Coming Apart at the Seams (11 page)

Bebe took a big swallow of her wine before carefully returning the glass to the coffee table. She pressed her lips together, and Teagan feared her best friend was about to let loose with a lecture.

“Because you're making an assumption. You don't know for sure.”

Teagan snorted. “We've been hanging out for months,
months
, and he's never once indicated he's interested.”

“I think Nick is more than interested, Teagan. I think he has feelings for you.”

“
What?
Why would you say that? You've only met him one time.”

“Because of the way he reacted when he found out that JD assaulted you.”

Teagan frowned.
JD.
What an asshole.

Teagan had reported JD's assault to the Boston police. She also had notified Harvard and encouraged the university to sever all ties with Price, Latham & Donaldson. And finally, she had filed a formal complaint with the law firm's HR department. She'd done all she could to prevent JD from ever hurting another woman again.

Bebe continued, “When I told Nick what happened, the look on his face was scary. If JD had been within touching distance, I think he would have killed him.”

Teagan nodded. “He's very protective of me,” she agreed. “I think he sees himself as a big brother, since Quinn and Cal aren't here.”

Bebe shook her head stubbornly. “He cares about you.”

“I have no doubt that he cares about me. He's an honorary member of the O'Brien family, and he cares about all of us.”

Bebe threw up her hands. “Fine! Have it your way. Nick Priest considers you a friend and nothing more. In fact, he thinks of you as an annoying little sister and not a woman at all. Does that make you happy?”

Teagan stared at Bebe. “No,” she admitted. “It doesn't.”

Bebe nodded. “Of course it doesn't.” Her lips curled in a small smile. “You know, there's a very simple way to find out if I'm right. You can say: ‘I want to put my hands all over your body. Take off your clothes.' And if Nick rips off his shirt, you'll have your answer.”

“Oh, my God!” Teagan exclaimed, laughing incredulously. “You know you would never in a million years have the guts to say that to a guy, and you're suggesting that I do it? You are
crazy
, Bindu Banerjee.”

Bebe grinned. “Go for the prime rib,
kanya
.”

Nick sipped his hot cider, enjoying the crisp sweetness of apples and the warm bite of cinnamon against his tongue. Next to him, Teagan stumbled a bit on the uneven sidewalk, and he grabbed her arm with his free hand.

“Hold on to me,” he ordered.

“I should have worn tennis shoes,” she said as she linked her arm though his and wrapped her hand around his forearm. “I don't know what I was thinking. Stupid.”

They were strolling through the streets of historic Salem, Massachusetts, site of the infamous witch trials. Teagan had arranged for them to participate in a candlelit walking tour of haunted houses and locations, and tennis shoes definitely would have been more practical.

But he wasn't going to complain about her tight jeans and her high-heeled knee boots, not when she looked so damn good in them. She'd paired them with a cropped brown leather jacket, and he was grateful it hid the shape of her breasts, or he'd be fighting the urge to ogle those, too.

“It's much colder than I thought it would be,” Teagan said, shivering a little. “I should have worn a heavier jacket.”

They had been walking for a while, and they'd already visited several buildings, including the Old Salem Prison. Now
they were heading toward the Old Salem Burying Point, America's second oldest cemetery. Nick was interested to hear about the cemetery's inhabitants, particularly Colonel John Hathorne, the notorious Hanging Judge of the witch trials.

“Brrr.” She shivered again and burrowed closer to him. “You need to share some of your body heat.”

He bit back a groan as he thought about how he'd like to share his body heat, his bare skin sliding against hers, his cock moving deep inside her. She might be cold, but he was burning up.

He
never
should have accepted her invitation. He'd been an idiot to think he had enough self-control to withstand the temptation of Teagan.

He was so angry with Teagan, with himself, with the world. Why couldn't she be ugly and unattractive? Why couldn't he find her repulsive? Why couldn't she be a stranger whom he could fuck without worrying how it would mess up his life?

Why? Why? Why?

He didn't want to stop spending time with Teagan. He had more fun with her than he'd ever had with anyone else, and that included her brothers. In fact, she'd edged out Quinn for the title of best friend.

