchful.
She gripped his arms and moaned. “Faster.”
He increased the tempo. “Come for me, Tori.”
“I want you inside….”
“No. Now. I want to watch.”
She arched her hips. Her bare bottom slid past the edge of the counter. But she didn’t fall. Nick’s palms slid under her, lifting, supporting.
He set her back on the counter, urging her to open even wider than before. He slid in one finger, then two. She floated on the relentless tide of his urgency, was helpless as it pulled her under. She surfaced, only to hang, suspended, for what seemed like an unbearable slice of eternity.
The tide broke.
Her body convulsed. She clung to Nick, gasping, as a stunning climax washed through her.
“Oh, yeah.” Nick’s fingers pulsed.
He didn’t let up. He went on and on until he’d wrung every drop of pleasure from her body. Until she slumped forward, limp and sated, in his arms.
He covered her with kisses—her lips, her forehead, her nose—as his warm hands smoothed over her damp skin. She pressed her forehead to his and shuddered.
“That was…” A shaky laugh escaped her. “My God. I don’t know what it was.”
“It was you.” His voice shook. “It was all you.”
Her breath caught. She looked up, into his eyes. What she saw there made her heart contract.
All at once she felt empty again. She wanted him inside her. Needed him inside her. To fill all the lonely places in her soul.
“Nick, I—”
A faint electronic melody interrupted.
Instantly, he stiffened. “Shit.”
Her head came up. The melody, vaguely familiar, sounded again. Disoriented, she searched for the sound. It was coming from the front room.
“My cell phone.” His voice was tight.
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Let it ring.”
“I can’t. No one calls me at this hour of the night unless it’s bad news.”
Deftly, he unhooked her arms from his neck. He snagged his boxers and shorts as he strode swiftly out the kitchen door.
She slid off the counter, rubbing her arms against a sudden chill. Her dress was a wrinkled disaster. She smoothed down the skirt and tugged up the top as best she could. By the time she joined Nick, he was half-dressed, pants on, but hanging open. The cell was pressed to his ear.
Was she imagining it, or had his shoulders hunched ever so slightly when she walked into the room?
“Calm down. Just tell me what’s the matter,” he was saying into the phone. He glanced at Tori as she entered, then away, his expression closed.
Her stomach cramped.
It only got worse when Nick gave her his back and moved to the bay window, the absolute farthest point in the room from where she stood.
“Aw, honey, don’t cry. Look, just hold on. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Honey? Don’t cry? Just who was he talking to?
He snapped the phone closed and laid it on the windowsill while he pulled up his zipper and buckled his belt. She could tell the phone call had affected him deeply; his jaw was clenched so tight she thought it might crack.
She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Trouble?”
He looked up, startled at the sound of her voice, as if he’d forgotten she was in the room. “Yeah. A family emergency. Nothing too serious, but I’ve gotta go right away. I’m sorry.”
“I could come with you—”
“No,” he said sharply. Then, in a more normal tone, “No. There’s no need.” He pocketed his cell and strode back to the kitchen. Tori followed, leaning against the door frame as he shrugged into his shirt.
Her gaze drifted to the counter, where just a few minutes ago, the Earth had moved. Now it’d come to a screeching halt. Her afterglow was shot to hell.
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Nick was saying. “About two.”
She barely heard him.
“Hey.” He touched her cheek. “That’s not a tear, is it?”
She shook her head as another fell. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
His hand dropped. “I have to take care of this.”
I thought you were going to take care of me.
The thought popped into her head before she could censor it. It wasn’t often she slipped back into the needy child she’d once been, but the orgasm had ripped the protective lid off her emotions. Right now she felt exposed, raw, and so very, very vulnerable.
He gave her a quick kiss. “Look, don’t cry. Please. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Then he was gone.
The glare of his headlights arced through the bay window. Tori stood still for a long time after they faded, staring at her reflection in the darkened glass.
Don’t cry. Nick had said the same thing to his one a.m. caller.
A family emergency, he’d said.
Nick had a family. Well, of course he did. Everyone did, it seemed. Everyone except Tori.
But did Nick have a wife?
Oh, God. It couldn’t be.
She didn’t want him to be that kind of guy. But she couldn’t help wondering. She’d never come right out and asked if he was married. He didn’t wear a ring, but some men didn’t, especially guys who worked with their hands. And the caller had definitely been a woman. She could tell by his tone of voice that he hadn’t been talking to a man.
If not a wife, then maybe a serious girlfriend? One he was cheating on? That was almost as bad.
No. Nick couldn’t be attached. Tori’s instincts told her he was just too honest to screw around on someone. But the fact remained that there was a woman who thought nothing of calling him on his cell phone after midnight. It might have been a sister, she supposed. Or even his mother, though his tone had seemed a bit too intimate for that.
But if the call hadn’t been from a wife or lover, why hadn’t he just told her who was on the line?
