Sara again took his length in hand, stroking him with more enthusiasm than experience. Hissing, he lifted his hip and growled, “In my pocket, my wallet, I think I have a condom.”
Her slim fingers digging in his pocket had him shuddering and cursing under his breath as her breasts swayed forward brushing against his chest. Eyes dark with want she lifted the wrapper to her mouth, licked her lips and grabbed a corner with shiny white teeth, ripping one end open. She tried to slide the rubber over his cock, but only succeeded in driving him mad without accomplishing much.
He placed his hand over hers, stifling a throaty groan and stared into her glowing face. And just like that Nick found himself ass-over-teakettle in love. He couldn’t wait any longer. They’d take it slower next time. Right now, he had to feel her around him before he exploded. He made short work of getting the condom on, then lifted her up. Slowly she slid down the length his cock, and his eyes practically crossed at the pulsating warmth and tightness of her.
She’d captivated him. And as she took over from him, sliding up and down, her breasts swaying, her head thrown back, her hair falling out of their pins, she looked like a warrior and he was more than happy to call himself her prisoner.
She was so beautifully responsive, hot and inviting. As she brought them close to completion, Nick ran his palms along her hips. His fingers stretching between to thumb her center, caused her to contract around him. And then it was he throwing back his head shouting as he came at the same time she cried out her release.
* * *
Sara clung to him as she trembled with the aftershocks, sliding slowly back down to earth after the most amazing sex of her life. She wasn’t sure what to say or do now. What was Nick thinking? What in the world was she thinking? Her life was way too complicated already—and now this. She appreciated Nick wanted to help, but worried about Tom. Bad enough that Fiona knew, and was in danger because of them. He would kill Nick for sure, and she couldn’t bear that.
Reluctantly levering herself up and away from his hard body, she worked on straightening her clothes, looking everywhere except at him. After a futile search for her undies she pulled her messed hair back and into a rough twist, and grabbed up her handbag. Backing towards the door, anxious now to escape, she glanced at Nick as he lounged in the chair watching her through narrowed eyes.
“I'm going to get out of your hair, and um…walk home, so don't get up okay?” He looked like sex on a stick. She wanted to stay, but knew she had to leave.
He put his hands on the arms of his chair and seemed about to say something so Sara turned and hurried out, racing across the street to her own little haven. Closing the door, she slid to the floor, right there in the entry, covering her face with her hands.
She couldn’t imagine what he thought of her running out like that. They should have been spending a passion-filled night together. Instead, she’d messed up by telling him her whole sad story. Nick wasn’t the type to let it go. And while she cherished the fact that he wanted to protect Jessica and her, she was more interested in keeping him alive.
Nick didn’t know what Tom was capable of, but she did. All too well.
Thoughts of when she’d found out about her husband’s illegal activities flashed through her mind. After he’d forced himself on her, Tom had taken to treating her like the dirt under his expensive shoes. Her new ‘job’ as he called it, was to bring him his evening meal in his office, where he spent most of his time when at the house. On that night, as Sara reached the half open door, she heard Tom talking angrily to someone on the other side.
“You better not be threatening me, Ramos. I could make your life very difficult. I know everything there is to know about you, even where you hide that pretty wife of yours. And your children, you have very cute little kids, my friend. I would hate to see anything happen to them, Si? Now you make sure everything is prepared on your end and I’ll handle the rest. Don’t forget who’s running this little show, or you won’t like the consequences. The Phoenix plays for keeps.”
Frightened, Sara had turned, wanting nothing more than to run away to her room and hide, but the dishes rattled, alerting him to her arrival. Peeking around the door, she’d seen Tom slam down his cell and type furiously on his keypad.
Her hands sweaty and with a pounding heart, Sara had entered with the tray of food.
At the clatter, Tom glared up at her and snarled, “Well, if it isn’t my mouse of a wife, coming to feed me. Bring it here, woman, before you drop the damn thing.” With a snap of the wrist he shut down his computer from her curious gaze.
Nervous and scared, she’d hurried to his side. Just as she went to set the tray down in front of him, he’d lashed out, grabbing her wrist in a painful grip, and pulling her down to the floor in front of him, the dishes crashing to the carpet.
“What did you hear? How long were you standing there snooping around in things that are none of your goddamned business?” The tone of his voice had climbed with each word, until by the end he was screaming, spittle forming on the corner of his mouth.
Crying out as he grabbed onto her hair and gave it a vicious tug, forcing her head back, she’d pleaded, “I didn’t hear anything! I swear. Please, Tom, you’re hurting me.”
He’d shoved her and stared derisively as she fell backward and scrambled away from him. “You’re such a child, what did I ever see in you? Go. And you’d better keep quiet about this night, or the next time I might not be as nice. Get out of here. And close the fucking door.”
The coolness of the floor anchored her and brought her back to her hallway. Shivers racked her body with remembered terror of that night, one of many she had endured from her loving husband. She didn’t know what her next move would be, only that it couldn’t involve Nick.
