Forever with You

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  His hands curved under my arms and he lifted me up, dragging me up the center of the mattress, and his mouth claimed mine. We were a tangle of arms and legs, of greedy hands and even more ravenous kisses. Sex . . . sex had never been like this before. Sure, it had been fun and I’d experienced my fair share of orgasms and good times, but this was mind-­blowing, because it wasn’t just about two ­people who wanted to get off. There was a passion in the way his lips moved over my skin, a desire in the way my hands familiarized themselves with the many dips and hard planes, and a shattering intimacy when he lifted himself up onto his forearm, his gaze holding mine as he guiding himself into me.

  My hips arched and my hands clenched his arms as he began to move, slowly at first, a teasing rhythm that was just too much. I pressed the heels of my feet into his calves. My nails skated over his skin. Pressure built inside of me, and his thrusts picked up, his hot breath dancing off my cheek, the provocative words he spoke into my ear urging me on. He was on me, around me, and in me—­a part of me. Skin on skin. Nothing between us. The tension rapidly spun, coiling tight and tighter.

  This wasn’t two ­people fucking.

  That was the last thought at the knot in my very core bursting, whipping out. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed into me. My head kicked back and I cried his name and God only knows whatever words. I tightened all around him as he thrust an arm under me, sealing my body to his as his hips ground against mine. His other arm caged me in, holding me in place. He was moving wildly, his hips bucking, and the pressure was too much. The aftershocks shattered again and the world seemed to splinter as another release powered through me.

  Nick shouted hoarsely a second before he buried his head in the space between my neck and shoulder. He stilled, his hips pressed into mine. A great shudder rocked him as I held him, and several long moments passed before he moved.

  He lifted his head as my hands slid down his sides. His lips pressed against my temple, a heartbeat later gliding over my brow. There was a quick peck on the tip of my nose and then he kissed me sweetly.

  And something about that lazy, soft kiss was more powerful than any of the others.

  Nick eased out of me, and out of past experience I expected him to hop out of the bed and the awkward search and rescue for clothes would begin. But he didn’t. With his one arm still under me, he tugged me along with him as he rolled onto his back, gathering me up so my front was pressed against his side and my leg tangled with his. We were damp and flushed, but as my cheek came down on his shoulder, there wasn’t a place more comfortable. His hand idly roamed up and down my back. Neither of us spoke.

  As I lay there, my heart pounding and my breaths still coming too fast, an earlier thought resurfaced. Was I falling for him?

  Nick turned his head toward mine and his lips brushed my forehead.

  No. I wasn’t falling for him.

  Because there was a good chance I had already fallen for him.

  Chapter 20

  At some point Nick had gotten up and made his way into the kitchen, completely naked and totally at ease being so. He returned with two glasses of water, turned off the light, and rejoined me.

  Curled up against him, on my side and with the comforter tucked around our waists, I was in total snuggle mode. And I was also . . . absolutely content. Although snuggling was completely foreign to me, everything about this felt right, like we’d been doing it for years. That feeling was a bit unnerving, but I didn’t shy away from it. I sort of wanted to roll around in it.

  Tracing the thin line of hair underneath his navel, I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I feel like I should be thanking you, but I’m curious.” His fingers were dancing along my back and ribs. “Why are you thanking me?”

  My smile grew. “For coming over. You didn’t have to do that. You could’ve waited. It was sweet.”

  “I’m a sweet guy, but don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep.”

  I laughed softly. “It’ll be our secret.”

  Nick turned so that my cheek was resting on his arm and we were facing each other. His hand drifted from my waist to my lower stomach. “Are you excited about the doctor’s appointment?”

  In the darkness, I could make out just enough of the faint line of his features to tell he was smiling. “I am. I’m a little nervous, because I don’t know what to really expect,” I admitted.

  His hand flattened along my stomach. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, does it?”

  My heart tripped. “No. And that’s so crazy, huh?”

  “Probably normal. I guess after we go to the doc, reality kicks in,” he said. “How’s your mom handling everything?”

  I placed my hand over his, liking the feeling. “She’s really supportive. I’m lucky. Too bad she doesn’t live here, because I’m pretty sure we’d have a built-­in babysitter.” I paused as a thousand questions about his family surfaced. Now was a good enough time, if any, to start asking. “You don’t talk about your family a lot. I remember you said your mom died. Can I ask how?”

  Nick didn’t respond for a long moment, and I held my breath, waiting. If he really wanted to make something out of this, he was going to have to open up. So was I. This was an important moment between us, definitely more so than what we’d just shared.

  “My mom died when I was a freshman in high school,” he said, and I let go of my breath. “She died of a broken heart. And yeah, I know how stupid that sounds, but after my father died, she just gave up.”

  My chest squeezed. I’d figured his father wasn’t in the picture since Nick had said his family wasn’t around, but I hadn’t automatically assumed that he died. Curving my hand around his, I drew it away from my stomach and pressed it close to my chest, along with his.

