Deadly Fall (20 page)

Augusta stood, hand extended, and took a step toward him, thinking to offer him comfort, before she recalled the hurt betrayal in his voice. Her fingers curled into a tight fist before her arm dropped to her side. “Does she know?”

“After Drew, how I could I measure up?”

Augusta fell back in her seat, her arms wrapped about herself. She bit back the sympathetic words she knew he would only throw back in her face.

“Drew wasn’t a saint.”

He turned to look down at her, his expression somewhere between hurt and bemusement. “You know that. I know that. But Jana saw him as nothing less than perfect.”

Two sets of footsteps softly echoed as they came closer. Augusta cast a glance down the hall to see a grim Nick approaching them with a nurse in blue scrubs at his side.

Adam seemed to stop breathing, and she knew he was fearing the worst.

“Mr. Langan?” The brisk efficiency of the nurse’s voice seemed to reassure him. Adam started to breathe again. “The doctor says you can go in and be with Ms. Westenberg for five minutes. Then he strongly suggests you go home and get some rest.”

He whispered his thanks and, with a final backward glance at Augusta, followed the other woman.

Nick tracked Adam Langan with narrowed eyes until he disappeared inside Jana Westenberg’s room. Then he dropped down next to Augusta. His head fell back against the wall, eyes closed. “Is that coffee?”

At this distance, Nick looked more tired than grim, with shadows about his eyes and lines around his mouth.

“No,” she told him, but pressed the cup in one of his hands anyway. It seemed to be her night for pushing drinks on others.

Nick straightened himself up. He opened his eyes to peer at the contents of the cup, brought it up to his nose to sniff, then he drained it.

“Did you call Langan?”

Augusta looked up, faint surprise on her face. “Adam? No. He and Jana had a…date,” she explained, her voice trailing on the last word as if the concept was foreign to her. She squeezed her hands together. “When she didn’t show, he went by her gallery.”

Nick was silent as he rolled the empty cup between his hands.

“What about Jana?” Augusta asked quietly, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“She’s going to recover. Broken left arm, two cracked ribs, busted left knee, broken right cheekbone. As far as they can tell, no major organs were damaged.”

“Oh, God.” Her hands reached out for purchase. Her left hand found the padded seat beside her and the right found denim-clad thigh. Nick immediately covered her hand with his. She shivered, his heat making her realize just how cold she was.

His voice gentled. “She looks much worse than she actually is because of the bruises and cuts on her face and body. I don’t think whoever attacked her was trying to kill her, but I have someone posted at her door anyway.”

“It’s because of Drew. Everything’s because of Drew.”
Drew, what were you involved in?

He didn’t dispute her, simply continued to rub some warmth back into the slender hand that had gone limp. After long minutes, he rose and tugged her with him. “Let’s go. We both need to get some sleep.”

“Don’t you need to look at the crime scene or anything?” she asked, her voice a little flat, a little lifeless, not quite caring where he lead her as her focus shifted inwards.
Did I lead them to Jana? Would they have left her alone if I had not given her name to Nick? Should I have not gone and talked to her myself?

“A team’s already there.” Nick stopped and, hands squeezing her narrow shoulders, forced her to face him. “Augusta, stop blaming yourself.”

Her lips curved bitterly as she forcefully shrugged his hands off her and backed away from him. “I’m not the only one blaming me.”

She was quiet on the ride back. It wasn’t, however, a peaceful quiet. Nervous, anxious energy thrummed through her system. Augusta fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms to keep from drumming her fingers. Nick hadn’t even turned off the ignition before she was out of her seat. She fumbled with the keys on the way up the front steps. It took her two tries to unlock the door.

She dropped her purse on the floor as she kicked off her shoes. The jacket was shed and joined the purse. The sound of the door closing and locking behind her was abnormally loud in her head. It was almost like a gun going off.

Augusta spun around and closed the distance between her and the startled male.

“Augusta?” Wariness. Uncertainty. He managed another sound before the small hands fisted in his shirt front pulled his head down and his lips to hers.

It took only a moment. Then one hand cupped the base of her skull, the other traveled down her back, pressing every inch of her from chest to thighs into him, while he ravaged her mouth.

A sound of want and need escaped her throat, and Augusta wrapped a slender arm around his neck, wanting to get closer. But he wouldn’t cooperate.

Hard hands squeezed her shoulders, gentled and pushed her away, but they didn’t let her go. Holding her at arm’s length, he bent down, trying to capture her eyes. A short game of cat and mouse ensued before she blinked and met his gaze.

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

She tilted her head back, closed her eyes and tried not to think about how hard she was breathing. Or how hot and tight her pulsing core was.

She opened her eyes and tried her damnedest to focus on him. She got as far as his damp mouth. “Nick, please.” Breathy. Chopped. She lowered her gaze. The pulse in his throat was throbbing as madly as hers.

The small, hard shake he gave her was difficult to ignore.

“I don’t want you using me”—he tightened his hold when she instinctively tried to jerk away—“like last night.”

Frustration was evident in the frown that marred her brow. She took a deep breath. “Why are you making this so complicated?”

“Because I want to mean more to you than Langan.” He bit the words off viciously, eyes boring into hers. “I don’t want to be another ‘friend’ you fuck as a distraction.”

The short, harsh sound of her laughter was just a little reckless. “Trust me, Detective, I don’t think of you as a friend.”

His fingers reflexively dug in. She gasped, but he didn’t respond.

“Then what do you think of me as? A sleeping aid?”

That burst of laughter again that held very little real amusement. “Anything but.”

“Then what?” he demanded.

