Dark Deceptions (21 page)

She’d have stayed until the maelstrom descended, but then her mother, realizing she was missing, had pulled her back into
the house. At the time she’d been angry, certain her mother lived to ruin her life. But now, as a mother herself, Annie realized
the danger she’d been in, and that her mother’s anger had been the result of fear for her child.

She smiled, remembering her mother. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell her perfume—
L’air du temps
.

Or maybe it was just the roses.

Her mother had been the one bright spot in her life. Laughing, loving. Always there for her. Until the cancer took her away,
emaciating her body, eroding her mind. And then Annie’s father had shown up, taking everything but his daughter, his rejection
still haunting her after all this time.

“I’m sorry,”
he’d said, his voice cold and distant,
“but there’s no room in my life for a kid. I told your mother that over and over again. And now that she’s gone—well, you’ll
just have to find your own way, won’t you? Men like me aren’t made for family and kids. Your momma never understood that.”

He’d turned then and walked away, leaving her sitting on the porch of an empty house, never once looking back. In the space
of a heartbeat, Annie had been forced to face the fact that she was truly on her own. She’d been nine years old, and her first
great life lesson had been driven home. Count on no one but yourself. Ever.

The sky splintered with light, the air crackling with electricity. Walking out into the garden, she lifted her chin, letting
the storm carry her away from pain and rejection of the past, from the nightmare that threatened her present.

The thunder echoed through the garden, the roses shimmering in the wind. She raised her head to the sky, the cold breeze washing
across her face. She couldn’t change the past, but she could protect her child.

The wind whipped through her hair, the first drops of rain falling like a fine mist against her skin. She breathed deeply,
the cool air filling her lungs, filling her soul. Clearing her head. There was no going back. No matter how many times she
considered the possibility, the answer was always the same.

The risk was too great. She could never allow Adam to be hurt the way she had been. It was her job to protect him. And that’s
exactly what she’d continue to do. Nothing had changed. Nash had made that more than clear. Still, her heart was having trouble
accepting the fact. There were so many wonderful memories. But none of them negated the fact that he’d made his feelings clear—no
relationships. Like her father, he wasn’t that kind of man.

Annie shivered as the wind wailed through the fence boards. Staying here, close to Nash, was a mistake. She needed to go.
To walk away. To take Adam and simply disappear again. To hell with the danger. She’d manage. She always did. All she had
to do was pack her things and walk out the door.

But instead, here she sat, in Nash’s rose garden, watching the lightning slice through the sky. Maybe she was a coward. Or
maybe she just didn’t want to say good-bye—
again
.

“Annie?” His voice reached out through the darkness, caressing her. “I see you still like storms.”

“You were right,” she said, still struggling to keep her demons at bay. “Some things never change.”

“Are you okay?” His brow knotted in a way she remembered so well. She’d known every nuance in those days. Every quirk of the
eyebrow and tilt of the lips.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, I’m not.” She hated the idea of admitting weakness. But somehow, here in the face
of the storm, she couldn’t find the strength to lie.

“Oh, Annie,” he said, coming to sit beside her, the soft lilt of his voice almost as good as a kiss. “I wish I had the power
to make it all go away.”

“You know,” she sighed, “there was a time when I actually believed that you could, but I was a fool. And you’d think that
by now I’d have gotten over it—
over you
.”

“Some connections are hard to sever.”

“And harder to forget.” Lightning flashed as the thunder rolled, the rain so close it teased them.

He lifted a hand, his fingers cupping her face. “You look just the same.”

“You’re blind.” She laughed, the feel of his palm against her skin bordering on heaven.

Time stretched between them, the past and the present blending together until she couldn’t tell the difference anymore. The
only thing that existed was the two of them and the storm.

The wind lashed through the garden, the trees and bushes bending in protest, but Annie only lifted her face.

With a groan, Nash took possession of her lips, and she sighed, the taste of him more heady than the finest of wines. She’d
forgotten how much she loved the feel of his body against hers. How much she reveled in the strength of his fingers twining
in her hair.

