He nodded. “Should we stop at the pharmacy? We can get some iron tablets.”
“I can do it tomorrow. I just want to go get my car and head home.”
A sheepish expression crossed his face. “I took your keys out of your purse and asked a couple of my ground crew guys to drive your car back to the house. I should have asked you, but you looked terrible. I just wanted to try and make things easier for you.”
“Okay,” she said. She didn’t have it in her to fight. Seeing her baby for the first time and hearing the heartbeat had left her in a fog.
Surprise flashed in his eyes. He wasn’t expecting to get off so easily. “I’ll take you home.”
It was dark out as Nick settled her into his car. Lindsey stared out the window, watching the street lamps cast pools of soft light onto the ground. He could have gone home a different way—a shorter way. The hospital was off Langley Park Boulevard. The boulevard was the main artery that bordered the south side of the Langley Park’s town center. Foxglove Lane ran perpendicular to it. But Nick had left the hospital and headed north, and that meant passing by the community center.
“It looks different now,” she said. The front of the building had changed. Graceful arching, wooden beams gave the structure’s entrance a modern, barn-like quality.
Nick didn’t answer. But from the corner of her eye, he gave her a tight nod.
They headed south and weaved their way through the rows of Tudors and bungalows to 718 Foxglove Lane. Neither said another word.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for her purse when a pang of anxiety flared hot in her chest. “Nick, I don’t know where I left my camera bag! It contained everything. My new camera, the lenses—”
He put his hand on top of hers. “It’s okay. I told the guys to lock it in your trunk. See, there’s your car.” He pointed to the gravel driveway that ran parallel to Em and Michael’s.
She let out a breath. “Where are my keys?”
“Behind the flower pot.”
Lindsey hadn’t noticed a flower pot. “Where?”
“On the porch, there’s an empty flower pot in the far corner.”
She got out of the car and hurried up the porch steps. There was a flower pot, but no keys.
The floorboards creaked behind her. “Did you find them?”
“No,” she said, looking around.
Nick went to the window and peered inside her house. “Did you leave a light on?”
He jiggled the doorknob, and the front door clicked open.
“Would your guys have gone into my house?”
“No, I’ve known Edgar and Silas for as long as I’ve been flying into the Downtown Airport. I trust them.” His expression darkened as a clank came from the back of the Foursquare. He handed her his car keys. “Go get in my car and lock the doors.”
She did as he said. Her heart pounded, the beat echoing and pulsing like a fire alarm. Had Brett found her? Did she need to run? Then she remembered Terry.
He was supposed to come over and fix her back door. She had told him she’d meet him here this afternoon. Jesus, he probably knocked on the door, and when she wasn’t there, he assumed the keys hidden behind the planter were for him. It was an honest mistake. Lindsey burst out of the car and ran into the house.
Nick was holding Terry by his coveralls.
“Nick, it’s okay. I know him. It’s Terry, from the hardware store.”
Nick kept hold of Terry. “Who?”
“Terry, the handyman. He was going to come over this afternoon to fix the door and install new locks.”
Terry stuttered a few times before the words came out fast and shaky. “When nobody answered the door, I figured you had left the keys for me to get started, miss.”
“Nick, it’s okay,” she said, taking a step closer. “I just forgot Terry was coming over with everything that happened today.”
Nick released Terry’s straps, but his hardened expression didn’t change.
Terry picked up his toolbox. “I was just finishing up. I changed out the locks and fixed the back door. Did somebody break in here?”
Lindsey gave Terry a tight smile. The adrenaline rush receded, but her limbs still trembled with that fight or flight response. “Let me walk you out, Terry.”
“Keys,” Nick said, voice low and deadly.
“Right, right.” Terry patted his pockets until he found the right one and produced her set of car keys and two new silver door keys.
“Thanks, I’ll take those,” Lindsey said, ushering Terry to the front door.
“I’m really sorry, miss,” he said.
“It was just a misunderstanding, Terry. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
“Nah,” Terry answered, kicking a few stones on the sidewalk. “I’d have done the same if some guy I didn’t know was in my girl’s house.”
Lindsey nodded. “Thank you for fixing the door.”
Terry lifted his chin and briefly met her eye. “I can start installing the window coverings as soon as you decide what kind you want.”
“That would be wonderful. I’ll be in touch.”
Terry nodded then headed up Foxglove Lane toward the town center. He didn’t have a car. He must have ridden the bus into town.
Terry’s form disappeared into the darkness, and Lindsey went back inside the house. She closed and locked the front door, satisfied with the sturdy click of the new deadbolt. She rested her head against the door when a sound from the kitchen caught her attention.
Nick was still there. His heavy footfalls moved methodically back and forth but stopped when she entered.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I don’t like him, and I don’t want him in your house.”
“You’re the one who broke down my door,” she countered.
But before she could tell him to leave, her mind went fuzzy. A lightheaded fog passed over her. She reached out, knocked her purse onto the floor, and braced herself on the table.
Nick swooped in, taking her forearms into his hands. “Linds?” he breathed, craning his head to meet her gaze.
