natural fibers. Delaney stood in front of a wall of windows and looked outside onto the deck. It was still snowing, and the white flakes accumulated on the rail and landed in the Jacuzzi. Nick had taken her coat, and with the ceiling so high and the rooms so open, she was surprised she wasn’t cold.
“What do you think?”
She turned and watched him approach her from the kitchen. He’d taken off his jacket and his shoes. One more black stud had been removed from his pleated white shirt, and he’d rolled the sleeves up his forearms. The black suspenders lay flat against his wide chest. He handed her a Budweiser, then took a drink from his own. His eyes watched her over the bottle, and she got the feeling he cared about her answer more than he wanted her to know.
“It’s beautiful, but huge. Do you live here alone?”
He lowered the beer. “Of course. Who else?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a family of five.” She glanced up at the balcony which she presumed lead to those four bedrooms he’d mentioned. “Are you planning for a large family with lots of children someday?”
“I don’t plan to get married.”
His answer pleased her, but she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like she cared if he wanted to spend his life with another woman, or kiss her, or make love to her, or overwhelm her with his touch.
“No kids, either… unless you’re pregnant.” He glanced at her stomach as if he could tell by looking. “When will you know for sure?”
“I already know I’m not.”
“I hope you’re right.” He moved to the window and looked out into the night. “I know single women are getting pregnant on purpose these days. Being illegitimate doesn’t have the stigma it used to have, but that doesn’t make it easy. I know what it’s like to grow up like that. I don’t want to do that to some poor kid.”
The Y of his suspenders lay against his back and up over his big shoulders. She remembered the times she’d seen his mother and Josu sitting in the gymnasium watching school plays and holiday programs. Henry and Gwen would have been there, too, somewhere. She’d never thought about what that must have been like for Nick. She set her bottle on a cherrywood coffee table and moved to him.
“You’re not like Henry. You wouldn’t deny your own child.” She wanted to slide her hands around his waist to his flat stomach and press her cheek against his spine, but she held back.
“Henry’s probably spinning in his grave.”
“He’s probably congratulating himself.”
“Why? He didn’t want us to-” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, Nick. I forgot about the will. I guess you forgot, too.”
He turned to face her. “For a few crucial moments, it did slip my mind.”
She looked into his eyes. He didn’t appear all that upset. “I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want that property. I promise.”
“That’s up to you.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from her face and softly traced her ear with his fingertips. Then he took her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom.
As they moved up the steps, she thought about Henry’s will and the repercussions of tonight. Nick didn’t strike her as the type of man who let anything slip his mind, especially not his multimillion dollar inheritance. He had to care for her as much as she feared she was beginning to care for him. He risked a lot to be with her, while she risked nothing but a little self-respect. And actually, when she thought of it, she didn’t feel dirty or used or regret anything. Not now-maybe she would in the morning.
Delaney stepped into a room with thick beige carpet and a set of closed French doors leading to an upper deck. There was a huge hardwood mission bed with pillows and comforters of striped sage green and beige. Keys were thrown on one dresser, and a newspaper lay unopened on the other. There wasn’t a flower printed on anything, no spots of lace or strings of fringe in sight. Not even on the bolsters. It was a man’s room. Elk antlers hung above the rock mantel. The bed was unmade, and a pair of Levi’s was thrown over a chair.
As he set their beer bottles on a nightstand, Delaney raised her hands to the black studs and worked them free until the shirt lay open to his waist. “It’s time I got to see you naked,” she said, then slid her palms up his warm skin. Her fingers combed through the fine hair growing in a dark line up his belly and across his chest. She pushed the white cotton and suspenders from his shoulders and down his arms.
He balled the shirt in one hand and tossed it to the floor. She ran her gaze over his taut skin, powerful chest, and flat brown nipples surrounded by dark hair. She swallowed and thought maybe she should check for drool. Only one word came to mind. “Wow,” she said and pressed her hand against his flat stomach. She ran her palm up his ribs and looked into his gray eyes. He watched her from beneath lowered lids as she stripped him to his BVDs. He was beautiful. His legs were long and thick with muscles. Her fingers traced the tattoo circling his biceps. She touched his chest and shoulders, and slid her hands over his back and rounded behind. When her examination moved south, he grabbed her wrist and took over. He slowly undressed her, then laid her on soft flannel sheets. His warm skin pressed the length of hers, and he took his time making love to her.
His touch was different from before. His hands lingered over her body, and he seduced her with stirring languid kisses. He teased her breasts with his hot mouth and slick tongue, and when he entered her, his thrusts were slow and controlled. He held her face between his palms and his gaze locked with hers, holding himself back as he drove her wild.
She felt herself propelled toward orgasm, and her eyes drifted shut.
“Open your eyes,” he said, his voice husky. “Look at me. I want you to see my face when I make you come.”
Her lids opened and she looked into his intense gaze. Something bothered her about his request, but she didn’t have time to think about it before he thrust harder, deeper, and she wrapped one leg around his behind and forgot about everything but the hot tingles building with steady pressure in her body.
It wasn’t until just before dawn the next morning as he kissed her good-bye at her door, that she thought about it again. As she watched him drive away, she remembered the look in his eyes as he’d held her face between his palms. It was if he were watching her from a distance, yet at the same time wanting her to know it was Nick Allegrezza who held her and kissed her and drove her wild.
He made love to her in his bed and later in the Jacuzzi, but neither time had been like that hurried, hungry mating in the linen closet when he’d touched her with an urgency and need he hadn’t been able to control. She’d never felt so wanted as she had smashed against his chest in the Lake Shore Hotel. “
Delaney shut her apartment door behind her and unbuttoned her coat. They hadn’t talked of seeing each other again. He hadn’t said he’d call her, and even though she knew it was probably for the best, disappointment tugged at her heart. Nick was the kind of guy a girl couldn’t depend on for anything but great sex, and it was best not to even think about things like next time. Best but impossible.
The sun rose over dense jagged pine, topped with snow. Silvery rays spread across the partially frozen lake to the bottom of Nick’s retaining wall. He stood behind the French doors in his bedroom and watched brilliant light stretch across his deck, chasing away dusky shadows. The snow sparkled like it was embedded with tiny diamonds, so bright he was forced to turn away. His gaze fell on his bed, the sheets and comforter shoved to the very end.
Now he knew. Now he knew what it was like to hold her and touch her as he’d always wanted. Now he knew what it was like to live out his oldest fantasy, to have Delaney in his bed, looking into his eyes with him buried deep inside her. Her wanting him. Him pleasing her.
Nick had been with his share of women. Maybe more than some men, but less than he’d been given credit for. He’d been with women who liked their sex slow or fast, raunchy or strictly missionary. Women who thought he should do most of the work, and those who’d gone overboard to please him. Some of the women he’d shared friendships with, others he’d never seen again. Most had known what to do with their mouths and hands, a few were just drunken episodes he’d mostly forgotten, but none of them had made him lose control. Not until Delaney.
Once he’d pulled her into that closet, there’d been no turning back. Once she’d kissed him like she wanted to eat him alive, hooking her leg over his hip and grinding against his hard-on, nothing had mattered but losing himself
