Turning away from the sunlit window where he’d been in deep reverie, Nick took his now-cold mug of java and headed to the kitchen but not without first glancing at the closed bedroom door at the other side of the open great room.
Beyond that door lay all the hopes, dreams, and quite a few fantasies his lonely heart had ever wished for, his beautiful, funny, and unconventional Shannon. She was older and quite a bit wiser, but she was also the only woman he’d ever allowed into his heart. The startling turquoise eyes he remembered, which had looked at him with such unabashed caring and belief, were now shadowed with anger and a good dose of mistrust.
Hell, he couldn’t blame her. He’d acted like a jerk. Told himself he did so to protect her from the ugly trolls and soul-crushing reality of life amongst Randolph Barrett’s minions, but that didn’t assuage the guilt and remorse he felt. It also didn’t do anything for the conspicuous hard-on he’d been sporting from the moment he’d realized just who had plowed into him. As soon as awareness had lit up his mind, the kick-starting of his heart had followed, along with a tightness in his groin as his body awakened from an eight-year sleep with a testosterone-fueled charge of pure male awareness.
With a heavy, audible sigh, he moved slowly to the kitchen sink to deal with the empty mug. Just as his hand reached out to turn the water on, he heard it.
His name. Just his name. Like a whisper, only with an intensity that let him know it wasn’t happening just in his mind. She was calling out to him. Before he knew it, he was at her door. What had he done with the mug? He didn’t know and didn’t care. All that mattered was how his heart felt when he heard her voice whisper his name.
* * *
Although it was she who had called out for him, Shannon wasn’t prepared when the bedroom door pushed open and Nick was standing there. Yep, he was still drop-dead sexy and gorgeous even with the days’-old day stubble and the fact that he was clearly wearing the same clothes he’d had on yesterday. He filled the doorway with his presence, and not just physically. Everything about him was overwhelming—his size, the way his gaze swept over her, how he moved, and the primal call her body responded to despite the way she tried to distance herself from that powerful awareness. She shouldn’t be so damn glad to see that he was still there. But she was.
Watching his approach, Shannon was unsettled by the way his presence reached out to her. He was like a magnet, and she could no more look away or ignore him than she could stand up and run from the room.
Like a moth to the flame, she thought. Try as she might to appear nonchalant and blasé about the whole thing, the way her insides fluttered and the unsettling heat and arousal swirling in her lap disquieted her enormously.
Feeling uncharacteristically tongue-tied after a long emotionally draining night full of tears, Shannon could do no more than utter a feeble, “Hi,” as Nick approached.
Muttering his own less-than-eloquent, “Hi,” Shannon tried not to notice how the his pants stretched snugly over what appeared to be a healthy bulge when he stopped and jammed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans
Why had she called out to him? She forgot in that moment, as her need to use the bathroom was momentarily replaced by a sensual pulse of desire that robbed her of the ability to move, much less speak.
She wanted him. No, it was a thousand shades deeper than merely want. She needed him. Needed to experience his possession, to drown in the waves of pleasure only his body had given her. It had only ever been him, would always ever be only him.
That single, unavoidable flash point of truth lasered through the walls she’d built against him. Not just around her heart, but her mind as well. She inhaled sharply, sucking in air that was suddenly drenched with her explosive desire to have that rock-hard body of his come to her, cover her with his overwhelming male form, and press her down into the mattress as he feasted on her helpless response in that wickedly alpha-male way he had of controlling everything around him. Lowering her eyes carefully and hoping that he hadn’t noticed her hungry gaze, Shannon went very still in order to regroup her emotions before she made matters worse.
* * *
Once he had confirmed that she had indeed called out to him and had found her sitting on the edge of the bed, mangled foot dangling down towards the floor, Nick tread carefully into her bedroom to be of whatever assistance he could.
It was Nick who eventually spoke, pushing back the veil of silence laced with a triple dose of intoxicating emotions that followed their every interaction.
“How are you this morning, Shannon?” he asked with real, worried concern. “Were you able to sleep?”
He hadn’t needed to ask because the remnants of a restless night were clearly evident on her face as he considered the obvious strain bracketing the lines of her mouth and her pale, almost luminescent skin marred by slight smudges under her eyes.
Right now what he was seeing was someone who had not yet found her footing. Good, he thought. Any hesitation on her part was an opening for him, signaling loud and clear that, though she was clearly trying, she hadn’t completely closed off her heart to him. At least not yet.
This was windfall time, the mother of all bonus rounds dropped in his lap by a forgiving universe that was offering up a challenge like no other. Something he hadn’t prepared for. Hadn’t even hoped against hope could ever happen. And yet here it was. The opportunity of his lifetime. Rare is it for anyone to find themselves in a situation wherein they could completely re-envision their life, but that’s what he held so cautiously in his hands. A chance to right a terrible wrong, an opportunity to dream a different future than the one they’d both been heading into, a future filled with hope and faith and love, for they could have all of that and so much more. The burden of that lay squarely on him. It was his wrong to right and he’d better not blow it.
