Coming Apart at the Seams (18 page)

He wanted her to remember him. And he sure as hell didn't want her to remember him as her worst lover.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat up. He took his time untying his shoes before removing them and his socks. He used the activity to bring his body and his mind under control.

He stood and removed his boxer briefs and suit pants, allowing his erection to spring free. Pulling open the top drawer on the nightstand, he removed a box of unopened condoms.

He stared at the box, wondering if it had been a while since she'd needed condoms or if she went through so many she had extra boxes on hand. He clenched his jaw at the thought of her with another man but pushed it out of his mind.

He
was the one who was here now.
He
was the one who was going to spend the entire night inside her.

Me. No one else.

Opening the box, he removed three condoms and placed them on the nightstand. Teagan laughed softly.

“Three? Isn't that a bit optimistic?”

He shook his head. The way he felt right now, the whole box wouldn't be enough.

He crawled over her, kneeling between her legs. He eyed her garter belt and stockings, trying to decide if he wanted to take them off. They were every man's fantasy—his included—and he opted to leave them on.

Hooking his fingers in her lacy panties, he pulled them from her body. She was nearly bare except for a thin strip of dark hair running down the middle of her pussy, and he traced it with the tip of his forefinger.

She widened her legs, and he dipped his finger between the pink folds, groaning when he felt how wet and hot she was. He eased a finger inside her, his vision narrowing when she let out a low moan and rocked against his hand.

Slipping a second finger inside her, he placed his thumb against her clit and stroked lightly. He circled the hard little nub before pressing on it. As more wetness flowed from her body, he pushed his fingers deeper.

“Maybe I wasn't clear enough when I told you I didn't need any foreplay,” she gasped.

He ignored her, flicking her clit with his thumbnail. He thrust his fingers inside her again, pressing deep and pumping in and out.

“I need more than your fingers. I've never been able to come this way.”

Hmm.
That sounded like a challenge, one he couldn't ignore in good conscience.

Withdrawing his fingers, he squeezed her clit between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed up and down, a little trick he'd read about in
Maxim
magazine. She moaned, and he did it again, making her jerk against him.

She was panting, little gusts of breath that let him know he was doing something right. He squeezed her clit harder before pressing his thumb against the bundle of nerves and plunging his fingers deep inside her.

“Oh!” she cried, stiffening. “Oh, my
God
.”

Her pussy clenched on his fingers, the tight ring of muscles vibrating with an intense orgasm. He smiled, immensely pleased he had accomplished something she'd claimed was impossible.

He pushed deeper inside her, flicking his thumbnail over her clit at the same time. She let out a little squeal, and her pussy pulsed against his fingers again.

And that might be number two.

As she whimpered softly, he pulled his fingers from her body to grab a condom. His hands weren't steady, so it took him a little longer than normal to sheath his cock in latex.
When he finally got it on, he quickly settled himself on top of her, hooked her leg over his hip, and thrust deeply inside her.

He moaned as her hot flesh enclosed him. She was unbelievably tight, almost virginal. She cried out, and he froze.

Fuck! Did I hurt her?

He pulled out a little, worried he'd been too rough. He was larger than average, and she had him so revved up, he'd forgotten to be careful with her. He'd forgotten everything but the overwhelming need to be inside her.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and palmed his ass. Digging her nails into his cheeks, she pressed him deeper as she raised her hips.

“Oh, you feel so good,” she breathed. “You're so big. I can feel you everywhere.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to ignore her voice. He was almost senseless with pleasure, and every word out of her mouth pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

He pulled out to sink into her again, and she tightened her legs around his hips. He tried to find a rhythm, but he was too far gone to do anything but plunge erratically into her.

He'd never felt like this before. His body was completely out of his control, driven solely by instinct rather than intellect. He dropped his head to kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he nudged deeply inside her body.

She moaned his name against his lips. “I'm coming again,” she gasped.

Her words sent him over the edge. Cupping her hips in his hands, he thrust hard against her. He climaxed in a blinding rush, the pleasure edging to pain as his cock jerked inside her again and again.

Shuddering, he collapsed on top of her. He'd never come so hard. His ears rang and his vision was dark and blurry.

He buried his face in her fragrant hair, breathing heavily as she stroked her hands over his back and sucked his earlobe. He shivered from the heat of her mouth, his cock twinging. He groaned in disbelief. It wasn't possible for him to want her again. He was barely conscious.

“That
definitely
was worth waiting for,” she whispered into his ear.

Teagan's flight from Boston to San Francisco was on time, and she had to be at the airport in less than an hour. But first she was going to stop by Nick's condo. She hadn't seen him or talked to him in more than a month, not since the night of her birthday dinner. But she really needed a shoulder to cry on, and his shoulder was the one she wanted most of all.

Quinn had called her last night to drop the bomb that their dad had colon cancer, and she was flying home so she could be with her family when they met with his oncologist. Her misguided parents had planned to wait to tell her until after they'd met with the doctor because they hadn't wanted to disrupt her final weeks of school. But Quinn had shared the bad news, not only because he was a good brother but also because he knew she would have torn him apart if he'd kept it from her.