She tried to stop the flow of miserable, obsessive thoughts. She tried to believe in Nick, but in her vulnerable postorgasm state it was hard for Tori to maintain her bravado. Ugly emotions she hadn’t felt since that last terrible fight with Colin threatened to drown her.
She’d known Nick for only a little more than a week. Was he a player picking up some action? Or did he feel something more, as she did? She bounced between the two extremes, unable to reconcile either with what she knew of him.
Which was, she realized now, very little. She knew he could handle a power saw. She knew his diet was just short of lethal, and that he had the worst taste in music. She knew his slow, sexy smile melted her bones, and his hands on her body were enough to make her go up in flames.
In short—what did she really know about Nick Santangelo?
Next to nothing.
Nick’s raging hard-on was a distant memory by the time he reached Leigh. The cops were already there. An ambulance, too. Jesus, even though he’d spoken to her five minutes before, his heart just about stopped when he saw those red and blue flashing lights. The rescue vehicles provided the only illumination on an otherwise empty stretch of bay causeway.
The bottom had dropped out of his gut the instant his phone had rung, and he’d yet to get full control over his emotions. Leigh had told him she wasn’t hurt, but seeing those ambulance lig
hts caused a familiar wave of raw, paralyzing terror. He remembered other nights, other ambulances, all too well. He could hear his mother’s voice, trembling beneath its calm, relaying their address to the 911 dispatcher. His mind and lungs had gone numb each time he’d frantically worked on Leigh’s tiny body, willing her lungs to start working again.
Nick knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that if he hadn’t been trained in emergency medical rescue—thanks to his high school stint with the Beach Patrol—Leigh wouldn’t be here now. But damn it, he couldn’t protect her every minute of the night anymore. She was seventeen. And all they did these days was fight.
By the time he’d pulled onto the shoulder behind the accident scene, his hands were shaking so badly he could hardly put his truck in park.
Leigh’s Tracker was just visible. It had swerved off the road, plowed through a clump of sea grass, and landed head-first in a tidal pool. Her car was pitched at an awkward angle, the front wheels submerged, water seeping into the passenger compartment. Thank God the canvas top had been down, providing an easy means of escape. And she wasn’t hurt.
It could have been worse. Much worse.
He spotted her standing near the back of the ambulance, her clothes and hair soaked, clutching a thin blanket around her shoulders. He jumped out of the truck and made a beeline toward her.
Halfway there, he jerked to a halt. Jason MacAllister was hovering at her elbow. Jason’s shirt and jeans were as wet and sandy as Leigh’s. Clearly, he’d been in the car with her.
Shit.
Nick’s blood pressure rocketed, nearly exploding out the top of his skull. He forced himself to breathe, to unclench his fists. Goddamn it. Leigh hadn’t so much as blinked when she’d told him she’d be spending the night at Stacey’s. But he should’ve known something was up. He should’ve remembered tonight was Jason’s graduation party.
He started moving again, more slowly than before. When he reached his daughter’s side, he did his best to ignore her boyfriend. Because he knew if he so much as looked at Jason, he’d have to beat the kid to a bloody pulp. And with the cops nearby, that probably wasn’t the best idea.
But then Leigh looked up at Nick, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. Just like that, his anger evaporated, leaving his insides hollow and hurting. God, he loved her so much. If he ever lost her, he’d die. It was that simple.
Her hair clung to her neck like blonde seaweed. Tears etched trails through the dirt on her cheeks. She looked so young. So fragile, especially when a cool breeze blew a shiver through her. Nick reached for her, anchoring her to his body in a reflexive gesture from her childhood. A gesture from a time when he hadn’t thought twice about hugging her.
For once, she didn’t pull away. She pressed her face into his shirt, sniffling. Nick felt cold, his stomach sick. What if he’d arrived to find her broken body sprawled on the pavement? What if, after all those nights he’d kept her alive by the sheer force of his will, it had come to that?
His arms tightened. He felt her tremble and knew she was trying to hold back her tears.
The police officer greeted him, nodding toward the Tracker. “You’re the owner of this vehicle?”
He met the man’s gaze over the top of Leigh’s head. “Yes. I’m Leigh’s father. What happened?”
“The young lady here says she swerved to avoid an oncoming car. She lost control of the vehicle on the curve.”
“Another car? Where is it? Where’s the driver?”
“The other car didn’t stop,” Leigh said, her voice muffled by his shirt.
Nick looked down at her. She didn’t look up. He glanced over at Jason, but the kid was looking at his feet.
Ah, hell.
The policeman droned on. Both teenagers had passed a breath test. There was no alcohol or drugs in the car. There were no injuries other than minor scrapes and bruises; the paramedics saw no reason to take either Leigh or Jason to the hospital. But Nick should call a towing service….
When the officer finally returned to his cruiser to complete his paperwork, Nick eased back and looked at Leigh.
“Are you really okay, honey?”
She blinked back another round of tears. “Yes. I’m fine.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry about the car, Daddy.”
Daddy. When was the last time she’d called him that?
