Sweet Seduction Serenade (31 page)

He cocked his head at me, a small sexy smirk on his face. Then he rolled his hips, pushing himself back inside. I felt him hardening again, which made me squeeze my thighs tight together in response. He pulled me away from the vanity and walked me to the tiled wall, then pressed my body flat against it. The cold tiles stung my heated chest and stomach, and then he pressed his hard chest against my back and I moaned. The temperature difference from my front to my back was exquisite. I'd never felt anything like it before.

"Once is not nearly enough, angel," he whispered in my ear, starting to roll his hips rhythmically.

His hands came down and clasped mine, then lifted them, fingers entwined, to above my head on either side. His entire body encased me against the wall, from top to bottom I was contained by his frame, by this man, who left me breathless and panting for more. He didn't stop his steady pace; sliding in and out. Already he was fully erect again, stretching me deliciously wide.

"I want to turn you around so I can kiss the fuck out of you, but I can't pull away for even a second to reposition your body," he declared through the rhythmic thrusts. "Are the tiles too cold?" he asked, concern lacing his words.

"They're warming up," I breathed out between his thrust.

"Eight years I've dreamed about you, Eva. And now I can have you whenever I want, however I want. And I can't fucking get enough."

I groaned as his lips trailed down the side of my neck.

"How else do you want me?" I found myself asking.

"This not doing it for you, babe? We can change it up."

"No this is good, I have no idea why I asked that question," I admitted, a little stunned I'd interrupted the moment at all.

He laughed against my skin, a hot huff of air that sent further shivers down my entire body.

"Fuck," Nick rasped. "I am so fucking crazy for you." A few more thrusts, then, "Let's try this."

He pulled us away from the wall, still somehow managing to continue to thrust inside me as though any break in that motion was simply impossible.

"Bend over and wrap your hands around your ankles," he instructed. "The head rush will add to your orgasm." I did
not
want to think about how he'd learned that.

So, I just did what he said. Oh good Lord, did he feel like he was going so deep this way. I groaned on every single thrust he made; slow, strong,
deep
.

"You like that, angel?" he asked.

"God yes," I managed on another groan. Nick laughed. He'd laughed a lot that first night we'd spent together too. The fact he hadn't lost his ability to enjoy life, to live in the moment and have fun, was an immense relief. It was part of what made Nick; Nick. His humour, his outlook on life. He could be having the dirtiest, raunchiest sex and he'd still find something to laugh about.

"Jesus, angel. This is
so
fucking good," he declared after a few beats of silence from both of us, the only sound was him sliding in and out, and the slap of his thighs against the back of mine. "You close, babe?" he breathed above me. Then when I just groaned in reply, his hand slipped around the front of me, between my thighs and stomach, and found their mark. One sweep of his finger over the little knot of nerves and I was done.

I may have screamed as I came, I'm not sure. Nick didn't stop rubbing my sweet nub, exacting every ounce of the orgasm from me for as long as he could. The rush of blood through my body was dizzying, I gasped as I came down from that high, thinking I was about to pass out from the sensations he'd induced.

"Hang tight, angel," he growled behind me, both hands back on my hips, his pace picking up again. "Ohfuckohfuckoh
fuck
!" he repeated softly the closer he came, then with three hard, fast and deep thrusts he exploded with the sexiest groan I had ever heard in my life.

We both kind of collapsed to the tiled floor, his arm around my waist holding me up off the cold ceramic, his other hand pressed firmly into the ground to keep us upright, even though we were on our knees. I was thinking if he didn't do that, we'd topple over sideways.

"I can't fucking see," he said hoarsely. "Christ, Eva. You've fucked me blind."

I started laughing. "I think that's my line," I told him between sucking in air to laugh. We both fell to our sides laughing together. Nick didn't release his hold around me and made sure his body was the one on the hard floor, mine was lying on top of his or at least against it. Even in our moment of abandonment, he still made sure I was protected and safe from the hard, cold floor.

I was so in love with this man. I wanted to tell him, but I just couldn't say the words. What was I afraid of? Rejection? Maybe, but I was fairly sure after everything he'd said and done, he wouldn't run away if I declared my love. Then what?

Admitting it and then losing him, when we returned to New Zealand, and my Aunt or her boys decided to finish off what they started.

My hand smoothed over his thigh at my side, finding the dressing easily. Right leg, upper thigh. It was still tender; Nick flinched slightly when I touched it. Only two weeks, but the bruising around the wound was deep, so the damage had been severe. My stomach roiled at that thought. At the fact my relations had done this to him. His wound, his injury, was because of me. I didn't know how to assimilate that thought.

"Angel," he whispered below me. I turned my head and looked down into his eyes, he was aware of what I was thinking. "We'll get them," he promised. "They'll pay for this" - he shifted his thigh to indicate what he was talking about - "and for taking your Dad and beating on you."

I let a mortified breath out. My Dad. I hadn't even asked about my Dad.

"It's OK, angel," Nick said quickly, reaching up and cupping my face. "I needed us to connect first before I brought up your Dad. I'm thinking you needed that too. But now we both know you're mine and no one else's" - he smiled brilliantly at me, forcing me to lift the corners of my mouth in a semi-smile too and then roll my eyes for effect - "we can talk about him now too."

I swallowed, prepared myself for the worst and then met his ice-blue eyes, which had melted at some stage over the past half hour or so.

"We've got him, Eva. He's safe in a secured hospice." He sat up and pulled me onto his lap, wrapping an arm about my waist and running his hand through my sex-messed hair. "It's not good though, angel. He's been asking for you and he's not got much time left, that's why we've got to go on the next flight back."

