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Thank God she was able to get the key in the lock and open the door. She pulled him inside and barely had time to shut the door when he turned her around and backed her up against the wall. She locked her hands around his neck, and he ravished her with deep kisses that blocked out everything else but him.
He slid his hands along her thigh, pausing at the crook of her knee, and drew her leg up and around him. He pushed his arousal into her, and she thrust back.
“God, Becca. Who’s making who crazy now?”
She dug her fingers into the hair on the back of his head and pulled his mouth back to hers. He lifted her up so that she could encircle him with both legs, and they stayed like that kissing and thrusting, until she pulled away and said, “Let’s go into the bedroom.”
Before he set her down, he looked into her eyes. “Becca, I want to be here for you. I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it—”
“But you are, Nick. I don’t understand why you can’t see that.”
“I have a history of messing things up when it comes to family. I was married once before, but it didn’t work out, and then—”
He choked on his words, but he cleared his throat.
“I just don’t have a very good track record when it comes to family. Everything I touch seems to disintegrate.”
“That’s not true. You are a gifted doctor. You save lives, Nick. That’s sort of the opposite of making things disintegrate.”
He set her down gently and took a step back, raking his hair out of his eyes and looking more intense than she’d ever seen him look.
“Do you want to talk about this?” she asked.
“Not really. Not now. Another time. But I want you to know that there is nobody else but you, and if you want to try to make this work, that’s what I want, too.”
She took him by the hand and led him into her bedroom, where they kissed softly, gently, for what seemed an eternity—or maybe it was only a moment. Time was suspended, until he picked her up and set her tenderly on the bed.
“I didn’t realize you had a fireplace in here,” he said. “I’ll start a fire. I don’t want you to get cold.”
“Are you kidding? Here with you like this, there’s no way I could get cold. Forget the fire.”
He kissed her, and she felt it all the way to her toes. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him as he walked across the room and set logs and kindling on the fireplace’s iron grate.
“There are matches on the mantel,” she said. “In that little wooden box.”
He picked up the matchbox and stared at it a moment before looking up at Becca.
“Are you sure this is okay? I mean, is it safe for the babies?”
“I talked to Dr. Stevens and he said it’s fine. He said the only reason they classify my pregnancy nearly normal is because the uterus is really designed to only carry one baby. But since I’m healthy and everything seems to be fine, he said I should live as normal a life as possible within pregnancy parameters.”
She was glad he asked, glad he cared about the well-being of their children. It made her want him all the more.
Minutes later the fire flared and spit tiny embers, casting Nick in a warm glow of light and shadows. Everything about this man, from his tall, rugged build to his dark, brooding personality, set her senses on fire. The guy was a mystery, and she wanted to solve him, to get inside him and figure out what made him tick.
As he came back to her, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He unbuckled his belt and tossed it to the side. By the time he rejoined her on the bed, he was wearing only his pants.
Firelight danced across the taut muscles of his bare chest and shoulders. That’s when she saw it—that single word tattooed on his left bicep in dark block letters.
Ignosces.
Was that Latin?
The first night they’d been together she hadn’t noticed the date underneath the word: May 13, 1995.
“What’s this?” She gently traced the word with her fingernail. “What does it mean?”
She felt him tense, maybe even pull away just a little, but she kept her hand on his arm.
He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it before he could say a word. And then, as if thinking better of it, he said, “It means forgive me.”
Becca nodded, prepared to let it go at that, but he expounded.
“It’s for my little brother. He died on May 13, 1995. He was only seven years old.”
Becca’s heart clenched. “I’m so sorry, Nick.” She continued stroking his arm. “What happened?”