  “She barely ate,” he went on. “Didn’t take care of herself at all. Stopped going out and she basically just stopped everything. My grandfather—­her father—­tried to get her help, before he got sick. He got her into counseling, but she didn’t take any of the meds prescribed. She just didn’t care, couldn’t deal with living without Dad. It took years.” His hand tightened around mine. “I was at school. It was in the morning, and my grandfather had come to get me. After my dad died, we’d moved in with him. He’d gone out that morning to get groceries and came home and found her dead in bed.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  He lifted our joined hands and kissed the back of mine. Then he exhaled roughly. “I’m not sure you want to know about my father.”

  “I do.”

  Our hands lowered back to the place between our chests. Several moments passed before he spoke. “My father killed himself.”

  My eyes widened in shock. I had not been expecting that. Not at all.

  “My family hasn’t had the greatest luck, huh? My grandfather gets Alzheimer’s. Mom gives up, and my dad punched out his own card. ” He turned his head so that he was looking up at the ceiling. “My grandfather—­Job—­was a pretty successful businessman. So was his father. They got into the construction business around here a long time ago and they were good at it—­great at it. Half the damn houses around here were built or worked on by them. When Mom met Dad and they got married, he started working for Job, and eventually Dad took over the business and things were good at first. I mean, I was just a kid back then, and I don’t remember a lot, but my parents were happy. We lived a good . . . life. That much I remember.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Nick’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “My father’s company was building this house while they were finishing up another. The place was pretty huge and even though Dad’s company was stretched pretty thin, he couldn’t walk away from the job and that type of money. The normal contractors he worked with were busy on the other home, so he hired a few new ­people. One of them was this electrician. Dad thought they were on the up and up. You know
? I don’t think he believed he had any reason to doubt the work any of them were doing. He was wrong.”

  His hand loosened, but I refused to let go. Another moment passed. “The electrician he hired disappeared after the house was finished. Which was common. ­People move around all the time. No big deal. Not at first.”

  Instinct told me something really bad was coming and hearing it was going to be painful.

  “Come to find out, the electrician cut corners. You’d be surprised how often that shit happens. Usually it doesn’t become a big thing, but his guy . . . he fucked up. The wiring was bad—­real bad—­and it caused the house to catch on fire.” Nick swallowed, and I could feel the tension building in him. “The family that had the home built were in that house when it went up in flames. Parents. Three kids. Two of the kids died in it.”

  I closed my eyes. “Oh God . . .”

  “Dad had insurance—­liability insurance. Since the electrician wasn’t around, it fell on him. Not that it wouldn’t have anyway. It was his company that built that house. It was his responsibility to make sure everything was done correctly. The family sued. Rightfully. It wiped out everything except what my grandfather had. He was smart with money—­with business. He separated the money he’d saved over the years from the company long before he handed it over to my dad, but it wasn’t the money that got to my dad. At least, I don’t think it was. Not from what I remember.” His voice thickened, became hoarse. “It killed him knowing he was responsible for that family, ate away at him. I do vaguely remember him sitting up at night, in the living room. Like he wasn’t even there. About a year and a half after the fire, he hung himself. Mom found him.”

  “God.” I wiggled closer, pressing the length of my body against his. At once, a lot of Nick started to make sense. “I’m sorry. I know those two words are lame, but I’m so sorry.”

  “Those words aren’t lame. They mean something.” He turned his head toward me. “There’s something else . . . and you’re probably going to think it’s weird.”

  “Doubtful,” I promised.

  “No. It’s pretty weird. Reece is one of a handful of ­people who know, and I know damn well he hasn’t even told Roxy. I don’t even know why I’m about to tell you this.”

  Curiosity had a hold on me. I couldn’t understand what could be so weird that Reece would know and keep it to himself, even from Roxy. “Okay,” I said, searching out his gaze in the semidarkness. “Even if I think it’s weird, it doesn’t mean I’m going to kick you out of the bed.”

  He shook his head. “Well, I hope not. It would be awkward considering we’re both naked.”

  I smiled despite the conversation. “Tell me.”

  He tugged on my hand a little. “You don’t know a lot about Calla, do you?”

  My little old ears perked right up. I wasn’t a detective, but my mind immediately raced to what Roxy had said about Nick’s behavior around her and what I’d witnessed. “Not really. I just knew that she hung out with Teresa when I was at Shepherd.”

  “But you’ve . . . you’ve noticed the scar on her face, right?”

  I started to frown. “Yeah?”

  Nick drew in another breath. “She got that scar in a fire. Windows blew out or something. Hit her in the face. She was one of the kids who lived in the house my dad had worked on. It was her brothers that died. And that’s not all. Her parents originally owned Mona’s.”

  Seconds passed and I had no idea what to say. Shock roared through me. “Calla doesn’t know that?”