They stared at each other. A beat passed, then two, before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Kissing Nick Kincade in her kitchen was the last thing she thought she would be doing today, but at that moment, it was the only thing that made sense.
Her escape from Brett, her new home, her new job, her baby’s heartbeat, and the run-in with Terry had pushed her over the edge. She trembled, exposed and raw. Her nerves popped and writhed like live wires frayed into a million stripped threads. She needed something to ground her, something solid and true.
She needed Nick.
His body tensed, but he didn’t break the kiss.
She pulled back a fraction. “Please, Nick.”
Her barely breathed words were all the confirmation he needed. His hands flew from her arms, and he weaved them into her hair, changing the angle of their connection and deepening the kiss.
Last night, she had been caught in that place between sleep and wakefulness when he had kissed her. She thought she was dreaming, the sounds of Camp Clem at night were so clear until Nick tried to touch her abdomen. Like the piercing ring of a fire alarm, that slight touch instantly roused her. She and Nick weren’t two teenagers kissing under the Ozark stars. He had gotten into her house and was inches away from caressing her pregnant belly. But now, she was fully awake, and, baby or not, she needed him.
His thumbs made tiny circles along her jawline as his fingers cradled the back of her head. His hot breath danced with hers. And his lips. She hadn’t kissed many men since Nick, but none of them ignited the heat in her core the way Nick’s kisses did. The rhythm, the pressure, the slow licks of his tongue across her bottom lip had her wet and ready. She wanted him hard between her legs, cock pulsing, twitching to be inside of her. She wanted to feel the delicious weight of him as he pinned her down and claimed her body.
But she couldn’t let him touch her. How would she explain the baby? She wasn’t s
howing, not really, but she couldn’t take the chance. She broke the kiss and glanced around the kitchen.
Two aprons hung off a hook on the back of the pantry door.
“Sit,” she commanded, pulling out a kitchen chair.
He complied and met her gaze with hooded eyes.
She grabbed the aprons and fell to her knees next to the chair.
“Linds, what are you doing?”
She gripped his wrist. “Do you trust me, Nick?”
He held her gaze a beat. “Yes.”
“It has to be like this,” she said, tying his wrist to the leg of the chair. She’d done a sloppy job. She was never good with knots. All she could hope was that Nick would understand what she needed.
She inhaled sharply and waited.
He let his free arm fall to the side and held his wrist near the other chair leg.
He understood.
Lindsey released a relieved breath and secured his wrist with the second apron.
He could have freed himself. But he didn’t. He sat still. He sat waiting. Hooded blue eyes watching her, drinking her in.
She stood in front of him and flicked off the kitchen light. The glow from Em and Michael’s outdoor lighting warmed the room in a haze of silver. Lindsey blinked and let her eyes adjust. Nick hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to free himself. His broad shoulders heaved up and down in the dim light with each breath.
She pulled down her panties and left them in a tiny pile on the floor. She started to unzip her boots when Nick spoke.
“Leave them on.” His voice was a low, hoarse growl.
She released the zipper and stood between his legs. Her fingertips trailed along his thighs. She worked her way to his cock and palmed him. He took in a sharp breath. Lindsey licked her lips. She unbuckled his belt, undid the button, and unzipped his trousers. His cock strained against his boxer briefs. He shifted his body, and Lindsey pulled down his pants and underwear. Using her thumb and index finger, she played with the head of his cock. Rubbing it gently between her fingers. Exploring. Remembering. Outlining the shaft before wrapping her fingers around him and stroking up and down.
Nick groaned as the taut muscles of his abdomen flexed and tightened with each stroke. She dipped her head and kissed him, and he captured her mouth with a growl as she climbed onto his lap. She released his cock and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it open and allowing her fingers to follow the lines carved by hard muscle. She traced each line before working her way to the hard V that led to his cock. She wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft.
“Do your wrists hurt?” she breathed as his cock jumped in her hand.
He took her earlobe into his mouth. “I don’t give a fuck about my wrists right now.”
She rolled her hips and pressed his cock to her entrance.
He let out a deep moan. “Do we need to use protection?”
She shook her head, and he thrust his hips up to meet her. “You’re so wet for me.”
She positioned his cock and sank down, taking in every inch. She cupped his face and kissed him then let her hands explore. His torso, his neck, his jaw—they were stronger, more defined than she had remembered. But she would have known his body anywhere. It was as familiar to her at this moment as it was sixteen years ago.
“Nick,” she gasped, her breath hot against his cheek.
“I know, Linds. I know,” he answered, emotion lacing his words.
She held onto his shoulders and rolled her hips, back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm. The primal slap of flesh intertwined with the sounds of their gasping breaths and wet, hot kisses. She dug her fingertips into his shoulder blades and increased her pace. Her thighs trembled with need as she pumped harder and faster, riding his cock. The wooden chair rocked and creaked beneath them.
“I never wanted to leave you,” Nick whispered, thrusting hard. “I’ve never stopped loving you. It’s always been you, Lindsey.”
She twisted her fingers into his hair, arching into him, tears trailing down her cheeks as his beautiful cock pumped inside her tight, slick core.
