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And she couldn’t withhold anything from him. He had her under a spell. She had no choice but to offer him everything, the chaotic glow of her emotions and the desperate eagerness of her response, shining brighter, rising to a crest—
And it broke, and the wave pulsed through her, washed over her, leaving her naked, and brand new. As tender as the dawn.
Time had warped and expanded, into an infinite, dreamlike interval with no beginning, no end. It moved, but like a slow river and they were afloat in it, sometimes dozing, sometimes tossed in the rapids or churned in a pulsing mass of chaotic foam, then floating on in a pool of delicious sloth again. Finally, when she was boneless and spent, he lifted his face, wiped his grinning mouth and grabbed both her hands. He tugged until she was forced to sit, her naked thighs flanking him where he kneeled before her, holding both her hands tightly.
His burning eyes asked a question. No need to put it into words. He pulled a condom out of his pocket, and tucked it into her hand.
“You do the honors,” he said simply.
She stared at him, wondering at his skill, maneuvering her into needing desperately what she’d tried so hard to withhold. Chump that she was. No way could she live without it now. She needed everything he had to give her. A little part of her felt scared and weak and foolish to let herself be used again, but there seemed to be another person rising up inside her who wanted to do the using. Ravenous for Nick’s raw male sexuality. His power and vigor, his life-giving heat.
She leaned forward, slid her hands beneath his shirt, stroking his hard belly, gripping his lean waist. Feeling the smooth, powerful play of the layers of muscle moving and shifting beneath her hands as she shoved his jeans down over his hips and let his cock spring free.
Whoa. It never ceased to amaze her. The sheer size of him, so broad and blunt. She caressed him, admiring every detail, the luxurious suedelike softness of the skin, the distended veins pulsing along the length of the broad shaft. Oh, wow. Perfection.
She loved the heat of him, all that thundering urgency and power held rigidly in check, waiting for the moment to serve her pleasure. She gripped him with both hands and squeezed, stroked, felt him gasp and arch and shudder, groaning at the tight, twisting stroke of her hands.
She ripped open the condom. The landline phone rang. They froze.
“Let the machine get it,” she told him. “It’s probably just my boss, calling to fire my lazy ass.”
Six rings was too damn long to wait. She had to reprogram the thing for three, now that she was avoiding the whole world. Click, beep, and the outgoing message played. She was changing that, too.
“Becca? Pick up if you’re there. I just talked to Carrie, and she—”
“Oh, God. It’s my brother,” she said, lunging for the phone. “Josh? I’m here.”
“Good!” Josh harrumphed. “It’s about time. Carrie told me you were a wreck. Not going to work? What the hell is that about?”
That was irritating. “I’m hardly a wreck,” she snapped. “Can’t I be depressed sometimes, too? Can’t I have a bad day now and then?”
Josh was silent for a moment. “No,” he said. “You can’t.”
Chills of guilt shuddered up her spine at her own thoughtless self-absorption. Josh had been only eight when their mom had given in to her despair and eaten that lethal handful of pain pills.
No wonder he couldn’t handle her being depressed.
That was one of the reasons she’d always tried so desperately hard to keep her spirits up, or at least the appearance of them. She wanted to give them at least that much security. An illusion they could count on.
And they still counted on it. For all their vaunted independence, for all their irritating juvenile attitudes, when she wavered, they freaked.
“What the hell is this I hear about you picking up a guy?” Josh’s voice was as huffy as a disapproving grandpa. “Some tattooed thug, Carrie said? Gross, Becca. I mean, I understand about you being pissed off at that prick Justin, but for God’s sake, you could get, like, a disease! You have to be more careful!”
Becca stifled her laughter with her hands, to hear her own desperate, bleating, sisterly lectures playing back to her out of her little brother’s mouth. “I don’t want to discuss that right now, OK?”
Josh was instantly suspicious. “Why not? And are you laughing? What’s so funny? You don’t sound depressed at all! What’s up?”
“I’m not laughing, you idiot. I just—”
“Is that guy with you? Right now?” His voice rose to a squeak.
“Damn it, Josh, I—”
“You were having sex with him! Right? That’s why you didn’t answer your phone. Holy shit, Becca. Are you, like, nuts?”
“Calm down,” she snapped. “Can’t I have a private life?”
“Put him on,” Josh said ominously.