Chapter Nine
Nick fell back into his chair with a grunt as Sara went racing out the door as if her hair were on fire. That was new. Usually he was the one looking for excuses to leave after doing the deed. He understood she probably needed some time alone to process everything that had happened tonight, not the least of which they’d had sex. S.E.X. A small word to encompass a life-changing event.
The knot in his stomach, which had been there since she’d shared her story, tightened painfully. What Sara had gone through mixed with that of his mother all those years ago when he’d been a child and couldn’t do much to stop it. He’d failed to protect his mom. He couldn’t fail Sara.
Rubbing a weary hand over the scar at his temple he gazed at the shadows dancing on the wall and his mind slipped back to his time overseas. His team, Adam, Jared, Frank, Steve and him, had just finished a brutal thirty-six-hour mission in Iraq. They were overtired, wired out on adrenalin, and looking to blow off some steam. So, they’d gone into town to a local watering hole, and were working hard at getting pie-eyed drunk.
Jared, Frank, and Steve, their invaluable medic, were sitting in on a game of poker. Frank had a nice stack building in front of him, Jared not far behind. Jared, their technician, was a master at electronics. There wasn’t anything with wires attached, that he couldn’t take apart and put back together again, probably twice as well as it was to begin with. Frank was their leader, SEAL Team Chief, and his solid steadiness when under fire kept the whole team focused and alive. The two of them had been roomies since joining with Uncle Sam, and seemed to know each other’s thoughts without a word ever spoken. Which meant the other three sitting at the table, were going to be hurting by night’s end, without a doubt.
Adam, Nick’s best friend since joining the team, was over in the corner, back to the wall, nursing a beer as his eyes roamed the room, ever watching. His golden boy looks garnered him plenty of attention from the hookers lined up in front of the bar, but he either wasn’t interested, or didn’t notice them. Most of his attention remained focused on the three Iraqis and an American sharing a pipe in a booth near the back. Nick could barely make them out through the smoky haze.
He kept his back planted to the bar, his
gaze on the room, as a leggy brown-haired young woman sidled up to him.
“Hi there, handsome. You look lonely. Care for some company?" She kept her voice warm and welcoming, but her eyes when he glanced at her, spoke something else entirely. There was a world of pain and weariness in those spheres. She set her slender hand onto his forearm, stroking up and down, making it clear what kind of company he could have. For a price. How had she ended up in this godforsaken place? She should have been at home, maybe going to college, dating frat boys, not peddling her wares in this hellhole.
Every few seconds, she would send anxious little glances over her shoulder at the men sitting in the corner. Nick could practically taste her desperation.
Much as he wanted to help her, he wasn’t interested in sex with a kid. “Well, honey, I can't say as I've ever had a nicer offer, but I'm a little too tuckered out to party. How about I buy you a drink? You can sit and tell me a little bit about yourself, instead.”
Gratitude leapt into her eyes. Then, with a frightened look over her shoulder at the back booth, she whispered, “Thank you for your kindness, but I must go now.” Head down, she scurried over to the men's table, where the American grabbed her arm and yanked her down to his lap. She tried to shift away, but he reached around and gave her breast a hard squeeze, laughing when she cried out.
Nick started up off his stool in anger, but caught the Chief's brief head shake. He knew the rules, no interference, but shit, something needed done. Sinking back down, he frowned.
This is bullshit.
A sudden commotion at the poker table caught everyone’s attention. Jared pushed back and stood, his chair wobbling on its uneven legs. He waved his arms in the air, showing everyone his shitty hand of cards. Next thing you know, he’d reached across the table and pulled Steve out of his seat, accusing him of stacking the deck. Of course, then the Chief had to step in and suggest they calm down before he slammed some heads together. Meanwhile, Adam rose from his chair and strolled over to the guy in the corner. Nick wasn’t sure what he said, but after listening for a brief moment, the creep cursed and pushed the girl off his lap to the floor, then dug into his pocket and pulled out a pile of cash, throwing it her way.
Nick grinned as he saw the Chief putting his cell back into his pocket. He must have called it in. If there was one thing the man hated, more even than losing at poker, it was seeing a bully in action. Something to do with his kid brother, Nick had heard through the grapevine.
The American—shit, it was the guy they’d been assigned babysitting duties to—pissed off now, said a few words to the men he'd been sitting with, slid out of the booth, and grey eyes flashing to the girl on the floor still gathering bills, then to Adam, stomped out of the bar. Good riddance, asshole.
Blinking, Nick refocused on his still shadowed walls, dawn's first blush just starting to lighten his blind covered windows, grateful the headaches he used to get with the slow return of his memory had tapered off. For the first couple of months they’d all but crippled him, the pain was so intense. Then as he learned not to force the recollections, to just let them happen, it became easier to bear. That was the first time.
The second time he’d found out while in hospital, his back swathed in bandages, how close he and his new team had come to being toasted. Thanks to Jake, who’d smelled out the bomber, they were alive today. Not everyone had been so lucky. Those were the memories he could have lived without. Seeing a member of his team blown to hell because he’d stopped to help a village child—one who happened to be wearing a bomb—was a nightmare he couldn’t escape. Cliff was one of the best. He’d left behind two little girls who’d never get the chance to walk down the isle with their daddy.
