Jill Shalvis - For The Love Of Nick

He felt a blinding need, an intense stroke of emotion, and heat raced through his body, so that if he didn’t take her now, he would die. Then her shorts were gone, his jeans opened. Lifting her higher yet, he surged into her, making them both cry out. He wasn’t sure how he could continue to want her this way, this all-powerful, earth-shattering way, but the wanting consumed him.

“Nick…” It was a sob, torn from her throat, telling him she was consumed, too.

“Wrap your legs around my waist…there. Yeah, there. ” Using the door, he thrust into her glorious, giving body, until with another keening cry, she came. Watching her fall apart, shuddering, mindless, his name on her lips, he followed her over the edge.

It was several moments before he could move, but he finally lifted his face from where he’d planted it against her neck.

Danielle’s head was thrown back against the door, her eyes closed, and he could feel her limbs still shaking. He would have touched her, but as his own limbs were still trembling like crazy, he was afraid to let go of his two fistfuls of her bottom, or he’d drop her.

Eyes still closed, she squirmed until he loosened his grip, then she reached for the clothes they’d scattered across the room.

Sweater held to her breasts, she turned to him, eyes miserable. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“This, as in making love?”

“This, as in playing house.” She shoved her legs into her shorts. “This pretending to be engaged.” She pulled on her sweater, forgetting her bra. “This…” She gestured to the door that they’d just done it against. “That.”

Before he could respond, there came a knock at that very door.

“Nick?” Maureen called through the wood. “Honey, Clint and I just opened some champagne with breakfast. A gift from our distributor. Bring your soon-to-be wife down, we’ll have a toast.”

Nick looked at Danielle, who gave him a long, solemn, sorrowed look that said see? It’s wrong.

“Give us a minute,” Nick said.

Danielle just shook her head.

She didn’t want to play the game anymore, but that was okay, because neither did he. And it was time to tell her. He watched her search for a sock and find it. “I want the real thing, Danielle.”

The sock fell from her fingers. “You what?”

“I don’t want to pretend anymore, either. I want to sleep with you at night, wake up with you wrapped around me. I want to share your life, and have you share mine.”

“You’re crazy,” she whispered.

“Maybe.”

“You can’t want to share my life. I don’t want to share my life.”

“I love you, Danielle.”

Her expression shuttered and she turned away. Walking to the window, she stared down at the gardens, so alive with color. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know me.”

“I think I do,” he said evenly, which was difficult, as she’d cut him deep with her disbelief.

“Okay, then.” Danielle’s shoulders were stiff. So was her neck. Hell, her entire body felt so tight she was going to crack and fall apart, limb by limb. “ I don’t know you. ”

“Just because you feel like your back is up against the wall,” he said, more quietly now, “isn’t a reason to lie to me.”

She whipped back to face him, a hot retort on her lips, but it died when she saw that while his voice had sounded confident, he was far from sure of himself.

Above all else, his love for her was shining in his eyes. “Oh, Nick.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re thrilled.”

Terrified, more like. How could facing his love be harder than facing Ted’s hatred? “We lead very different lives.”

“So?”

“So…you’ve told me yourself, your job takes you far and wide. You’re rarely home.”

“And I’ve also told you, I’ve enjoyed this break. So much that I’m thinking a little lifestyle change wouldn’t be a bad thing. I can still write, Danielle, and not vanish for months at a time.” His gaze deepened. “If it’s permanence you’re looking for.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what I’m looking for.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it. God forbid you share yourself-”

“I’ve tried that, thank you very much!”

“Not with me, you haven’t.” His eyes were hot. “Don’t lump me in with him, Danielle.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I’m tired of beating my head against the wall to get you to trust me. To want me.”

“I want you, Nick. That’s never been the problem.”

“I’d rather have your trust.”

Her ribs felt too tight. Her stomach hurt. She needed air, badly. “I don’t do trust.” She found her shoes, shoved them on.

“You do at night.”

Damn it, where was Sadie’s leash?

“You trust me when it’s dark,” he said behind her. “When you can fool yourself into believing it’s just sex, it’s just comfort, it’s just temporary.”

The leash was already on Sadie. Grabbing it, she faced Nick, seeing all his anger and hurt, which made her heart clench tighter.

“But it’s in the light of day that the challenge comes,” he guessed correctly. “Well, guess what, Danielle? I’m not like him, and I’m never going to be. I’m never going to shove you into some mold, force you to do things you don’t want to do. I’m not interested in changing you, or asking you to be someone you’re not. I want you, just as you are.” He put his hand over hers on the door handle. “But I won’t have you look at me with that look, the one that says you’re wondering how long before I show my true colors, the one that says that no matter how often you let me make love to you, you’re still going to hold back a portion of your heart.”

“Nick, stop. Please stop.” God, she had to think. Breathe. She hauled open the door.

Sadie whined, not happy with the tension, and Danielle gave a little tug on the leash. “Come.”

Sadie merely ducked her head and used her weight to tug back.

“Running, Danielle?” Nick asked while she played tug-of-war with the dog.

Damn him for not understanding. This wasn’t easy for her, it-

With another whine, Sadie sat on Nick’s feet.

“You’ve run before,” Nick noted, putting a hand on Sadie’s head. “Hasn’t worked for you yet. Why don’t you take a stand and work this out?”

Danielle glanced down at her dog, who-she couldn’t believe it-refused to budge.

“Go ahead,” Nick suggested. “Run. Keep on running. Don’t let me in. Don’t acknowledge how I feel for you. You’ll be happier that way. Right?”

What did he know about it? “Come on, Sadie.” She stepped outside the room, but Sadie didn’t.

“Leave her.” Nick’s eyes dared her. “If air is all you need.”

“You don’t even like her.”

His eyes roamed over her before he shook his head. “Still not seeing me, I see.”

She stared back at him, tough and tense. He thought he loved her. My God. Loved her. She couldn’t breathe again, and dropping the leash, she ran for the trails.

Alone.

As always, alone.

NICK LOOKED DOWN at Sadie.

From her perch on his feet-which were quickly losing circulation-she shot him a reproachful, hurt look, as if this mess was all his fault.

“Hey, you’re the one who decided to stay here,” he pointed out.

Sadie butted his stomach with her head, tilting her face up to blink huge, melting eyes at him.

“Oh, no. Don’t give me that. I’m second fiddle and I know it. You should have gone with her.”

Sadie let out a long sigh. A pathetic sigh. A poor-me sigh.

“Ah hell.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and crouched down. “You know I’ve grown stupidly attached, right? To the both of you?”