Restoring Hope (15 page)

“I’m about two seconds from ripping your clothes off,” Nic told her to break the mood. He didn’t want to take her in his car. He wanted her in bed where he had room to move, room to lick her body from toe to ear.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“You can, but not tonight while your head is injured,” he told her leaning in again, flicking his tongue across her lips. “And when I take you it will be slow and exhausting. I want you rested,” Nic explained against her lips and her response was immediate, “Oh, God.”

Nic smiled and shook his head “Oh, no, baby, there is no God involved. Just you, me, and the things I’m gonna do to that sweet body of yours.” He punctuated his answer by placing both hands on the side of her face, lowering her mouth to his, and kissed her once again until his own desire was quenched enough he could let her go.

Once he’d had his fill of her; Nic opened his door and helped Hope out. Turning her towards her door, they walked hand-in-hand, neither talking the whole way. At her door, he used his key to open it and turned off the alarm. When Hope entered she was still dazed, and he liked that look on her best of all. Needing more of her sweet lips, Nic grabbed her at the waist and pulled her to him. Her hands slammed into his chest as he leaned down and took her mouth again, backing her into the wall. He couldn’t get close enough, wanted her wrapped around him, but he needed to go slow. So this time he moved his hand under her shirt, finding one of her breasts, and then he rubbed his thumb across the taut peak. Hope moaned low in her throat, and melted into him as his thumb flicked her nipple. Her own hands went up the back of his shirt, running her nails down his back, and Nic growled in approval. He then moved to her neck and bit down, giving her a taste of things to come, and Hope gasped in pleasure. Satisfied he had her attention, that she knew exactly what to expect from him, he moved to her ear, nibbled the lobe and whispered “I’m gonna leave now,
ma douce amour
. You have sweet dreams, baby.”

Without another word, Nic slowly removed his hand from her breast, his fingers brushing lightly down her side as he stared into her sky-blue eyes. Hope shivered at his touch but held his eyes, her expression one of shock and amazement. He took her hand, raised it to his mouth, and his tongue darted out to taste the sweet skin before he walked her to the door. Once there, Nic was all business as he opened it, leaned in and kissed her gently then walked out, looked back at her and ordered, “Lock it and set the alarm.” He waited for her to close the door, grinning at her dazed expression. Hope nodded, said nothing, then shut the door, and set the alarm all while in a trance like state. She stood there a moment her thoughts racing, and then leaned back, slid down the door, brought a hand to her mouth and whispered “Oh, my God.”

Chapter Eleven

Pacing her living room, surrounded by priceless antiques that she’d once thought were so damn important she’d taken a trip to France just to buy, Kat needed a plan. No way was she gonna let some cheap floozy come between her and Nic reconciling. She knew if he’d just forgive her for her silly transgressions they could be a family again. However, that two-bit harlot with her bright eyes and pert little nose could put a snag in her plans she just knew it.

She needed information, needed to find something she could use against the woman and send her packing. Her momma taught her to fight fire with fire, and if the look on Nic’s face when she got hurt were any indicator of his feelings, she’d need an inferno. She knew she couldn’t ask Nic, and that old woman Rose hated her, so that was out of the question. Still pacing, she thought about Big Daddy a moment; he was a man, maybe she could bat her eyes at him and sweet-talk the information out of him? Continuing to pace she realized that wouldn’t work either, she couldn’t get close enough to him without Rose seeing, and that old Cajun was like a mother bear when it came to people she cared about.

Wandering into the kitchen where Nicky was, still plotting, she paused when she saw his face, and she forgot about the blonde for a moment. She could tell he was upset. Confiding in Nic about Chelsea had taken a toll on her precious boy, and she hated that he’d carried that burden with him. He was so much like his father, handsome, smart, and extremely loyal. Running her fingers through his hair and then leaning in, kissing his head, drinking in his smell, she felt her throat close a bit. She had been so busy chasing men, looking for her youth, that she’d missed the signs that Chelsea was using drugs. It never occurred to her that her perfect princess would do something like that. She’d raised her to be a lady, debutant balls, Saturdays at tearooms learning the fine art of manners all young women should have. Her own momma had done the same for her, she was just passing on those traditions all southern women do. Apparently, she should have been talking to Chelsea, finding out more about her daughter instead of assuming she was fine. Looking at Nicky, she wondered if she should talk to him, maybe ask if he’s doing okay, and make sure he didn’t need to talk.

“You doin’ okay, my sweet boy?”

“Yeah, it was good to finally tell Chelsea’s secret.”

“Is there, uh, anything you need to talk about?’’ Kat didn’t know how to talk to her son, but she figured she’d better learn.

“Naw, I’m good. I already told Dad that I won’t use drugs, not after what happened to Chelsea.”

Kat stared at her son, thought about him telling Chelsea’s secret, and it occurred to her it was at the hospital while they waited on that woman. Of course, Kat being Kat, her mind moved from concern for her son to how to win her husband back.

“Nicky?”

“Yeah?”

“Your friend . . . that sweet woman who got hit in the head is she from around here?”