The town car glided to a stop in front of a three-story brownstone, and her gaze settled on the black numbers next to the bright red door. She'd never been to Nick's home, but Quinn had texted the address to her.

The driver jumped out and ran around to open her door. As she exited the car, she warned him she wasn't sure how long she would be.

She reached the top of the stairs and pulled in a deep
breath, trying to calm her stomach. Ever since she'd received Quinn's call, she had fought nausea. Sometimes when she was really stressed, her stomach freaked out, and she was more upset than she'd ever been in her life from the combined worry about her dad and the situation with Nick.

Their night together had been intense and intimate, and she'd been emotionally raw and physically exhausted the next day. He'd left her condo while she'd been sleeping, and she knew him well enough to understand he was having a hard time dealing with the shift in their relationship. He hadn't called, and he hadn't texted, and she hadn't tried to contact him, either, because she'd convinced herself that he needed time to adjust.

She'd made it through midterms, and she had tried to enjoy spring break in Bora Bora with Bebe. But she'd checked her phone fifty times a day, hoping she would hear from Nick.

As the days had gone by with no word from him, she'd wondered if she was fooling herself.

Maybe he didn't need time to adjust. Maybe she was just another forgettable lay in a long line of one-night stands. She really didn't believe he would treat her like that, though.

She used the brass knocker hanging on the door, and moments later, the door swung open. A tall, gorgeous blonde filled the doorway, and Teagan double-checked the numbers beside the door.

“I'm sorry. I must have the wrong address. I'm looking for Nick Priest.”

The young woman tilted her head, her long, honey-colored hair falling over her shoulders. She was dressed casually in black yoga pants, a formfitting red T-shirt, and ballet flats.

“You have the right address. How do you know Nick?”

Teagan frowned as the sick feeling in her stomach crawled up her throat. She swallowed, trying to push down the nausea.

“We're fr . . . is he here?”

“I'm Vanessa. And you are?”

“Teagan O'Brien.”

Vanessa eyed Teagan, her silvery-gray gaze assessing. She opened the door wider and stood to the side.

“Come in,” she invited, waving Teagan inside.

Teagan stepped into the foyer, and Vanessa closed the front
door with a sharp click before turning toward her. “Can I take your jacket?”

She shook her head, pulling the jacket closer to her body. Suddenly, she was freezing, almost as if she had the flu again. She brushed her hand over her forehead, which was beaded with sweat. Her body didn't seem to know if it was hot or cold.

Vanessa shrugged and turned to head down the hall. When Teagan hesitated, she stopped, her eyebrows raised.

“Coming?” she asked.

Teagan trailed after Vanessa, wondering who the hell she was, why she acted like she belonged in Nick's condo, and why she was there so early in the morning.

The blonde led her into a large, high-ceilinged living area. A set of brown leather furniture filled the space, and she gestured to a chair.

“Have a seat. Nick's in the shower, but I'll let him know you're here so he can hurry. He takes the longest showers.”

How did Vanessa know such a personal detail? Teagan didn't know that about him. Her stomach lurched at the evidence she and Vanessa were both members of Nick's harem.

“Bathroom?”

Vanessa pointed toward a hallway on the other side of the room, and Teagan dashed toward it. She barely made it before she threw up her breakfast in painful heaves. She huddled on the floor against the toilet, her eyes stinging and her ears ringing.

Finally, her stomach settled, and she rose to clean up. She rinsed her mouth and wiped away the mascara that rimmed her eyes before running the sleeve of her jacket under the water because there was vomit on it.

She checked her hair before pulling it into a ponytail and did a final review in the full-length mirror. Her face was ghost white, and her eyes were red-rimmed. Even worse, they also had dark circles under them because she hadn't slept last night after Quinn's phone call.

Isn't it just fabulous I'm going to see Nick when I look like shit?

Of course she'd get sick at his house instead of in the comfort of her own condo. She had never felt such a horrible lack of control over her emotions. She was coming apart at the seams.

It had been a terrible idea for her to show up at Nick's condo unannounced, even though he did it to her all the time. She had never imagined one of his women would be here. She'd been almost sure he never brought women home.

Although she had known it was unlikely, she'd nurtured the hope that Nick wanted to have a relationship with her. Vanessa's presence in his condo certainly nipped those hopes in the bud.

So many emotions swirled though her, but the strongest one was despair. She'd taken a risk, hoping Nick wanted her for more than one night, and it hadn't paid off.

She was tempted to stay in the bathroom, but eventually she took a deep breath and made her way back down the hall toward the living area. She stopped abruptly when she saw Nick. He stood in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest.

He wore a Colonials T-shirt and ratty black athletic pants. His feet were bare, and his hair was wet from his shower. He radiated health, which made her feel even more wretched.

Her stomach lurched again when she saw his face. His lips were compressed, and his eyes were distant. She continued into the room, stopping a couple of feet away from him.

They stared at each other for several heartbeats, and she wished he would wrap his arms around her and give her the comfort she so desperately craved. She was scared, and she needed him.