Despite the sharp edge of lust he felt when he was with Teagan, he was more relaxed and comfortable with her than he was with anyone else. He didn't feel pressure to talk, which helped his stuttering, and when he did speak, she understood him like no one else ever had.

She made him laugh. She made him think. She made him hard.

And that's the problem.

He took a deep breath, the smell of burning leaves and smoking chimneys filling his lungs. Maybe he was overreacting.

He doubted he'd be able to spend any time with Teagan over the next couple of months, since the Colonials were playing well and the pressure was on to make the playoffs. Plus, she'd be heading home for Thanksgiving in less than two weeks and then gone again for winter break, which lasted from mid-December to mid-January.

By then, he probably would have moved past this unfortunate attraction he had for her. He would probably laugh when
he thought about how worked up he'd been over a girl he had known for more than a decade.

“If I had lived here in the 1690s, I think I would have been hanged as a witch,” Teagan said.

Startled, Nick turned his head to look at her. The streets were lit with old-fashioned lanterns, but he couldn't see her expression.

“Because?”

“Because I'm trouble, you know that,” she joked, nudging her hip against him.

And truer words have never been spoken.

“Seriously, I have no doubt I would have done something to draw attention to myself, not on purpose, of course. Maybe I would have laughed too loudly or I would have bent the rules a little. And that would have been it.”

Nick pondered her statement. If anything, her looks would have drawn attention. He'd read that some of the women who'd been accused of witchcraft had been singled out because they had filled men around them with evil, impure thoughts. In other words, they'd incited lust.

Since Teagan incited lust in him, Nick could imagine she would have done the same thing to men in the seventeenth century. They wouldn't have been able to resist the lure of her smoky eyes and luscious lips.

“You, on the other hand, probably would have been seen as an angel. People would have thought God himself had sent you from Heaven.”

Her words shocked a laugh out of him. “Angel?” he repeated.

“They would have been blinded by your handsomeness,” she teased. “They never would have guessed your angelic looks hide a sinner.”

Teagan's voice had turned husky when she'd said “sinner,” making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Is she flirting with me?

He stared at her, wishing he could see her face. She joked and teased, but she never flirted.

Am I imagining things? Is it just wishful thinking?

She was right, though: he
was
a sinner. And he wanted to sin with her—on top of her, behind her, and inside her.

They reached the cemetery, and the guide spent a few minutes telling the group about Colonel John Hathorne. During the
trials, Hathorne had taken on the role of a prosecutor rather than an impartial judge. His questioning had always begun with a presumption of guilt rather than innocence, and he had appeared to be on the side of the accusers.

“What a jerk,” Teagan muttered. “Guess he never heard of judicial bias.”

Nick laughed softly. She was adorable.

“I'll never understand how people can just stand by and let bad things happen,” she added.

Unfortunately, Nick had personal experience with “bystander syndrome.” He'd been bullied because of his stuttering, and the other kids had stood by and watched because they didn't want to draw the attention of the bullies.

It was a sad fact of life that bullying occurred everywhere from school yards to corporate America. And obviously, it wasn't new. The Salem witch trials were proof of that.

The guide finished his spiel and encouraged them to explore the cemetery on their own for a few minutes before meeting back at the entrance. He handed out tapered candles and passed around a lighter.

Nick set his cider on one of the headstones and lit his candle before taking care of Teagan's. The candle bathed her face in light, making her creamy skin glow and her blue eyes shine.

“Ready to explore?” she asked.

Oh, yeah, he was ready to explore. But not a moldy old cemetery . . .

“Let's go this way,” she suggested, pointing to a path on their right.

With a nod, he grabbed his cider. He didn't want to be accused of littering a graveyard, for God's sake.

“I'm going to break my ankle,” Teagan predicted direly, curling her arm tightly around his. “I'm too klutzy to be poking around a cemetery in the dark.”

They stuck to the path and eventually came upon a headstone that was easily four times larger than the others. Teagan dropped his arm and stepped forward to run her fingers over the dates engraved on the stone.

“Twins,” she murmured. “They were only two years old when they died. How sad. I wonder what happened.”

She turned to face him. As she stepped forward, her heel
got caught on a loose piece of stone. She stumbled, dropping her candle as she tried to keep herself from falling.