Afraid he would shake her again, Augusta lifted her hands and clasped his thick wrists. His skin was supple, hair-roughened and hot. His heat seared her, melting her core. She tried to move in closer. He weakened and let her in until she could flick out her tongue and touch him.

She did just that.

The tip of her tongue traveled down the middle of his chest. His groan sounded as if it had been torn from deep within. She stretched on her tiptoes and moved her head to one side, unerringly finding his nipple through the cotton of his shirt. His hands roughly rubbed their way down to her middle arms, stopping just above her elbows. He pulled her closer. Off balance, her hands shot out and landed on the waistband of his jeans. Her mouth opened wider over his nipple as her hands traveled farther down. Her knees nearly buckled at the impressive feel of the heated bulge that met her palms. She rubbed against him in tight circles.

It was Nick’s turn to lose his balance. He fell back against the locked door, legs spread, eyes squeezed shut as he groaned her name. Very deliberately, very lightly, she rubbed her open palm down the length of him. And back up. And back down. And her name became unintelligible.

The harsh, masculine groan barely penetrated the hazy, steamy passion wrapped around Augusta. She was a seething mass of wants and needs. And all she wanted and needed was a visual to go with the impressive erection she was caressing. And taste. He seemed to swell even larger as she continued rubbing him through the rough material of his jeans. Definitely taste.

Panting, she let her head fall, forehead pressing on his sternum, the sound of each strand of her hair rubbing against each other and against his shirt magnified until it was almost as loud as their erratic heartbeats. All her concentration was focused below on her clumsy, clumsy fingers. It took two tries before she popped the button of his jeans. It was a frustrating game of hide-and-seek as she searched for and found the metal tab of his zipper. They both groaned in relief when she managed to pull it down. Her hands shifted back up to his waistband and she dropped to her knees, taking his jeans and boxers with her.

Before the jeans got beyond his knees, Augusta closed her eyes and gave into the demands of her body, enclosing his engorged tip in her mouth.
Oh, God.
Fingers ploughed through her hair, tightened and pressed down, silently begging her to take more of him. She did, sucking in as much of him as she could. Her fingers dug into each side of his hips as she drew back until only his tip remained in the wet cavern of her mouth, her tongue swirling over and around the head. Then back down the wet path until he nudged the back of her throat again. She wrapped one hand around the few inches of him she couldn’t reach, let him feel the edge of her nails. He was like velvet over hot steel in her palm, in her mouth, against her tongue.

Augusta lost herself in the taste and feel of him, barely registering the litany that was a string of her name and curses and praises. She felt the hands trying to tug her mouth away from her pleasure, heard the ragged voice pleading with her to stop and ignored both. She wasn’t going to stop until she tasted his come. As if he read her thoughts, Nick’s control snapped and he went as rigid as a statue. Augusta tasted the salty liquid on her tongue and swallowed and continued swallowing. Only when there was no more did she allow him to pull her up and into his arms, almost enclosing her entirely with his body. His head dropped to her shoulder, and his breath was hot on her skin as he muttered, “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

Augusta tiredly licked her lips, smiled and made a sound of amusement. Then the sound turned sultry when he touched the strip of exposed skin of her back between the waistband of her jeans and the hem of her cropped shirt. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall forward. Wanting her palms against his skin, starting at the bottom, she slowly slipped the buttons of his shirt out of their buttonholes. She took an extra-long time with the last button as her thoughts scattered when large hands smoothed down her back, slipped underneath her top and traveled back up, the rough feel of his hands against her smooth back sending ripples of heat through her once more.

His mouth opened on the sensitive skin of her neck, letting her feel his tongue. Augusta fisted her hands in his open shirt, pulling it taut. He traveled down, wanting the curve of her shoulder, and met fabric. Making an irate sound, he pulled her shirt up and over her head and dropped it at their feet. He shrugged out of his shirt and let it fall as he toed off his shoes and socks. Hands braced against the wall of muscle in front of her, Augusta planted a foot in between Nick’s legs and stepped down, pushing the boxers and jeans down enough for him to step out of them. Free from the confines of his clothes, Nick started on the button-fly of Augusta’s jeans.

By the third button, he made a rough sound and slipped his hand inside her jeans, searched, found her, covered her. She moaned and dug her fingers into his chest. He massaged her through the material of her panties, and she panted, barely able to remain upright.

“Come for me,” he whispered harshly from somewhere above her.

Augusta squeezed her eyes shut tight and struggled not to grind herself into his hand. But try as she might, she couldn’t stop the soft sounds of need from escaping her throat. Her hands fell down to his sides and dug in as he wrapped long fingers around one buttock and pulled her flush against him. The feel of his fingers manipulating her sex and the burning erection still wet from her mouth pressing against her bare middle made her toes curl, her body tighten and her sex spasm.

Tired and her vision blurry, Augusta was only peripherally aware of automatically wrapping her legs about a hard waist as hands lifted her clear off the floor, uncaring of the slides that fell off her feet. Her surroundings spun dizzily around her, so she closed her eyes and rested her head on a broad shoulder, her body still trembling with the aftershocks. Then she was spilled onto a firm but silky surface. A bed. Hands unlocked her ankles and she let her legs fall, dangling over the end of the bed.

At the feel of her jeans being peeled down her legs, Augusta lifted her lashes. A face taut with desire and something darker stared down at her, making all traces of lethargy disappear and tiny spasms go off between her legs.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he said, pulling at her panties. There was a tearing sound and Augusta stopped breathing.

“Move up,” Nick ordered thickly, at last taking in the body completely exposed to him. Her skin was pale, sharply contrasting with the dark V that gleamed with wetness between her thighs. He wanted to put his mouth there, to taste her, lick her. He wanted to so badly his abdominal muscles cramped. But he didn’t think he could last another second of not being inside her.