Just when one thing in my life falls back into perfect place, a place it should have been in for the past eight years, another crumbles at my feet, shattered beyond repair. I just prayed we would make it in time, because I had a thing or two I needed to say to my Dad. And if I didn't get the chance now that I was being given, I wasn't sure how I'd hold my head up proudly ever again or mend that little piece of my heart that belonged to my Dad.

We heard Cary making obvious noises out in the main part of the house. Clearly he was letting us know he had finished in the bedroom and was aware of what we were doing - or at least where we were hiding. I felt a hot blush rush up my cheeks and Nick reached up and gently followed it with his finger.

"He's a man, angel. He's well aware of why I came here."

"Why you came here?" I semi-repeated in a question, thinking maybe he came here just for the sex. But that couldn't be right. Could it?

"To take what I want, unapologetically. And make her mine."

My eyes flicked up to meet his. Heated ice-blue stared back at me. He raised an eyebrow at me in a challenge.

"Do you doubt that?" he asked softly.

Did I? No. Nick had proven again and again that he wanted to be in my life and he wanted me in his. Sure, eight years ago he'd let me run away, but he'd given a pretty solid explanation of why. So we could both grow up and become the people we wanted to be. And we had. Nick had a highly successful and sought after security and investigations firm, and I was a Country singer, experienced in the rodeo ring that is Nashville's music world. We'd grown up, followed our dreams, but both of us had never forgotten that night. Nor had we found a substitute for it.

And here he was, taking me back, when - if I was honest - I was ready to
go
back. I'd done my time here, had a ball, now it was time to face my past. To show Aunty Jessie, Levi and the boys that I wasn't little ole Eva Rowe, tattered guitar and hand-me-down clothes, scrounging for some chips at lunch.

Well, the guitar was still tattered, but I'd buy another one when we got back. I'd also have to find a place to live, but I was sure Gus or one of the guys would let me bunk with them for a week or so, until I got myself sorted. If Dad had moved into a hospice, the council would have cleaned out the rest of his flat. There's no going back from a hospice and there was a waiting list a mile long for those flats.

"Eva? What are you thinking?" Nick asked, bringing me back to the fact we were naked - or at least I was, Nick was partially naked - on the bathroom floor, and that he was waiting for an answer,
and
that Cary was waiting in the lounge for us to emerge from our noisy, frantic love making session in the bathroom off the hall.

"Um..." I said, blinking rapidly.

Nick huffed a breath out on a laugh.

"Get dressed, angel. Let's go see your flatmate."

"Okey dokey," I muttered getting up and starting to don clothes.

When we came out of our sneaky seductive cave and into the bright lights of the lounge, Cary was watching TV. He flicked his gaze over me quickly, then returned to the TV screen with a small smirk playing on his lips. I stopped inside the door to the room, hands on hips.

"And you just thought you'd plan all this behind my back, Cary Carmichael!"

"Eva," he said, giving me a look that said,
duh!
"You're your own worst enemy sometimes. I felt it my duty as your best friend to push you down the right path. Seems like you're enjoying the new scenery."

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling embarrassed and self-righteous at the same time. Nick kissed me on the cheek and walked toward the couch, then collapsed in an undignified, too-much-frantic-sex kind of heap. Cary gave him the once over and smiled.

"Not the only one enjoying the new scenery, I see," he said smugly.

"I've died and gone to heaven," Nick announced, making me turn my glare towards him instead and start to tap my foot on the floor. "Angel," Nick said and nothing more. As though that said it all.

I decided to ignore the both of them and check my bags, but first..."What do I need to pack still, Cary?"

"Nothing, it's all done," he replied, flicking through the channels with the remote. "Two suitcases of clothes, one of personal stuff including your sheet music. Anything else I'll send through the post."

I stood there for a second and realised this was actually happening. I was leaving Cary. And Nashville, but it was the fact that I was leaving Cary that broke my heart. Sweet, funny Cary, who had taken one look at me strumming my guitar aimlessly one lunch time in a park near where he works and walked over to strike a conversation up. We'd become fast friends. Two weeks later I moved into his house and ever since he has been my cheerleader, my front row fanatic at gigs that I played, my foremost fan. My best friend.

With a shock of absolute terror I realised I was going to cry. Standing in the front room of the house we'd shared for almost eight years, Cary watching TV, Nick spread out in a post-coital daze on the couch, and I was about to let all cowgirls down worldwide. I contemplated running. Hiding out in my room until the tears stopped. I considered going to the kitchen and drowning my sorrows in a beer or two from the fridge. Several different options rolled through my mind, but none of them manifested quickly enough to be of any use.

A sob escaped me before I could stop it, before I could cut it off at the pass with an alcoholic distraction or pretend I was OK whilst trying not to run to my room to hide out. Nick's eyes flicked up to me, comprehension and concern dawning on his face. But it was Cary who reached me first and wrapped me up in his solid arms, resting his cheek against mine, catching the tears as they trickled out of my closed eyes.

"Shh, sweetie," he crooned, running his hand up and down my back. I hiccoughed unattractively and started to bawl. God, was this embarrassing. "It's OK," he said softly in my ear. "It's all gonna work out just fine."

He didn't realise I was crying for him. For the loss I'd feel when he was no longer in my life. He thought I was crying about my Dad, or maybe Jessie and her boys, or maybe just the fact I was heading home to face my past. He didn't realise I'd miss him and I was crying too hard now to get the words out and explain.

But Nick did. It never failed to surprise me how much of me Nick understood. Because he said in a low, even voice from his still semi-reclined position on the couch, "We can come back and visit, angel. I'm sure Cary would be happy to see us once a year."

Oh, and didn't that make me cry even harder. Nick knew what I was feeling and he'd offered me something so precious in those words. He offered his understanding, his acceptance of my need to have Cary in my life forever, and he'd done it by using the word:
us
. Not just sending me back to see Cary, but that we would
both
come to Nashville -
once a year
.