Coming Apart at the Seams (25 page)

She moaned, pressing the tips of her fingers against her forehead.
What am I going to do?

A hollow clicking sound drew her attention, and she turned toward the noise. Nick leaned against the closed door, his arms crossed over his chest. As he stared at her, his green eyes reflected the bright sunshine filtering through the windows.

Even though she told herself not to ogle him, her eyes traveled up and down his long body. It was unfair, but he seemed to get hotter as the years passed. He was a man in his prime, and heaven help her, he was delicious.

Someone must have told him that Riley O'Brien & Co.'s dress code was casual, meaning that most employees wore Rileys and T-shirts to work. Dressing up meant a button-down shirt and Rileys, and that was exactly what Nick wore.

His long-sleeved shirt was a muted blue-and-orange-checked pattern, and it emphasized his broad shoulders and strong chest. Since his arms were crossed, the material stretched over his big biceps, and she had a fleeting memory of clutching those muscles as he rose above her to thrust inside her.

Unlike Quinn and Cal, who usually left their shirts untucked, Nick's shirt was tucked into his dark-washed Rileys, showing his toned abdomen. His brown leather belt cinched his lean waist, and his jeans cupped his package and skimmed his powerful thighs before falling to his brown leather shoes.

Dropping his arms, Nick pushed away from the door and walked toward her with a long-legged, masculine stride that looked just as good from the front as it did from the back. He was unhurried, but she didn't bother to move, knowing he'd catch her before she made it to the door. Plus, this was
her
office, and she wasn't going to be chased out of it.

He stopped in front of her, plucked the file folder from her hands, and tossed it on the table behind her. Then he touched the rim of her glasses, the corner of his mouth kicking up.

“Hot librarian.”

His comment shocked her so much a snort-laugh escaped her. He smiled at the funny sound, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

Pressing his thumb against her bottom lip, he stroked lightly. She nervously licked the inside of her lip and accidentally caught the tip of his thumb. His eyes darkened, the verdant irises nearly obliterated by his expanded pupils. An ache settled between her legs, and she shifted on her high-heeled boots to squeeze her thighs together.

“You need to leave.”

Nick crowded closer, and she backed up until the conference table hit her upper legs. She stumbled, and he grabbed her around the waist and placed her on the cold surface.

She stared up into his face, knowing where this was going. She needed to stop him, and she could only think of one thing that might give him pause: the truth. Although she didn't want
to admit how much he had hurt her, maybe he would leave her alone if she told him.

“Nick, I can't do this with you.” She looked down, squeezing her fingers around the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. “You don't understand how much you hurt me.”

He sucked in a breath as if she'd punched him in the stomach. After a long moment, he placed his palms against her face and gently tilted her head up. His eyes were solemn, his full lips compressed into a tight, straight line.

“If you care about me at all, you'll leave me alone,” she added.

He made a rough noise in the back of his throat before letting his hands fall from her face. Slowly, he closed his eyes and dropped his head back. He swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple jumping in his tan throat.

He took one step back, and then a couple more. Relieved, she exhaled in a rush, glad she'd been honest with him. She scooted forward to slide off the table, and he brought his head forward and speared her with his green gaze.

“Give me another chance,” he said slowly. “Please.”

His words made her stomach tremble. At one time, she would have done anything to be with him, but he didn't deserve another chance. He had abandoned her once, and there was no reason to think he wouldn't do it again.

“No.”

Her voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise. She couldn't go through loving him and losing him again. She
wouldn't
.

“I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I won't hurt you again.” He cleared his throat again, harder this time. “Give me another chance.”

There was a part of her that wanted to trust him . . . a part of her that wanted to give him another chance. And that made her angry and scared.

“You don't deserve another chance,” she said.

She needed the reminder. She needed to remind herself that this man had almost destroyed her once, and he would do it again if she let him.

He studied her for a long moment, his body still and his face blank. She shifted so she could wriggle off the table, but he
placed his big hand in the middle of her chest and gently pushed her back.

“Don't, Nick . . .”

But her protest died in her throat as he moved between her knees. Using his lower body, he widened her legs until he was wedged between them. He flattened his hands on the table just inches from her hips, leaning over her until she had to brace herself on her elbows.

Once he had her where he wanted her, he reached between them to unbutton her blouse. She balanced on one elbow to slap at his hands, but he just swatted her away. His long fingers were fast and nimble, and he had her silky top open within seconds. He pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms, where it caught in the crook of her elbows.

He stared down at her breasts, and the heat in his eyes ignited a fire low in her pelvis. He stroked his fingers across the lace that edged the top of her bra before unhooking the front closure and pulling the material apart. Her breasts fell free, bouncing heavily.

Groaning softly, he cupped her breasts in his warm hands. The hardened tips of her nipples poked the center of his palms.

“
Fucking fantastic
,” he murmured, his words barely audible.

He shaped her breasts, squeezing gently and occasionally brushing a thumb over her nipples. His fingers were callused from handling footballs, and she squirmed with pleasure, loving the way they rasped over her sensitive skin.

Rolling a hard peak between his thumb and forefinger, he lightly scraped his nail over the tip before squeezing gently. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a moan, and he abruptly pulled her to a sitting position.

She covered her breasts, embarrassed and ashamed she'd let things go so far. She hated the effect he had on her body almost as much as she hated the effect he had on her common sense.

She scooted forward to slide off the table, but he gently pushed her back again. Jerking one of the mesh chairs closer, he sat down in front of her and pulled her hands away from her chest.

The new position put his face almost even with her breasts, and he leaned forward until he was nose deep between them. He nuzzled against her, his stubble prickly and tickly, before licking circles down her cleavage.