“Hi,” she said, her voice raspy from anxiety and her earlier bout of vomiting.

He didn't respond to her greeting, and she nervously wiped her sweaty hands on the front of her jacket, her heart thudding heavily. “I'd hoped that you would be glad to see me, but obviously you're not.”

His facial expression didn't change, and he didn't respond. He'd never been cold and unfriendly with her, and his lack of warmth made her heart ache. She told herself to leave before she made the situation worse. But her damn mouth opened anyway.

“I thought you just needed time to accept what happened between us, but you clearly regret our night together.”

He nodded, humming a little before he spoke. “Mistake.”

She sucked in a breath, feeling as if he'd punched her in the stomach. She didn't know what she'd expected, but it wasn't this.

“Why?”

He pressed his lips together but didn't answer her question. Panic built in her chest, making it difficult to pull in a deep breath.

“Talk to me, damn it,” she demanded, her voice thick.

He looked up at the ceiling, obviously wishing he were anywhere but here with her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to blink them back.

“It wasn't a mistake,” she said, hating the desperation in her voice. “We're good together.”

He shook his head slowly. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the sleeve of her jacket, the one she hadn't vomited all over.

He cleared his throat. “Forget.”

“Forget?” she repeated incredulously. “You want me to forget that you touched every inch of my body? You want me to forget what you feel like inside me? Is that what you want me to forget, Nick?”

Her voice had risen with each question, yet his expression hadn't changed. He nodded.

“I don't want to forget it. It was the best night of my life.”

She wasn't exaggerating. And it wasn't an exaggeration to say the past twenty-four hours had been the worst day of her life.

“It meant something,” she added.

He shook his head slowly, and a wave of anger washed over her. He had to be lying.

“Yes, it did,” she countered. “It meant something to me. And it meant something to you, too. I know you care about me.”

He shook his head again, and she swallowed thickly. Did he know he was destroying her?

“It wasn't just sex for me,” she whispered. “I'm in love with you.”

His eyes widened, a mix of incredulity and disgust on his handsome face, and he dropped his hands to his sides. He backed away from her, and she closed the space between them.

Placing her hands on his chest, she looked up at him. “I don't want to lose you.”

She hated herself for begging, but words broke free from her heart and spilled out of her mouth. “It's okay if you don't want to be with me—if you don't feel the same. We can still be friends. I promise it can be like it used to be.”

She meant every word she said. She would take whatever he was willing to give her.

Shaking his head, he gripped her wrists and gently pulled her hands off his chest. “No.”

“What?” she gasped. “You don't even want to be friends anymore?”

“No,” he repeated, releasing her hands.

She shook her head in disbelief, unwilling to accept what he had said. “But why?”

He stared into her eyes for a long moment before turning on his heel and striding from the room. Seconds later, Vanessa joined Teagan, a bottle of water in her slender hands. She handed it to her before gesturing toward the front of the condo.

“Nick asked me to show you out. He wanted me to say good-bye for him.”

*   *   *

“It's going to be okay,
kanya
.”

Teagan looked at Bebe, who perched on the edge of the bathtub. Her vision wavered a little bit, and her best friend patted her knee.

“Breathe, Teagan.”

Teagan nodded, shifting on top of the hard lid of the toilet. She took a deep breath, trying to breathe through her mouth rather than her nose so she wouldn't throw up again.

She placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter, lining it up with the other three tests that were already there. All four had big plus signs on them.

Congratulations! You're pregnant!

She'd had no idea she was pregnant even though she had been fighting nausea off and on for weeks, along with exhaustion. She had thought it was stress-related. Her emotions had been all over the place, something she'd also attributed to stress. She'd been bitchy one moment and teary-eyed the next.

Bebe must have noticed Teagan's moodiness because this evening after class, she'd shown up at her condo with a bottle of wine and a plastic bag printed with the name of the local drugstore. Teagan had reached for the wine, intending to open it, but Bebe handed her the bag instead, saying, “This first, and then we'll see about the wine.”

Teagan had peeked inside the bag, expecting chocolate. She laughed incredulously when she saw the pregnancy tests inside it.

“There's no way I'm pregnant,” she had said, supremely confident.

Bebe had raised her eyebrows at Teagan's claim. “Go pee on a stick,
kanya
, and then we'll talk,” she'd said, pointing toward the bathroom.

Turned out that Teagan wouldn't be drinking any wine that night, or for the next nine months.

“You have to tell Nick.”

“I know,” she replied before starting to cry again.

Bebe leaned forward, wrapping her arm around Teagan and pulling her close. She rubbed her hand up and down Teagan's arm.

“You've always said you wanted kids,” Bebe reminded her. “In fact, you said you wanted a lot of kids.”

“I know. But I never envisioned being a single mother. I wanted a husband, and I wanted my kids to have a father.”

“Your baby has a father.”

Yes, her baby had a father. A man who used women and threw away friends like garbage. A man whom she loved more than anything or anyone.

She hiccupped, and Bebe handed her a tissue so she could wipe her eyes. She dabbed them and looked up to meet Bebe's golden gaze.