She opened her mouth, their tongues dueling, the choreography so familiar she ached with the contact. He deepened the kiss,
and she accepted him. Familiar and yet foreign.

“Annie,” he whispered, and she pressed against him, desperately needing to feel him hard against her.

His lips stroked hers, feeding the fire burning deep inside her. Some part of her, the part that still made sense, called
for her to stop. But God help her, she didn’t want to. There would be time for regret. But not now. Not here.

Lightning split the sky, the crescendoing thunder chasing behind it. The fury of the storm fed their fire. His hands cupped
her breasts as he kissed her, his thumbs circling, desire mixing with pleasure until she could hardly breathe.

“Annie,” he whispered again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice hoarse with desire. “I’ve missed you so damn much.” It was far more than she’d ever meant to
admit. But in this moment, with him touching her, there was no turning back. He reached to pull her into his arms, to take
her inside, but she shook her head. “I want it here. Now. In the rain.”

“What about your leg?” He frowned. “You’re hurt.”

“I told you before, I’m fine.” She tipped her head back, the wind lashing through her hair. “Better than fine, actually.”

His teeth were white against the night as he laughed. “In the storm, then.”

And, as if cued, the rain fell, lashing against them with a violence only nature could emanate.

He smiled and pulled her close, his lips making hot tracks against her neck. She pushed against him, wanting to feel closer—to
feel a part of him, if only for a moment.

His mouth moved lower, tracing the line between her neck and breast. She arched upward, needing more, and he obliged, sucking
her nipple, the resulting heat almost her undoing.

There was something to be said for solitude, but for the life of her, with Nash touching her in the exact way that he was,
she’d forgotten why. She arched back, offering herself, and he slid his hand beneath the soft cotton of her sweatpants, his
fingers hot as they moved against her skin. While gently biting her nipple, he slid a finger inside her, the friction setting
off shivers of pleasure. She fought for breath, even as she pressed closer.

Wanting more.
Wanting him
.

It had been so long.

He lifted his head, his smile rakish as his fingers began to move faster and faster until she thought she’d die of sheer joy.

“Tell me what you want,” he said as he bent, his kisses blending with the rain as he stroked her neck with his tongue. His
finger moving in and out. Each succeeding stroke—deeper. Stronger.

“Tell me, Annie.”

“You,” she whispered, her voice snatched away by the wind. “I want you, Nash. Only you.”

The thunder drowned out her moans as the rain and his mouth and his fingers played her like a finely tuned instrument, pulling
the string tighter and tighter, higher and higher, until she felt herself falling, pleasure careening through her in shuddering
waves.

“Please,” she rasped. “Please. I want more. I want you inside me.”

Again the thunder rocked through the garden, the sound taking on almost physical proportions. With a crooked smile, Nash lifted
her into his arms, cradling her close, kissing her forehead, her cheeks—her lips. His touch infinitely gentle, as if she were
his most precious possession. As she shuddered against him, he caressed her, pressing her close with murmured words, nonsensical
nothings that held more meaning than any sonnet could ever possess.

Then, eyes burning with passion, he carried her to the gazebo, laying her on a cushioned chaise as the rain fell like a silvery
curtain all around them, the cool air scented with roses and geraniums.

She sat up, straddling the lounger, and smiled up at him, running her hands along the curve of her breasts, letting her fingers
trail across the swollen flesh at the juncture of her thighs. And then she reached for the hem of her T-shirt, sliding it
slowly upward, undulating to the rhythm of the rain. With a slow smile, she pulled it over her head, her hair swinging free
as she tossed the shirt aside.

His intake of breath was audible as he watched her hungrily. And she rose to her feet, pushing her sweats over her hips, twisting
so that they fell to her feet. Then, after stepping out of them, she waited as he closed the distance between them and reached
out to skim his palms along the bare skin of her breasts, his teasing touch promising so much more.