  “No. And it probably wouldn’t have ever crossed her mind. My father’s last name was Novak, but when he died, my mother ended up taking back her maiden name—­Blanco. And I’ve never told her. How in the fuck would I tell her? You know? When she first walked into the bar, my heart just about stopped. You see, no one ever expected her to come back here. After the fire, her father left and her mom ended up handling the bar herself, but she went downhill—­got messed up on drugs and became a shit mother. She couldn’t deal with losing her little boys,” he said, staring at the ceiling once more. “I ended up running into Mona—­that’s her mom—­a few years ago. She knew who I was. Said I looked like my father. It was one of those rare moments when she wasn’t on something. Anyway, I was starting to take care of my grandfather, just out of college, and Mona knew what was going on with Job. She offered me a job. It was weird. I didn’t need the money. Not really. Job had more than enough to care for me to be able to care of him, but it was . . . a break. You know?”

  “To get away? I get it.”

  He nodded. “So I started working at Mona’s, before Jax came around, and then when he got there, he kind of took over. The whole situation around Mona and the bar is a mess, but I think in a way, working there for her, I was kind of . . .”

  “Atoning for what had happened?” When he didn’t speak, I squeezed his hand. “Nick, you know none of what happened was your fault, right? And it sounds like even though your dad was legally responsible, he . . . he was a victim in this, too.”

  “It took me a long time to realize that,” he said after a ­couple of moments. “I don’t even know why I had my head twisted up in that. I guess just young and dumb. Anyway, like I said, I didn’t expect to see Calla.”

  “Do you think you’re ever going to tell her?”

  “I don’t know. Probably would’ve made sense if I’d done it when she first showed up. Now it just seems weird.”

  “It’s not weird,” I told him, and when he turned his head toward me, I didn’t have to see him to know there was a dubious look on his face. “Okay. It’s a little weird, but I understand why you haven’t. I don’t know her well, but she doesn’t seem like someone who’d hold something against you that you had nothing to do with.”

  “But how hard for her could it be to realize she’s working alongside the son of the man who was basically responsible for her life being ripped apart? That can’t be easy.” His voice was quiet. “I just . . . I don’t want to mess up her life.”

  Oh gosh, that hurt to hear, and there was something about those words that made me think of what he’d said earlier about being in a relationship before. Was that why he was so against relationships? Because somehow he didn’t think he deserved it because of his father and the house fire? Seemed like such a leap, but the fact that Nick had felt that working at Mona’s was atonement for something his father did worried me.

  “You were in a serious relationship once, weren’t you?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I took a deep breath. “What happened?”

  “It was a girl I was seeing in college. We were serious, and for a while, I thought . . . it would be for the long haul.”

  An irrational surge of jealousy lit me up. The intensity surprised me, and I sort of wanted to smack myself. How could I be jealous of a girl who was no longer in the picture? Wait. Oh my God. What if he was still in love with her? My stomach dropped.

  “Anyway,” he continued, oblivious to my internal freak-­out, “when my grandfather got sick and all that started happening, things got stressed between us. I don’t think she could deal with everything I had to do. At first I didn’t get to see her a lot, dealing with him. We grew apart, and then it was just over one day. It sucked, but hell, if she couldn’t handle my grandfather being sick and me taking care of him, what would she have done if I had gotten sick?”

  “What a bitch,” I blurted out.

  Nick chuckled as he let go of my hand and circled his arm around my waist loosely. “What about you? Haven’t been in a serious relationship since high school?”

  “I don’t even know if I can say that relationship was really serious or not,” I admitted dryly.

  His hand smoothed up my side. “So what’s your deal? You don’t believe in love?”

  The question caught me off guard. “I believe in love. I do. I just . . . I was never
in love. Not like with my parents. They loved each other. I mean, every time you saw them together, heard them talk to one another, even if they were mad, you could hear the love in their voices. That’s the kind of love I want. I just didn’t settle for less.”

  “Hmm . . .” His hand made a slow sweep back to my hip. “You’re using the past tense there, Stephanie.”

  My name—­I really liked it when he said my name.

  “Um, my dad was in the marines,” I said, and it felt strange saying this out loud, because it just wasn’t something I talked about often. “And he was overseas a lot. When I was fifteen, he was home during the summer, and it was great. Then he headed back over. He never came back.”

  Nick didn’t speak as he lifted his head and pressed a soft, chaste kiss against my forehead. I swallowed, but that damn knot was back, lodged in my throat. “He was shot, and I remember sitting on the stairs when the two officers told my mom that it was quick, that he didn’t suffer. And I also remember thinking, how did knowing that help anything? Now I get it. I’m happy he didn’t suffer, but at fifteen I just . . . it didn’t make it easier.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and then kissed my forehead again. “I obviously didn’t know your father, but the fact he went over there and gave his life for the rest of us, he was a good man.”

  “He really was,” I whispered, smiling sadly. “My mom never remarried nor has she seriously dated. I don’t think she ever will. Till this day, she wears his dog tags. Only takes them off when she showers. Doesn’t matter what she’s wearing.” I swallowed again, clearing my throat. “Yeah, so, there’s that.”

  He lifted his hand from my hip and lightly brushed my hair back from my face. His hand lingered on my cheek. “Is that a picture of your dad on that shelf?”