Shannon squirmed where she sat on the edge of her bed in tell-tale response to his question. Sleep? Had she slept? She wasn’t entirely sure. The night had been crowded by images from the past mingled with the circumstances of the present. If she had slept, it was fitfully, and the way her tongue seemed fused to the top of her mouth and the fuzzy way her reflexes were responding told more about a long night spent tossing, turning, and sighing rather than sleeping like a baby.
To make matters worse, with Nick being his ever-watchful self, she was pretty sure he had totally caught her ogling his body and was also relatively certain that she looked like holy hell this morning and did not in any way resemble someone who woke up on the right side of the bed.
No, she hadn’t slept, but he didn’t need to hear her acknowledge that, fearing such a statement might make him wonder if he was causing her sleeplessness. After forcing her eyes away from their traitorous appraisal of his masculine charm, Shannon remembered why she had called for him.
“I, um…” sighing while she squirmed in embarrassment. “Well, I really have to use the bathroom,” she blurted out, baldly following up the declaration with a nervous cough followed by some furious lip biting.
“I feel kind of icky and need to clean up.” Pointing at her foot she murmured, “And this ankle feels like it isn’t part of my body, so clearly I could use some assistance.”
With that, both of them fixed their separate attentions on the injured foot hanging off the bed. It didn’t look as swollen as it did yesterday, but ghastly discoloration from the deep bruising was beginning to appear. Each considered what was before them, with Shannon sighing in resignation because it would be foolish not to accept his help, and Nick thoughtfully assessing the best way to meet her needs and see to her comfort.
Ah, well then, that was simple, he thought as once again he simply marched toward her and with no effort whatsoever plucked her up from the bed, hoisting her into his large, solid arms.
Nick was aware of several things all at once as he settled Shannon in his arms. First, of course, was a sense of contentment, for this was where she belonged. Even though she wasn’t ready to admit it yet, he was cert
ain after some of what had transpired yesterday that she was not completely shut off to him.
Next was a tactical awareness of what he was doing as he looked for and marked the presence of the en suite bath while he ticked off in his head what he’d need to do in order to make this easy for her.
Those first two thought patterns started chugging to a stuttering mental halt as whatever awareness and presence of mind he possessed suddenly focused entirely on the physical sensation of holding her so close in his arms. With his senses assaulted by the subtleties of her intoxicating nearness, his mind was infused with a testosterone-fueled rush as he became aware of a plump, round breast resting on one of his hands and the incredible softness and warmth of her thighs where they fell across his arms. Her pert little bottom was against a forearm, and that mind-melting scent that was hers alone mixed with her signature fragrance made him strengthen his hold on her as a good case of lust gripped him, hard.
Was it possible to keep functioning, he wondered, when all of the blood in one’s body heads south? His form-fitting jeans, which already left little to the imagination, were about to burst at the seams from the serious case of wood he was experiencing.
Trying to keep his mind on the task at hand instead of in her panties, Nick made a quick bee-line for the bathroom before his libido got the best of him
* * *
The squeak of surprise she emitted when Nick hoisted her in his arms changed to alarm when Shannon realized instantly that, barely covered as she was in her ridiculously short baby-doll nightie, from this position not only was she crushed against his chest, but one of his hands was gripping her torso at a spot that caused one of her breasts to pillow against his fingers.
To make matters a thousand times worse, in the short, flimsy nightie that only came to the tops of her legs, the supporting arm under her bottom was separated from her heat by a rather sensible pair of simple white panties with a bit of lace and nothing else. Shannon’s undignified state of undress was not helping her remain in control of the predicament she found herself in and she tried desperately to tug down her tiny nightie while trying to retain some sense of composure in this odd situation
Navigating unsuccessfully through waves of sensual awareness, it didn’t register right away where they were headed, but the second Shannon understood that he was taking her to the en suite bath, she all but leapt out of his arms in panic.
Oh no, no, no! This can’t be happening; this cannot be happening, her mind screamed. Even if she had to start crying hysterically, Shannon knew she had to stop him before he took her into that room. There was no way she was prepared to deal with the fallout of what the two of them in the addition she had built to her unique specifications would mean once he got a good look at the magnificent wet room where he was heading. While entirely her vision, it was also a picture-perfect re-creation of another space, one they would both have distinct memories of.
Letting go of the nightgown she had been clutching in a lame attempt at modesty, Shannon reached out and grabbed his bicep as if trying to jerk him to a stop, saying as calmly as her near-hysterical brain would allow, “Um, Nick…don’t you think it better to take me to the small bathroom like we did last night?” Her suddenly over-bright eyes darted in the direction of the en suite. He kept walking while her alarm rapidly increased the closer they got to the open doors leading to the bath.
Beyond panicked, she tried again. “Nick, really!” she implored in what she hoped was a no-nonsense, authoritative voice.
It was her worst nightmare. What would he think when he realized for himself the sacred space she had created here in her home? She had her answer when seconds later he took a sharp intake of breath and she felt his chest expand and his fingers dig into her pliant flesh. Shannon didn’t know what to do. She knew what he was seeing, but she didn’t know what to say. She had to remind herself to keep breathing as her panic went off the chart.
