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There is a part of me that recognizes what I’ve done here. The threshold I wasn’t sure I was ready to cross has now been obliterated.
I don’t know if Nick will hurt me again.
I only know that I need him. I needed this.
Tonight I needed us.
The look in his eyes tells me he does too.
And for now, that’s enough.
Chapter 12
It’s just after daybreak when I open my eyes and realize Nick is gone.
Disappointment jolts me, sharper than I care to admit. I push myself up to a sitting position on the cool sheets, my chest gone suddenly hollow.
That is, until I see Nick’s shirt draped with his dark suit pants over my reading chair in the corner. His polished black leather shoes are still here, too, parked neatly beside my dresser.
So, where is he?
A quick glance toward the adjacent bathroom tells me he’s also taken the time to shower. Jesus, how hard had I slept? Granted, Nick and I spent much of the night making love. I lost count of the times one of us woke the other with the insatiable urge to begin all over again. All I know is that my body is sore in several places, each tender ache a sensual reminder of everything I’d been missing since Nick and I had been apart.
I slip out of bed and pad into the bathroom to check my hair and brush my teeth. Water still beads on the glass enclosure of the shower. The humid air carries the faint vanilla fragrance of my soap and the fruity scent of my shampoo. There’s something gratifying and familiar, even erotic, about the idea of Nick using my toiletries as if he lives here. I smile in the mirror, taking probably a bit too much satisfaction in my bedraggled, well-pleasured reflection.
After I freshen up at the sink and twist my hair into a hasty knot on top of my head, I snag Nick’s shirt from the chair and slip it on. The crisp cotton is dry now, but there’s no fixing the lack of buttons down the front of it. I smile with the memory, feeling playful and sexy as I roll the overlong sleeves up on my forearms and head out of the bedroom to look for Nick.
The low timbre of his voice carries out from the kitchen.
“I thought I made myself clear on this the last time we spoke.” Although he’s speaking quietly, there’s no mistaking the irritation in his tone. No, he’s pissed as hell. “Yes, I understand the situation and I don’t give a damn. Then tell the son of a bitch I said as much. No. There’s nothing more to say on the matter. You have my answer and it’s final.”
My steps halt just outside the room. I stand there silent, feeling awkward and uncertain if I should interrupt. He pivots at that same moment, perhaps sensing that he’s no longer alone. His call is ended without a goodbye, then he sets his phone on the counter.
I feel my brow furrow. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were on the phone. Everything all right?”
“Just some business I needed to handle.” His mouth curves in a sinfully hot smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No. I slept like a rock until a minute ago.”
He’s practically naked, dressed in just his black boxer briefs. Now that I’m seeing him in the daylight, he’s leaner than I recall. But still fit and strong, every inch of him roped in honed muscle sheathed in flawless golden skin. Desire pulses in me just to look at him.
I drift toward him, drawn as ever by the magnetism of this man but also by the memory of another morning after—our first—following my unplanned sleepover in his penthouse. We’d ended up in the kitchen that day, too, with Nick clad only in boxer briefs and me feeling awkward and twitchy, eager to make my escape before I was tempted to fall any deeper under his spell. There had been no hope of avoiding that, even then.
He leans casually against the counter, allowing me to drink in my fill of him. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
“Yes. It was a very nice shirt too.” I glance down at the open front that exposes as much of me as it covers. “Shame it’s ruined.”
“Ruined? Not from where I’m standing. It’s never looked better.” His blue eyes darken as he takes a handful of the finely loomed cotton in each hand and pulls me against him. His arousal is unmistakable, pressing shamelessly into my belly. “You look good enough to eat in my shirt. Or out of it.”
He lowers his head to mine and kisses me, his lips warm and intent and unhurried. His hands slip down my sides and around to the loose hemline that skims the backs of my thighs. I moan into his mouth as he palms my ass, his fingers firm and possessive. His bare skin feels hot everywhere we touch, his hard erection grinding against me in a slow rhythm that only makes me crave more.
“Hungry?” He murmurs against my parted lips.
“God, yes.”
“Good. So am I.” He chuckles darkly. It’s not until I open my eyes that I realize he’s talking about food. With a smirk on his lips and an amused arch of his brows, he lifts his head from our kiss. “I thought I’d round up some breakfast for us. If you don’t mind.”
“You mean take over my kitchen?” I feign an affronted look. “That’s rather bold of you, Mr. Baine.”
