Break Your Heart (12 page)

T
he entryway was dark, but the air inside was warm. He’d obviously left the furnace on. I heard feet trampling across the wood floors, and then Nick’s low voice as he greeted his dog. “Go lie down,” he urged her. The dog sniffed my legs, then ambled away.

I peeled off my coat as he flipped the light switch on, flooding the hallway with a bright light. He took my coat and hung it in the small front closet, then took off his.

I stood there, my body vibrating with everything I was feeling. My fingers clutched my bag.

Nick spun around and pressed me to the hallway wall. My breath rushed out of my lungs, and then his mouth was on mine again, his tongue exploring. I dropped my purse and threaded my fingers through his silky hair. Kept him as close to me as humanly possible. Our breaths mingled, and he sighed.

His hands snaked around my waist to pull my body flush to his. I could almost smell the heat of my arousal filling the hallway. His stubble grazed my skin as he moved his mouth to my jaw, to the sensitive flesh under my ear.

Then he bit my earlobe, and I shuddered. My nipples hardened. “Yes,” I panted. “That feels so good.” His mouth was wet and searing.

“I need to taste more of you,” he breathed into my ear. His hands worked their way to my bare torso, fingers digging into my sides. I could feel how hard he was.

For me.

I nodded, and he pulled back. His eyes were heavy lidded, almost angry-looking with the intensity pouring off him.

“My room is upstairs.” He paused. Maybe to give me a chance to back out.

“Show me.” I sounded so wanton. I stepped toward him and rubbed my breasts on his chest; they felt full and heavy and reveled in the sensation of touching him. I swiped my tongue along his Adam’s apple, savoring the slight salty tinge of his skin.

The little shiver he gave almost did me in. He turned and walked up the dark stairs. At the top of the stairway, moonlight spilled through horizontal blinds, providing enough light for me to make my way in.

His bedroom was the whole top floor, a large loft space with a massive bed right in the middle. I shuffled right behind him and nearly ran into his back when he suddenly stopped.

He turned. I couldn’t see his face well, but all my other senses became more sensitive. The soft rasps of his breaths filled my ears. The scent of his skin filled my nostrils. I stroked my fingertips along the tiny prickles on his jaw, his chin.

He sucked in a breath, then ducked his head just slightly and licked my finger. My sex thrummed in response.

Without fumbling, his hands reached up and drew my sweater over my head. I stood there in my bra, breasts heaving with the effort it took me to drag air into my rapidly shrinking lungs. My whole body was torquing tighter, like a twisting rope. I ached for him to help me release the building need swelling in me.

“You’re beautiful.” The words were simple but said with so much reverence, I felt my skin flush. His fingers brushed the mounds of flesh above my bra, and goose bumps broke out in response.

I wanted him to go faster. But I shoved my impatience aside. This wasn’t some drunken fumbling at a party. It wasn’t a casual hookup. This was going to be intense, and I wanted to savor each second. Imprint it into my memory.

Nick wasn’t a horny, buzzed college guy fumbling his way through our foreplay. Self-control oozed from him. I knew he’d have the same masterful attitude in bed that he commanded in the classroom.

The difference between sleeping with a guy and making love with a man, I supposed.

I reached a hand out and touched his bare stomach under his sweater. Felt the taut lines stiffen and jump as my fingers explored each ridge. He ripped his sweater off, and I ran both hands up his pecs, swept dancing fingers over his shoulders, down his lean, muscled upper arms.

He didn’t move. Just let me touch him. His skin was scorching. I swallowed, stepped closer and pressed my open mouth to the top of his right pec. It flexed under my lips, and he sighed. His hands came up to cup my waist, then slid down to tease at the flesh just under the waistband of my jeans.

And then they were unfastened, unzipped. Being shoved down my hips. I kicked them aside, now just in a bra and panties.

A nervousness I hadn’t ever felt before came over me, and I was suddenly shy. The feeling of being utterly exposed to this man—body and heart and soul—had me hunching over.