He threw down his candle and cider to catch her. Grabbing her by the waist, he hauled her against his chest to steady her. She laughed breathlessly, and the sound rasped over his senses to settle in his groin.

Needing to put some space between them, he stepped away from her. His foot sank into a depression in the ground, and he stumbled backward, pulling her with him as he fell.

He landed with a thud on his back with Teagan sprawled on top of him. He lay there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and her hair covering his face. He got a whiff of vanilla and mint from the silky strands before blowing them away from his lips.

She squirmed, and he loosened his arms. Pressing her hands against his chest, she tried to push herself up, but she couldn't get purchase. She shifted, digging her knee into his thigh only an inch or so from his balls.

“Stop,” he growled, swatting her hard on the ass.

Teagan jerked against him but stilled. After a moment, she scooted down his body like a caterpillar until her legs straddled his waist. She sat up, her ass nestled against his cock. He'd already been revved up before she had fallen on him, and now he was fully erect.

She was trembling, and he settled his hands on her hips, digging his fingers into her jeans. Could she feel his hard-on?

It was completely dark without the candles, so he couldn't see her face. But he could hear her, and after a couple of seconds, he realized she was laughing softly.

He stared up at the stars. Maybe it was his imagination, but they seemed to be winking at him.

“I warned you this would happen,” she choked out between giggles.

I wish someone had warned me about you.

*   *   *

Teagan shifted on top of Nick's strong body, and his erection pressed against her. Even through their jeans, he was long and hard, and she widened her legs to settle more fully against him.

She thought about the conversation she'd had with Bebe. She would never get a better opportunity to find out if Nick was interested in her as more than a friend. His erection suggested that might be the case.

The thought made her breathless. She sucked in a lungful of cold air, providing some much-needed oxygen to her brain.

“Nick, do you have an erection?”

He tensed but didn't answer her. She wiggled backward so his erection was situated more toward her center than her butt, and he groaned.

“Do you?” she persisted.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice hoarse.

“Is it for me?”

She could hear his breathing in the dark, but she couldn't see his face. She wiggled again, a little shimmy, and he hissed something inaudible.

His hands clenched her hips hard before sliding toward her behind. He pressed her more firmly to him, and she rocked against his hardness. It felt so good she did it again, and he raised his hips to meet her.

“Is it for me?” she repeated when he didn't answer.

He cleared his throat. “No,” he replied finally. “It's just”—he hummed a little—“biology.”

Disappointment flooded her, along with a hefty dose of embarrassment. Of course his erection wasn't for
her
. Any normal man would get hard when a female body was plastered against his crotch.

She swung her leg over his body to kneel beside him. He sat up, and she could feel his breath against her face, scented with apple cider.

Teagan wanted to lean over and press her mouth against his. She wanted to lick his lips and suck on his tongue. But she knew he didn't want that. If he did, he would have rolled her beneath him and put his hands and mouth all over her.

Nick stood up, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to her feet. They were so close the front of her jacket touched his, and she battled the urge to lean against him.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

She was always apologizing to him for doing or saying
something stupid. But this was it. She wasn't going to spend any more time with him. She was only torturing herself.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Fans would put a hit out on me if you were hurt and unable to play.”

“Not hurt,” he muttered, dropping her hands.

She looked around, trying to spot the candles. The moon provided a little bit of illumination, but only enough to discern large shapes.

“Do you know where we are? How to get back to the entrance?”

She gave him a moment to answer. When he didn't, she continued.

“Do you have a secret superhero ability that allows you to see in the dark? I wish I had one that would make me disappear.”

He laughed softly, his breath stirring her hair. Her knitted cap had gone missing in the kerfuffle.

He found her elbow in the dark and turned her in the opposite direction. He clasped her hand, linking his fingers through hers, and tugged her along with him as he moved forward. Apparently, he wasn't lost and blind like she was.

She sighed, quite disheartened by the way the evening had disintegrated. She'd put a lot of thought into planning something fun, and she had been thrilled when Nick had accepted her invitation.

She wished now that she'd never come up with the idea to visit Salem or, at the very least, that she had been smart enough to wear sensible shoes. But she had wanted to look good for Nick. She had wanted to look sexy, and sensible shoes were the opposite of sexy.