Though still moving forward, Nick found himself slowing considerably when her alarm had been so obvious as he searched for whatever was causing her noticeable distress.
Sensing nothing obvious, he looked down at Shannon in the exact moment they stepped through to the enormous room. Her still silence struck him then, as did her ashen face and trembling lips. What the…?
He looked up, expecting he didn’t know what, and found a scene unfolding before him, exploding in his brain like it was shot from a missile held deep in his memory. He gulped in a huge breath and felt his grip on her body tightening while she continued to be so still and silent in his hold.
Nick couldn’t believe what was before his eyes. The large open room was beautifully constructed to match the style of the rest of the house with no expense being spared as far as he could tell, for all the fixtures were elegantly modern and of noticeable quality. It was the design, layout, and the distinctive tile accents that brought him up short, for here before him, in her home in Southern California, Shannon had re-created the distinctive Moroccan-inspired tile wet room from the house where they’d stayed the first time they’d made love.
Every detail was there, even the beautiful French doors that opened to a private terrace outside. An elaborate small chandelier, looking like it had been rescued from the Kasbah itself, hung above a wide bathing platform littered with a mélange of carefully placed candle holders that would emit a sensual ambiance when lit. He recalled another room just like this one when flickering shadows against the vivid reds, blues, and greens of the magnificent tiled bath had lit up a night of a thousand delights and tried not to groan.
On the far side of the room from this enormous step-up tub platform was an antique-style fainting couch and two small, ornately carved wooden tables nestled in the corner beneath a series of wide windows that met the French doors. Several large plants completed the corner that led to the far wall and a beautiful built-in vanity over which hung an elaborate gilded oval mirror.
Further along the side wall near the front corner of the room was a large and elaborate-looking digital shower that was open except for the waist-high walls on two sides of the space with a bench running along the shower side of one wall. The sight of that shower bench ignited a tableau of wicked memories from their shared past that made him clench his jaw and grit his teeth in frustration.
Having done almost a complete circle of the room, Nick noticed behind him, to the side of the doors, was another space tucked away for the toilet and sink area.
She’d reconstructed in near-precise detail down to the tiniest minutiae the original layout of a room he would have known without hesitation, right down to the small fireplace next to the tub platform. The truth was there for all to see.
She wasn’t over him. The way she all but melted each time he touched her told him plenty, but the sight of this room told a story that went straight to his soul. The way he’d cruelly forced her from his life and slammed a door on their future hadn’t been enough to send her seeking a happy life once he’d gone from her. Oh, dear god. What had he done? How much bigger of a fool could he have been? He just had to set this right.
The pounding of his heart and the quaking female form clutched in his arms added to the humbling emotions quickly gathering in Nick’s consciousness. He couldn’t seem to speak, and truth be told, he didn’t know what he’d say if he could. He felt a sobering sense of awareness at what his presence in this most private space must be costing her. He highly doubted, judging by the way she tried to dissuade him from accessing this room, that she’d meant for him to see it. Knowing what she’d created only heaped more shame on his past behavior. Fighting for control, he softened his hold on her and walked calmly to the enclosed toilet area where he matter-of-factly lowered her gently down before quickly excusing himself so she could have some privacy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After placing her carefully on the floor where she could balance next to the toilet, Nick shielded his face from her while quietly backing away, leaving Shannon to tremble and shake away from his prying eye
s. Her carefully controlled world was breaking into pieces, bit by bit, and maybe for the first time she was allowing some small but insistent part of herself to admit that imagining the past would stay in the past was a false pretense in light of the story this room told.
Shannon forced her mind’s eye to see the thousand tiny strands she had woven into her life throughout the years that when threaded together created a colorful tapestry that bespoke of love, love lost, and a woman’s most secret hidden desires. She shook her head in dismay at the foolishness of thinking all this time that she was somehow over him, in control of her own destiny and immune to the longings of her heart.
This room was only the start, for when he went into her office he would find a large antique apothecary jar perched on her desk filled with black licorice, associated wholly with him. There was more, a lot more, but right at this moment, she forced the requirements of her body to overtake the reflections of her mind and set about dealing with her immediate needs.
In the end, balancing on one foot while being ever-mindful to put no pressure on her injured ankle was easier than expected due in no short measure to years of yoga training. She had to call out again for Nick’s assistance getting from the toilet room to the tub where she planned to soak in a warm bath long enough to get her jumbled emotions under control. Or so she hoped.
When he stepped back to her side and gently picked her up as though she were a delicate piece of fragile glass, she noticed immediately that he was avoiding her eyes. Just as well, she winced inwardly. With her own emotions careening all over the place, she knew she wasn’t ready to deal with his rejection again so certain was she that he was probably embarrassed by all of this.
What man wouldn’t be turned off by so blatant an indulgence in what ended up being nothing more than a fantasy? Her fantasy. Not his. He’d made that clear in his “Dear Shannon” letter, although she had to admit he’d made a pretty compelling case last evening when trying to explain why he’d acted the way he had eight years past.
Love Redone Page 11