Jason inched closer, causing Nick’s muffled anger to spike. He turned on the kid. “What the hell do you mean, putting my daughter in danger like this?”
“I…” Jason opened his mouth, then shut it again.
“It wasn’t Jason’s fault,” Leigh put in quickly. “The other car—”
Nick glanced toward the patrol car, fighting to keep his voice low. “Do you think I believe that load of crap? About another car? About you being behind the wheel? Don’t bullshit me, Leigh. I know you weren’t driving.”
“But…I was.”
Right. And Nick was the pope.
Nick glared at Jason. The kid wisely took a step back. “And you. What were you doing instead of watching the road? Drooling all over my daughter?”
“Sir, I—”
“There was another car,” Leigh cut in. “And it didn’t have its lights on. It came right at us! I think the driver was drunk.” She slipped out of Nick’s arms and stepped in front of Jason, as if to protect him.
Jesus.
“Leigh,” Jason said, trying to move her aside. “Let me talk to your father.”
She ignored him. “We didn’t see the other car, Daddy, not until it was on top of us. It’s a miracle Jason even managed to avoid—” Abruptly, she shut her mouth.
Nick watched guilt flash through her eyes. “I knew it,” he said evenly. “Damn it, Leigh, you know you’re the only one who’s supposed to drive that car.”
“I know, but I didn’t think that—”
“Yeah, I can believe you didn’t think. Just like you didn’t think I’d find out you aren’t spending the night at Stacey’s.”
“I was going to sleep at Stacey’s, I swear! I went to pick her up at Jason’s—”
“Jason’s graduation party. The one I said you couldn’t go to. Damn it, Leigh—”
He cut himself off as a violent shudder racked Leigh’s body. By the light of the headlights, he could see that her lips were turning blue. And her breathing didn’t sound good.
“Get in the truck,” he ordered.
She hesitated. “What about Jason?”
“Jason can walk back to town. Or bum a ride from the cop. I don’t care.”
Leigh opened her mouth to argue, but Jason touched her arm. “Don’t worry about me, babe. Go with your father and get warmed up. I’ll get home fine.”
She looked up at him and their gazes locked. Some unspoken communication passed between them. Nick saw the silent rapport and felt ill. Leigh thought she was in love with this kid. Had she slept with him? The very thought made him want to punch something.
“In the truck. Now.”
Lips pressed tight, she stomped to the truck and climbed into the passenger’s seat. He hovered behind her, leaning across her to turn the key in the ignition and flip the heater on.
The rise and fall of her breathing still didn’t sound right. “Do you need your inhaler?”
“No,” she muttered. “I don’t. It’s underwater, anyway.”
“You’ve got another one at the house, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” She hugged herself, scowling, looking past him through the open door.
Nick turned to find Jason watching. He slammed the door and took three long strides toward the kid. “I’m warning you, MacAllister. Stay away from her.”
Jason met his gaze without flinching. “Mr. Santangelo, I…”
Whatever Jason wanted to say, Nick didn’t want to hear it. He turned on his heel and strode toward the police cruiser. After wrapping things up with the cop, he returned to the truck to find Leigh shivering.
Reaching behind the seat, he fished out an old sweatshirt. “Here. Take off
that wet shirt and put this on.”
She stared at her. “You want me to change here, in the truck? No way.”
“I’m going to shut this door and turn around. It’s dark. No one’s going to see you. I want this dry shirt on you in under ten seconds. I’m not having you get sick on top of everything else.”
“I won’t get sick. I’m fine.”
He threw the sweatshirt on her lap. “Damn it, Leigh. Could you please not argue with me for once?”
She glared at him, and for three long seconds he was sure she was going to throw the shirt back at him. Then she sighed. “Fine.”
Nick got out of the truck and strode a short distance away. Why did everything between Leigh and him have to be so damn hard? No matter how he tried, she always gave him that look that said it wasn’t enough. That he wasn’t enough. Maybe it was because he’d been gone too much when she was small. Maybe he’d left her to Nonna and Rita too often after Cindy left. But damn it, what else could he have done? He’d been little more than a kid himself, and after his father had died so suddenly, it had been up to him to keep a roof over all their heads. He’d worked like a dog, day and night. How many nights had he come home after she’d gone to bed? Too many to count. Sometimes, when she’d been little, he’d just stand by her bed and watch her sleep for a while. Before he quite knew what had happened, Leigh’d been in middle school. Then in high school.
He’d done his best. It wasn’t like he’d been an absentee father. He’d been there for her as much as he could, given the circumstances. He’d taught her how to roller-skate, how to swim, how to ride a two-wheeler. He’d even coached her softball team one season, and taken her to a father-daughter dance. Had it been enough? He didn’t know, and now it was too late. He returned to the car. Leigh had put on his sweatshirt. It just about swallowed her up.
He put the truck in gear and pulled off the shoulder.
“Don’t you need to call someone about my car?” she said in a small voice.
“It’s not going anywhere. I’ll call when we get home.”