Stiff, he rose out of the chair he’d ended up spending the night in, and wandered over to the window facing Sara's house. His still undone jeans hung low on his hips, reminding him of last night’s pleasure.
He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t. But he wondered what thoughts had been going through her mind, as she rushed to get her clothes on, and get out the door. Was she sorry for confiding in him? Or was this about the two of them?
Wishing now they would have waited, he turned away from the darkened house across the street. Moving towards his room, he stepped on something soft and silky, and bending to pick it up, found Sara’s panties. She’d been in such a rush she hadn’t even grabbed them. They were going to have to talk this out later. He’d give her a little time to rest and then he was going to be at her door, hoping she’d answer it. He threw on a pair of sweats and running shoes and headed out into the brisk morning, Jake by his side.
* * *
Sara woke to the rich aroma of fresh coffee and—was that cinnamon? Rising, she threw on her robe over her bare skin, trying not to notice the still faint marks on her hips made from Nick's fingers holding her in place last night. Last night. If not for those prints and her borrowed dress resting over the end of the bed, she could almost believe she’d dreamt the whole thing.
She’d enjoyed herself with Ty. He’d been sweet, and fun. But then Nick had shown up, like some kind of misplaced white knight come to save the day. Sara had never thought of dancing as a type of foreplay, until last night. Even though Nick had not been the most skilled of partners, he’d swept her away.
Then later, confiding in him about everything––maybe she should have been embarrassed for crying all over his shoulder like that, but instead all she could feel was relief. It’d been bottled up inside, waiting for too long to explode. There had been no time for self-pity. She’d been too busy trying to stay ahead of Tom and his men.
Nick inspired feelings in her she’d never felt before. Even though he aggravated and frustrated her, he had also shown her he could be patient, kind and giving.
The lovemaking had been transcending. Even now, hours later, thoughts of it sent goose bumps shimmying up and down her spine. Sara had always played a passive role in sex. Tom preferred it that way. But with Nick, she had found herself being the aggressor, and she liked the sense of control it gave her.
He’d given her back her self-esteem, and she loved him for it. There, she’d admitted it. She loved him. She’d been sure Tom had killed her ability to care about any other man. Then Nick came into her life and blew that right out of the water. Sitting on the edge of the bed before she fell down, Sara clasped her arms around herself and squeezed.
I’m in love.
Nick was everything that Tom could never be. Honorable, honest, trustworthy. Caring, kind and sexy. No doubt about that. Picturing him sprawled in that rocker last night with his big body sated, lips swollen, shirt off and jeans undone had her warming up all over again. Wanting to apologize for her abrupt departure, which she admitted now had been emotional overload, Sara left her room and headed down the hall to the kitchen, wondering how he’d gotten in.
When she entered the room, instead of a tall, handsome handyman, she found it taken over by her friends, Grace and Tess. They were sitting at the table eating huge cinnamon buns, cups of hot coffee steaming away. That made more sense, if she would have been thinking clearly. Nick couldn’t have gotten in without a key.
“About time you climbed out of there, missy. Or maybe there’s a reason you’d like to share with your good friends, about why you slept in for so long?" Grace teased.
Sara couldn’t help the blush that stole over her cheeks, or the hint of a smile that ghosted across her lips. “Hush you two, Jess will hear you. Where is she anyway?"
“She’s fine, don’t worry your pretty little head. She’s out back playing ball with the dog and a certain blue-eyed hottie we all know and love,” Tess sighed. “I heard a little rumor that things got interesting at La Lune last night. Come on girl, spill.”
Floating over to the coffee machine, Sara poured herself a cup, staring through the window as Jess and Nick played toss. Nick looked as if he had just returned from another run, in sweats that hung low on his lean hips and a sweat-soaked shirt that lovingly hugged his abs. J
ess was laughing at something he’d said, as they watched Jake chasing his tail a few feet away. Her heart swelling, Sara turned back to her friends, catching them grinning at her knowingly.
“You have it bad, don't you, baby girl?”
“What in the world are you talking about, Grace Martin? It was a first date, and Ty was a true gentleman.”
“Oh, I'm sure my nephew was,” Tess replied. “His momma done raised him right. But we're more interested in what happened after Ty was called away. My yogi happened to be there last night and saw the whole thing. She said it was the hottest thing since The Notebook. Details, we want all the juicy details.”
Sara wasn’t sure whether to be more embarrassed, or annoyed that her personal life was gossip central this morning. “So, should I take out an ad in the paper? Dumped woman catches ride home with handsome escort. Kind of catchy, don't you agree?”
“Oh, come on now, honey. You know we care about you, and want to see you happy, that's all. We're a couple of nosey old ladies, trying to live vicariously.” Grace apologized.
“Hey, watch who you call old, you old coot!” Tess countered.
Crossing the room, Sara leaned in and enfolded each woman in a hug. “Neither one of you are old, you’re ageless. I love you both. I’m sorry for jumping down your throats like that. I guess I’m still not used to small town gossiping. In the city no one cares whether you're injured or not, much less who you go out with.”
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