With a strangled gasp, she reached for his shirt, popping buttons in her haste to free him from his clothes and feel his skin
next to hers. He shrugged out of his shirt, and with fumbling hands, she helped him remove his pants. And finally—finally,
there was nothing between them but the moist night air.

They moved together almost as one, the fierce longing in her heart reflected in his eyes. His mouth possessed hers as she
closed her fingers around the hard heat of his penis, the velvety skin moving with her hand. Up and down. Up and down. Desire
pierced through her, her own need building again, the fire inside her licking at her as she fought to contain it. To keep
her focus on pleasuring
him
.

Pulling him closer, she traced the line of his teeth with her tongue, then thrust it deep inside his mouth, the motion a prelude—a
mirror image of things to come. Then, with a wicked grin, she pushed him back onto the chaise, kneeling beside him as he rolled
toward her, offering himself.

Lightning split through the sky, illuminating the rugged planes of his body, and she reached out to trace the jagged line
of a scar. So many memories. With a soft sigh, she took him in her mouth, tongue circling, the salty smell and taste of him
intimately familiar. Circling the base of his erection with her hand, she moved her fingers in time with her mouth in syncopated
rhythm. Moving slowly at first and then faster and faster, feeling him harden beneath her touch, his pulse blending with hers
as she sucked him.

Then suddenly she felt him tense, his hands tightening on her shoulders as he pushed her back, lifting her to her feet.

“I want to be inside you,” he growled, his eyes dark with passion.

“Patience,” she said, enjoying her moment of power. Turning her back, she straddled him, taking him in one downward thrust,
the feel of his throbbing penis sliding inside her almost too wonderful to bear.

Arms braced on the chaise, she gyrated slowly, reveling in the feel of him moving inside her. Then, with a murmured oath,
Nash grabbed her hips and pushed her downward, the pressure exquisite as he took control. For a moment, they balanced on the
edge of the cliff. Then, in perfect tandem, they began to move in earnest, her hips pushing downward as he arched up to meet
the motion, their slick heat combining, friction sending tendrils of pleasure curling through her body, the sensation ratcheting
up, stroke by stroke, as she tightened around him.

This was what she remembered. What she dreamed about. Not just the pleasure, but the belonging. The joining. No longer two
souls, but one.

His right hand teased her nipples, while his left moved downward, stroking her, matching the harried rhythm of their thrusting.
And then his fingers slid lower, his thumb slipping inside, stroking the tiny heart of her desire.

Gasping with pleasure, she bucked against him, the movement driving him deeper inside, and she tightened her muscles, wanting
to hold him—stroke him—to give him as much as he was giving her.

“You ready?” he whispered, the touch of his breath against her ear almost as sensual as his sinewy movements inside her.

“Yes,” she sighed, pressing downward, wanting only to pull him deeper still. “Please, Nash. Oh, please.”

His arms circled around her, anchoring her to him as he thrust upward, impaling her with his strength, their bodies fusing
together as they moved faster and faster, their movements frenzied as they followed a sequence older than time.

Lightning flashed and the thunder roared, and the night shattered into shards of blinding white heat. Nash’s fingers closed
around hers as he shifted for one last powerful thrust. She screamed his name as he drove deeper, taking her over the edge.

Her vision exploded into fire. White on white. Everything going blank as sensation overrode all rational thought. There was
only the two of them, together. Nothing else mattered.

At least for now.

Annie rolled over, reaching for Nash in the dark. After the storm had subsided—in more ways than one—they’d moved inside to
his bedroom and made love again, this time more slowly and sensuously. New memories. Annie smiled, then sobered, as her hand
met an empty pillow.

No Nash.

Frowning, she glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was still relatively early. Just past midnight. Climbing out
of the bed, she slipped into one of Nash’s shirts and headed out into the hallway toward Adam’s room.

He’d managed to kick off his covers, and true to form had flipped around in the bed so that his feet were on his pillow. Annie
gently slid the pillow from under his toes and placed it under his head. He sighed once, then snuggled against the blanket
as she covered him once again. There was a normalcy to the action that brought tears to her eyes. Her little boy.