She teetered on the edge of pleasure—so powerful, so perfect, she couldn’t form another coherent thought. Her orgasm ripped through her. Her center pulsed and gripped his length as their mouths met in a tangle of lips and teeth and breath.
The chair’s legs clawed against the hardwood floor in a feverish, frenzied scrape. He followed her, calling out into the darkness, his deep thrusts stretching and filling her completely.
She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a ragged breath.
He pressed a kiss to her neck. “Can I touch you?”
She reached down to release the apron strings, but only felt his wrist. The apron restraints hadn’t held. But his hands remained at his sides, unbound, gripping the chair legs.
She traced his naked wrist with her index finger. “It came loose. When did that happen?”
“About a minute after you tied them.”
She heard the smile in his voice.
“Why did you keep them there?”
“Because that’s what you asked me to do.”
She let out a pained breath and dropped her head to the crook of his neck.
He bent his head. “Please, let me touch you.”
She nodded, and his arms wrapped around her. It was like falling back in time. It was like finding the space where every part of you fit. It was everything she had never thought she’d know again.
He smoothed back her hair and brushed a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry, Linds. Please, don’t cry.”
She raised her head and met his gaze in the silver light. Where was she supposed to start? What was she supposed to say to this man? She’d never stopped loving him either? She wanted nothing more than to erase the past and pretend the world started at that moment?
“Cody, boy!” came a deep voice from outside.
Lindsey stiffened. “Who’s that?”
Nick cupped her cheek. “It’s just Michael out with his dog, Cody.”
She let out a relieved sigh.
“Can we talk, Linds?” he asked, his words looming in the darkness.
She nodded and climbed off his lap. Smoothing her skirt, she picked up her panties and turned on a small lamp. A golden pool of light warmed the room. She kept her back to Nick, giving him time to right his own clothing.
“What the hell is this, Linds?” His tone was sharp.
She turned as Nick retrieved something from the ground. The contents of her purse had spilled onto the floor. Wallet, cell phone, lip balm, and two small, rectangular ultrasound photos. Nick raised the third photo, holding it out like it was radioactive.
14
“Is this your baby?”
Nick almost didn’t want Lindsey to answer. Maybe she had found these ultrasound pictures outside. Em and Michael must have dropped them. She’d put them in her purse and was going to return them the next time she ran into them. But the look on Lindsey’s face told him that the fantasy he had concocted was utter bullshit. He took a closer look at the picture. Today’s date along with Davies, Lindsey was in bold capital letters at the top of the photo.
“Who the hell is the father, Linds?”
She stared at the floor and shook her head.
He stood up and gestured to the chair. “We just fucked in your kitchen. I think you owe me some answers.”
“I can’t,” she said, still shaking her head. “I thought…”
“You thought, what? That I’d be fine sleeping with you while you’re pregnant, fucking pregnant, with someone’s baby?”
“It’s not that simple, Nick.”
He barked out a laugh. Her head shot up, and she met his gaze. He nearly crumbled. If anything was going to break him, it was those damn blue-green eyes. They owned him, haunted him. But this—a baby. This was huge. This was life altering. This deserved an explanation.
He crossed his arms. “Either you start talking, or I’m leaving.”
“I’m about sevente
en weeks pregnant.”
“And?”
He heard his father’s cruelty infused into the word. If he looked into a mirror right now, he would see his father’s empty eyes, the strong jawline, tight and rigid. And fists, ready to inflict pain. The darkness would rule him just as it had ruled his father.
She rubbed her hands together before placing them on her belly then lifted her chin and met his hollow gaze. “And that’s all I can tell you.”
“This is not how it works, Lindsey. You don’t get to play with people’s hearts and minds.” The callousness in his voice. The notes of contempt and disdain. He sounded like his father berating his mother.
He should have known better. He knew there was something wrong the minute she got out of her car yesterday. Something that went beyond the heartbreak of their shared past. But a baby? Christ, he didn’t even know where to start.
He had decided long ago that he couldn’t be a father. He’d never even imagined becoming a husband. He couldn’t take the chance. He was too much like his father. If he put himself into a situation where he could hurt a wife or a child, genetics would take over. He was sure of it. That internal programming would call the shots, and he wasn’t about to let anyone tempt him into becoming his father.
Not even Lindsey.
“I’m—” she began.
He stopped her. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.”
Nick wasn’t sure who he was looking at, Lindsey or his mother. His vision had gone red. This is why he didn’t have relationships. This is why he’d never allowed himself to love again. With trembling hands, he crammed the ultrasound photo into his pocket and opened the back door.
He looked at the new, shiny deadbolt. “I’m glad you’ve got new locks.” The words tasted acrid, like biting into charcoal. “Because I certainly won’t be breaking down your door to try and save you again.”
Her mouth fell open, and he slammed the door behind him.
“Everything okay?” came a voice in the dark.
It was Michael. He had Cody on a leash. The old golden retriever nosed Nick’s hand, looking for affection.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, scratching between Cody’s ears.
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 64