WHEN NICK GOT BACK, the house was quiet. His bedroom door was shut, and as there was no sign of the dog, he assumed Danielle had her, and that they were both asleep.
Good. He was hot and sweaty and pleasantly exhausted from his run. If he could grab a shower and fall asleep without kicking his brain into high drive, things would be even better.
He managed the shower part of the plan, and settled facedown on the couch. He made himself as comfortable as he could and closed his eyes.
Then, as if on cue, his thoughts started racing.
Danielle was in his bed. In his clothes. Was she curled into a little ball beneath his covers? Or was she sprawled out, taking up the entire bed?
He supposed as long as Sadie was on the floor, it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t dispel the images of Danielle in his sheets. Bare legs, maybe a creamy shoulder peeking out of his T-shirt. No bra, so her breasts would swing free with her every movement, the nipples hard and pouty, pressing against the material.
Oh yeah, that image would help him sleep. With a rough sigh, he flipped over and studied the ceiling. This was going to be one hell of a long night.
“Nick?” The woman of his dreams materialized at his side. “I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, then knelt by his shoulder.
As he’d already discovered, the reality of her was far more potent than any fantasy. She indeed wore his sweats, but because they were big, the waist sagged low on her hips. She’d tied the T-shirt in a knot above her belly button, so there was a gap between the shirt and pants, leaving a good four inches of bare, silky skin.
Right in front of his waiting mouth.
“I wanted to thank you again,” she whispered.
He forced his gaze up, up, up, past that bare, tantalizing belly, past the curved globes of her breasts, past her slender throat to her eyes. “Thank me?”
“Because of you, I can let my guard down, if only for tonight.”
“You took me in without mentioning how foolish I am to get myself into this situation.”
“I don’t think you’re foolish.”
“Thank you for that, too,” she said very softly. “You gave me food and shelter, and-” Her voice cracked. Her eyes misty, she gave him a watery smile.
Ah, hell.
“Nick…”
He wanted to tell her not to say his name that way, that quiet, warm way that stabbed through all his protective layers. He had lots of those layers, had built them for a young, rather geeky kid, then more for his worldly travels to prevent what he saw and reported on from touching him too much. Layers so that no one person had ever had a grip on his heart.
“I’ll leave in the morning,” she said softly, in that voice that reminded him they did have a past, no matter how tenuous it was. “But I want what we should have had all those years ago. I want this night, with you. Make love to me, Nick. Please?”
DANIELLE WAITED with bated breath for his answer. Ted had always hated it when she’d made the first move, but she was making it now.
Did she have it right?
Lying in bed, alone, worrying, obsessing, had done her no good. The only thing that had worked was thinking about Nick. He’d been there for her in a way no one else ever had, and she wanted to give him something in return.
But wanting him to make love to her wasn’t all altruistic. No way, not when her breath stuttered whenever she so much as looked at him. She wanted to give him more than her gratitude, she wanted to get a taste of what she should have allowed herself all those years ago. She wanted to be held in those strong hard arms, wanted to lose herself in quick, selfish, mind-blowing passion.
And then, when it was over, when night turned to dawn, she’d get up and walk away, holding those memories tight forever.
“Please?” she whispered, tugging at the light blanket he’d thrown over himself.
Beneath it, Lord, beneath it his body was beautiful; long and muscular, showing the strength of a man who used it and often. To her regret, he wasn’t completely naked. He wore a pair of dark gray knit boxers, which snugly clung to his muscled thighs and…other interesting parts.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“Danielle.”
She looked into his eyes as he touched her jaw, startled by all she saw there, so much so that she closed her own eyes, turning her face into his light touch.
But she wanted more, so much more. He could give her that something more. He represented warmth and strength and an end to being alone, if only for tonight. So she ran her fingers along the light stubble on his hard jawline, over the mouth she wanted to feel on hers. “Nick…love me.”
“You’re confusing comfort with sex,” he said in a rough whisper. “Take it from someone who’s done the same often enough to know. I can’t let you-”
“Nick.” She watched his eyes darken at the sound of his name on her lips, and she whispered it again. And then again, when his hand drifted down her neck onto her shoulder, then glided lightly over her arm down to her fingers, which he entwined with his.
Something shivered through her at the sweet, romantic gesture, and she told herself it was desire, not something more. Not any sort of emotional connection.
“It should be more,” he said, reading her mind.
Maybe, but it couldn’t be. This and only this was within her reach. One mindless night, with him. Feeling bold, she sat back on her heels and pulled the T-shirt over her head and off.
His breath caught. His mouth fell open, then shut with an audible snap. “Danielle,” he said hoarsely.
Never in her life had she been so shameless, but also something else. Wicked and brazen, and…free.
Coming to her feet, she tugged on the tie of the sweats he’d given her. Then gave them a little push as she wriggled her hips, letting the material slowly slip down her thighs, leaving her only in a pair of panties.
His eyes glued to her body, he sucked in a breath and swallowed hard. “Danielle.”
“Please don’t turn me away.” She sat at his hip, her heart in her throat because she needed this, needed him, more than she needed her next breath.
He let out a groan and reached for her, tugging her down over the top of him, drawing her closer to his oh-so- warm body. His breath skimmed her temple, her hair, while his hands molded and possessed her, stoking the ache deep within her to blind, primitive need.
He seemed to be similarly affected. Scooping her hair back from her face in fistfuls, he drew her close, staring into her eyes until their lips touched in a long, melting kiss. Then he let her hair go to trail those talented, greedy hands down her sides, stroking her breasts, holding her up so that he could look at her nipples, which were thrust near his face, begging for attention. He put his mouth on one, drawing it into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth, until she cried out, hips arching into his. Pulling back enough to blow a hot breath on the wet nipple, he slid his hands over her, down her back, and then lower, cupping two handfuls of her bottom.
Her pulse had long ago scrambled, and now so did her senses. They had all night, she thought with a bittersweet mixture of joy and misery. She could make the most of every hour, every single second. Knowing that, she pressed into him, eliciting a rough growl.
“Is this what you had in mind?” he asked a bit roughly, slipping his hands into her panties, his fingers dipping and exploring.
She let out a helpless little moan.
“Is it?”
“Yes,” she gasped, as his hands slid between her thighs to where she was already creamy, hot and very, very wet. “Yes,” she gasped again when he hooked his thumbs in her panties, and holding her gaze prisoner in his own,
