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“I’m here for as long as you want me.” He nudged her legs further apart and she welcomed him in.
The slow rhythm increased until they were both panting. Each searching for what they thought was lost forever. His thrusts were hard, fast, and out of control. She didn’t want him to stop, and when her release came she screamed out from the sheer euphoria like all the rough edges were smoothed away.
Nick followed her collapsing at her side, his face nestled in her neck as her hand stroked his back. It had been too long since she felt alive, a decade of denial and want brought them to this glorious moment. The pleasure now almost making it worthwhile. Almost.
Nick lifted his head and their eyes met. “Stop thinking and just go with it.”
“How do you do that?” she whispered.
“What?”
“Jump into my head and know what I’m thinking.” She dug her fingers through his hair, still so thick and soft.
“I felt you tense up. You may not wanna admit it, but you and me, babe, we’re one fuckin’ person. You get cut, I bleed, simple shit you can’t deny.”
He was right, she couldn’t deny it. They’d been in sync from the first night they met in the Oasis all those years ago.
Nick turned his pitch-black eyes on Cheryl and her pulse pounded under his scrutiny. “Nick Santoro. I run the Oasis.” His voice lost its edge, becoming as smooth as honeyed whiskey. “You ever need anything or wanna get outta this dump, come see me.” Nick leaned in close enough for her to get a whiff of his cologne, an exotic mix of musk and sex. “We’re always looking for new talent”—a bolt of heat zipped up her spine—“cause you can do a lot better.”
Nick smiled up at her. “And yeah, I remember the first night in the Oasis. There you were looking like you didn’t belong in that shithole.”
“I remember after you left I had a fantasy about you coming back to save me.”
She watched him leave wishing he’d stayed, longing for him to return.
Nick Santoro, her knight in black Brioni, sweeping her up and riding off into the sun setting over the Brooklyn Bridge.
The loud music, clinking glasses, and rough laughter in the Oasis would fade away. Nick would hold her close, not able to wait, both of them breathless. He’d nuzzled her neck, the scratch of his stubbled jaw leaving a trail over her skin. Hot, sweet, and slow. He’d palm her ass and lift her until she could feel his?—
“Iguess you could say we saved each other.”
Nick propped pillows behind their heads and Cheryl pulled at the sheets to cover them against the chill of the air conditioning.
“I can’t believe we just did that.”
“No regrets?”
Cheryl snuggled into him and kissed his neck as an answer.
“Even back in Brooklyn we could never take it slow.” Nick wrapped his arm around her drawing her closer. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Quite a few things have changed. We’re in Vegas, you own a huge club, and I’m married to?—”
“True, but now since we found each other again you can take care of the married part.”
Her silence made him shift on the bed. “Right?”
“It’s not as easy as it may seem.”
“You go home and tell him it’s over and get a divorce. People do it all the time.”
“I know, but . . .”
“You don’t love him and you told me the other night you don’t wanna be with him so what’s the problem?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You used to say that in Brooklyn and it usually meant you were keeping something from me.”