He gripped my shoulders and straightened me up. “No. I want to see you.”

“You already do,” I whispered. With those eyes boring into mine, visually caressing my skin in sweeping bursts, it felt as if he saw right through me. Right into the core of who I was. Reached depths I’d never let anyone find before.

His hand stroked my lower belly, and I clenched with need. My breaths came faster. Harder. His fingers teased the top of my panties.

“You should take your pants off too,” I said, a little embarrassed that my voice trembled a touch.

And he did, and then we were both there in our underwear, his erection bobbing between us, the thick line discernible through his boxer briefs, even in the dark. He took my hand and led me to the bed, then laid me down. His body covered mine, head to toe, our skin sizzling where we touched.

“I’m trying to go slow,” he said, “because I want to make this last. Make it feel good for you. But I feel like I’m going to explode.”

His words ignited that spark in my belly, driving away the discomfort. I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit off-kilter; his tone revealed a hint of vulnerability that came through loud and clear.

Even more surprising was that he wasn’t trying to hide it from me. He was okay with me knowing he wasn’t totally cool, totally in control, despite how things initially appeared.

Our footing was more equal than I’d realized.

I wound my arms around him and touched the muscles and planes of his back. He flexed at the contact. His mouth dropped down to my neck, and the soft kisses he pressed there were so gentle, it made my heart clench.

“You taste amazing.” He sucked the flesh into his mouth, then bit down just a touch. I shuddered. His hand moved between our bodies to stroke my most tender place through my panties, and I found myself opening for him, wrapping my thighs around his.

“Yes, right there,” I said. Heat curled in me, a throb that grew more insistent.

His hand slid under the fabric and touched my bare flesh, and he groaned. “Oh God, you’re so wet.” His expert fingers moved faster, and I felt the orgasm coming. I’d never had a guy get me this hot this fast. My whole body was on fire, lit from the inside out. “You’re close, aren’t you.” His mouth was at my ear, and I was writhing against his open palm, his sweeping digits. Sexy assurance poured from his voice now, his earlier vulnerability gone. This man was in control of me; I craved it. “Come for me, Megan.”

“Yes,” I managed to say. My eyelids fluttered closed and I dropped my head back on the pillow. Gripped his arms and pressed my shaking thighs farther apart.

He hovered just over me, stroking and kneading the flesh, and then I came in a bolt of lightning. A cry flew from my lips and my whole body stiffened.

When I sank down in a heady glow into his bed several long, delicious seconds later, I belatedly realized I’d cried out his name. Another thing I’d never done—been so far gone in the moment that I hadn’t realized what I’d said until afterward.

“I’m going to take you now,” he promised me with a glint in his eye. He moved away from me to rise from the bed.

He whipped off his boxer briefs, and I heard his bedside drawer open, then the telltale crinkling of a condom wrapper being opened. Then he was back on me, stripping my bra and panties off and tossing them to the side. His body was almost feverishly hot.

I gasped in pleasure when he thrust in me, then paused. His arms shook as he hovered over my body.

“Oh God, so tight,” he groaned. His forehead rested on mine. Our breaths fell together. I savored the feeling of being this connected to him. The threads connecting us wound tighter, stronger.

Then he moved out, in, a slow pace that once again spoke to his control. But I ground against him, felt sweat building between our bodies, making us slide along each other. I didn’t want him in control. I wanted him frantic, as crazy as I felt right now. My heart raced wildly beneath my rib cage.

His breath staggered, and I saw the control slip just a touch.

“Please,” I begged. I needed him to let go. My heels dug into the backs of his thighs. “Nick,
please
.”

That snapped something in him. He took my hands and pinned them over my head. With the moonlight dappling our naked bodies, his eyes looked wild. He sucked my nipple, and I writhed from the exquisite sensation.

“Don’t hold back,” I said as I pushed myself toward his mouth. “I want this.”

He popped his lips off my breast and took my mouth in a rough kiss. No longer was he steady and even in his thrusts—they were deep, hard, almost jarring. He filled me thoroughly, our limbs entangled. He dropped a hand down to grip my hip and tilt my pelvis up.