Nic sat at his desk staring out the window. His mind was on sweet lips and blues eyes he could get lost in. His chest was tight, but not from loss for once. The tightness stemmed from emerging feelings he’d tried to ignore, tried to suppress in his waking hours but fell victim to in his dreams. He’d left Hope a few hours ago speechless, flustered and aroused. His lip twitched when he thought of how dazed she’d been standing there with swollen lips, her hair a mess from his hands running through it. She’d been more devil than angel, at that moment, and he could feel himself grow hard at the memory of her lips.

His reluctance to get involved with Hope had vanished; the barrier he’d put between them had fallen with a resounding thud. His instinct to kiss her, touch her, bury himself in her was too strong to ignore, and he gave into it. Now that he had, he felt a calm like he hadn’t felt in a year.

He had no doubt she was downstairs trying to figure out a way to keep him at arm’s length. Now that he’d tasted her, had her in his arms, felt her heart beating in sync with his own and had returned his kiss as if only he could give her the air in her lungs, there was no turning back.

He looked at the clock on his desk and saw it was after midnight. Sitting next to the clock were two pictures, one of Nicky and one of Chelsea. He reached forward, grabbed the frame with Chelsea’s picture and traced his finger along her face. Her smiling eye’s stared back at him. She was happy then, just a girl who wanted to be popular, but she’d gone about it the wrong way. He’d always thought they were close, thought he’d taught her self-worth. He couldn’t comprehend that his
‘tite ange
would use drugs to be popular. To escape some sort of pain he could almost understand, but this? “
Ma jolie fille, ma coeur,
why?” he whispered, but like always he got no answer.

Replacing the picture, he stood from his desk and walked to the window looking out at the street below. Rain was falling, the lights of passing cars reflecting off the water. He leaned against the windowsill and looked towards the cloud-covered sky. No stars or moon could be seen, just gray clouds illuminated by distant lightning. He caught movement on the sidewalk below and squinted his eyes searching the darkness. He heard Hope’s door close and then watched as she struggled with her bags heading for the gate. “Fuck,” Nic hissed then turned, knocked his desk as he passed, and his kid’s pictures fell over as he ran for the front door.

Struggling to drag her bag through the gate, Hope didn’t hear Nic before he was right behind her. She jumped when he grabbed her arm and swung her around, his dark eyes angry.

“Going somewhere?” he ground out.

Gone was the man who had kissed her senseless, and in his place was a man who looked almost dangerous.

“I have to go,” was all she could say. She couldn’t tell him the truth; she wasn’t sure she knew the truth.

“You’re not going anywhere, not now, not ever.”

“Nic, I have to.”

Reaching down he pulled a bag from her hand, grabbed her arm and started walking her back to the condo, but he veered right towards the stairs that led to his upstairs unit. Hope panicked and pulled back locking her legs.

“No, I have to go,” she shouted just as they reached the rock wall that partitioned off his stairs and the garden from the street.

With rain streaming down his face, Nic dropped her bag and wheeled around, getting closer, and barked out, “You made a promise to me, and you’re not breaking it.”

“What promise?” she whispered, watching, as he got closer still, leaning in intimidating her.

“The promise of something beautiful at the end of the day, the promise of you,” he whispered. “I’ve been in a fuckin’ nightmare for over a year and you stumbled into my life and turned me on my head. You gave me sweet; you gave me sass, and you gave me a fuckin’ headache from wanting you and tonight you gave me you, I’m holding you to that.”

He raised his hands to her face, and both thumbs caressed her cheeks. Hope closed her eyes at the pain she saw in his eyes and tried to steel her nerves. She started shaking her head no, her bottom lip trembling with emotions, “Please,” she whispered, “Please let me go.”

“Baby, I’d rather cut off my right hand than let you walk out that gate.”

Nic leaned down to kiss her, but Hope stepped back, blanking her face, setting the lie in place so he’d believe her.

“I’m sorry, Nic, but the attraction is one-sided. You’ve been wonderful to me; everyone has, but it’s time to move on before it gets messy.”

Staring at her, his face unreadable, he gently shook his head in disbelief and then bent to pick up her bag, and then replied, “You’re a shit liar.” She couldn’t reply without crying, so with her stony expression in place she put out her hand to take her bag.

With Hope’s bag in his hand, Nic raised it up, tossed the bag further away, then grabbed both her arms, and spun her behind the covered patio blocking them from prying eyes.

Hope gasped, dropped her other bag and put her hands on his chest to shove him off, but he leaned in pinning her to the wall of his garden.

“What are you doing?” Hope shouted and then struggled to get free. Panic rose up her throat, memories of violent hands on her creeping in.

“Explaining something to you,” he rumbled in a low graveled voice and then leaned his whole body into her.”

“Just say it,” she begged, needing to get away, far away.

Nic didn’t say a word; he grabbed her face and slammed his mouth over hers as she inhaled in surprise. His hard body kept her pinned as he kissed her, stoking the fire that had been simmering below the surface since he left. She tried to resist, knew she had too or she’d never leave, but he was relentless. He was making a point, proving her the liar she was and with her shields down, she gave up the fight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in cursing her weakness for this man.