He trailed his tongue across one of her breasts to pull a nipple into his mouth. He sucked deeply, and she felt it between her legs. More wetness flowed from her body, and she wondered if she was going to come just from his mouth on her nipples.

He bit down gently on the sensitive peak before swirling his tongue around it, back and forth, until her pulse pounded between her legs and in her ears. He pressed against her nipple with his tongue, and she quivered from the soft pressure.

Turning to her other nipple, he lavished it with the same attention. She clenched her fingers in his hair, holding his hot mouth against her when he sucked strongly. He gripped her knees as he nibbled the tip of her breast, sliding his callused hands up her thighs before tracing the edge of her panties.

She spread her legs, eager to feel his long fingers inside her, and he released her nipple with a soft pop. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her forward until her butt almost hung off the table.

He wrestled her skirt up to her waist before hooking his fingers in the top of her panties. She raised her hips, and he yanked the fragile lace down her thighs. It got stuck on the zipper of one of her boots, and he growled, his chest heaving.

He clenched his hand around the panties, and she expected him to tear them apart like he had in the linen closet, but he took a deep breath and carefully disentangled them from the zipper. Once they were loose, he pulled them over her boots and free from her sharp heels.

He looked down, his eyes focused on the space between her legs. When she'd lived in Boston, she had been bare except for a landing strip, but it had grown out since then. He petted the springy curls, smoothing them downward with tiny strokes. Clearing his throat, he met her eyes.

“Perfect,” he said, his voice hoarse.

He traced her labia with the tips of his fingers before delving between them. He slowly eased two fingers inside her, and she squirmed from the delicious pressure.

He pushed deeper, and she gasped as arousal spilled from her body. He groaned, moving his hand to stroke her clit at the same time he thrust his fingers inside her. He flicked it lightly, and a jolt went through her.

She looked down, moaning when she saw the erotic vision of his strong hand working between her legs, glistening with her juice. She rocked her hips against his hand, faster and faster, and watched as he followed her rhythm. Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, and she almost sobbed in disappointment. She had been so
close
.

He stood, kicking the chair away from him. It skidded across the floor on its rollers before crashing into her desk. Pulling her to her feet, he turned her until she leaned over the conference room table with her butt in the air. He pressed his knee between her thighs to widen them, and she heard the metallic rasp of his zipper behind her.

A moment later he reached under her and flattened his hand against her stomach. He pressed gently, pushing her toward him, and the broad head of his penis probed her body. She pulled in a breath as he nudged inside her. They'd never had sex in this position, and he felt different.

Hotter, harder, thicker.

She moaned as he pressed deep, filling her so completely she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. He shuddered behind her, and she could tell how excited he was from his labored breathing.

Moving his hands to her hips, he caressed them with long strokes of his fingers. After a long moment, he began a slow, steady rhythm, and she braced her hands against the table and pushed back against him so he could go as deep as possible. The feel of him inside her made her vision blur, and she cried out when he hit a deliciously sensitive spot. He froze, his fingers clenching on her hips.

“Please don't stop,” she begged. “Please don't stop. I need more.”

He groaned and began to thrust deeply inside her in a fast, hard rhythm. Sliding his hand from her hip, he found her clit and squeezed it between his fingers, rubbing gently as he surged into her.

Her orgasm crashed over her, unexpected, and she cried out, her internal muscles pulsing against his hardness, milking him strongly. The intensity of it made her vision go dark.

Nick groaned harshly, pressing his hand against her and rooting deeply with his penis. He shouted, jerking inside her
as he came. She tightened her vaginal muscles to prolong his orgasm, and he let out a strangled moan.

She let her head drop forward, resting her forehead on the cool glass of the table. Her body still vibrated with the remnants of her orgasm, and every few seconds, she felt a small pulse from him.

Somehow, every time they had sex, it was even better than the last time. It had been like that the first time they'd been together. Each time, the sex had been hotter, the orgasms more powerful.

She sighed as he slowly withdrew from her body. Fluid dribbled down her inner thighs, and she froze, instinctively knowing what it was. She twisted around to face him, staring into his eyes. He looked shell-shocked, exactly the way she felt.

“Nick . . .” she gasped, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. “Please, please tell me you used a condom.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. She pushed his chest, panicked and angry, and he stumbled backward.

“Oh, my God!”

Pregnancy didn't concern her. She had learned her lesson, and she'd gone on birth control pills after she had recovered from her miscarriage. But she knew Nick was beyond promiscuous, and she was worried he might have given her a horrible disease. She sucked in a deep breath, almost hyperventilating.

“Do you forget condoms a lot? When was the last time you were tested for STDs? How many women have you been with since you were tested? Am I going to need antibiotics? Or antivirals?”

Her voice had risen with each question until she had nearly shouted. Nick gripped her shoulders, hugging her to him.

“T, calm down.”

“Calm down!” she shrieked, jerking away from him. “Calm down! We just had unprotected sex!”

Wrenching down her skirt, she cringed as semen trickled out of her. She fumbled with her shirt, frantic to cover her exposed breasts. Her trembling fingers couldn't manage the buttons so she tugged the fabric together in her fist.

Nick stepped in front of her and curved his hand around the back of her neck. He leaned down until his face was inches away from hers.

“I'm clean.”

“How do you know?” she asked suspiciously.

“No sex.” He cleared his throat. “No sex since I moved to Nashville.”

She laughed in disbelief, jerking her neck sideways so he'd release her. He held tight, and she stopped struggling for fear she'd sever her spinal cord.

“That was more than two years ago. There's no way you could,
or would
, go that long without sex.”

He lightly squeezed the back of her neck as he stared into her eyes. “Celibate.” He squeezed her neck again. “For you.”