We slammed together, and then he arched back and yelled, his body one long, hard line. When his orgasm faded, he relaxed and rested his length against me. Removed the hand pinning my hands above and stroked the side of my cheek, a crooked grin on his face. I found my own mouth curving up in response.

I let my legs go lax from their clenched position around his thighs and cupped his body into mine. Wrapped my arms around his torso. He was still inside me.

His heartbeat knocked against my breast; I could feel its staccato rhythm, a testament to his emotions and the height of his arousal. My throat tightened, and for some reason I felt my eyes get hot. I blinked away the sensation.

Then he pressed a sweet kiss to my chin and withdrew. My body was sweat slicked, so the absence of him against me brought an instant chill. He whipped the covers down and settled me in the bed. Disposed of the condom and slid beside me.

As weird as it sounded, this actually felt even more intimate than the sex we’d just had. Lying in his bed, his arm draped over me, the warmth of his body pressed against my side. Sharing the same pillow, our breaths puffing and mingling together.

His fingers made lazy circles on my stomach, and I relaxed into the soothing touch.

“That felt really good,” I told him.

“It did for me too.” He paused; I could almost hear his unspoken thoughts in the silence of the room. Somewhere downstairs there was a clock ticking. The furnace kicked on again, and warm air rushed through the vents.

“I hope there’s not a ‘but’ in there,” I said in what I hoped was a teasing tone.

Nick cleared his throat. “We should talk about this, Megan. About what it means.” He sounded so serious.

My heart sank. I must have clenched up my muscles without realizing it, because I felt his hand pressing against my belly, his palm keeping me in place. I forced myself to relax. It was hard keeping my brain from whirring all over the place.

I didn’t want to hear him tell me this was just a regular hookup, a one-time impulsive thing. Because it sure as hell hadn’t felt like one to me. All I knew was that when he’d been inside me, the connection had been intense. Our eyes on each other. Our bodies moving together. His fingers woven in mine.

It hadn’t been just sex. I’d felt my heart stirring, the rush that had come from us being so exposed to each other, our needs out there in the open. The kind of emotions that came with making love.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

How forthright should I be? Was it too fast if I told him what I was thinking? Too honest?

“Just wondering what you’re going to say,” I finally told him.

He sighed, and his warm breath stirred against my cheek. “Here’s what I know. This could damage my career at the college. And it could impact your future there as well. We’re playing with fire.”

I closed my eyes and nodded as the sick feeling in my chest grew stronger. Now I didn’t want to hear the rest of what he said. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Yup, I get it. You’re right, of course.” Pride made my words clipped.

His iron grip on my forearm stopped me from rising. He sat up too; I heard the rustling right behind me. Then his legs were on either side of me and his chest pressed against my back. His hands wrapped around my stomach, and he rained soft kisses on my shoulders, my upper back.

“Right now, with you here in my arms, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d want to be. I’d rather burn up in the flames than be cold without you, Megan. But I need to know if I’m reading into this . . . thing with us or if you could possibly ever feel that way about me too.” I felt him swallow, heard the faint shake in his voice. “I don’t want to push you or make assumptions. . . .” He trailed off, his whole body a stiff cage around me.

Without knowing any of my inner anxiety, Nick was putting himself on the line. Waiting for my response to his questions.

I sucked in a wobbly breath and let his words settle in. Bit my lower lip and felt the hot rush of relief sweep through me. He wanted me—not just for his bed, but for more.

A relationship. It was right there in his voice, in the breath he held trapped in his lungs.

“I want this too, Nick,” I said quietly.

The tension leaked from his limbs, and he rested his forehead against my upper back. “We have to be careful.”

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“We can’t tell anyone else what’s going on, at least not until you graduate.” His voice grew stronger. “I don’t like lying, but it’s the safest option right now. The semester will be over before we know it.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” I said as I spun around and faced him, my knees on the mattress right between his thighs.