Coming Home (17 page)

"The moonlight didn't do you justice," he managed to say, in spite of the sudden dryness of his mouth. He reached out one hand and slid it from the nape of her neck down across one lovely breast, pausing briefly to stroke at the rosy tip with the rough pad of his thumb. Moaning, she closed her eyes, obviously enjoying his touch.

Dying to do everything they’d done the night before all over again, Wyatt bent far enough to run his tongue down the high curve of her breast. He slid his mouth across the taut peak, hearing her emit a soft cry. Smiling, he sucked the tender skin into his mouth and lightly grazed his teeth on her pert nipple.

“Don’t stop.”

“As if.”

No way was he going to stop. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to stop.

He continued to taste her as he reached up to caress her with his other hand, plumping her breast, tweaking the nipple. She was writhing now, pressing her hips hard against his, groaning as her sex pressed against his rock-hard cock.

"I suddenly feel under-dressed," she said.

"We can't have that," he replied. Wyatt quickly stripped out of his clothes.

She ate him with her eyes, staring at him so intently he had to wonder what she was thinking.

Then she made it clear. “I can’t believe I forgot how beautiful you are.”

He didn’t shrug off the compliment, didn’t laugh. He merely replied, “Ditto.”

Sinking his hands into her hair, he kissed her again, loving the press of her pert, damp nipples against his chest hair.

When they finally broke apart, he asked, "Ready to get wet?"

"Already there."

He chuckled as he slid his palms down her waist and caught her panties. He pushed them down slowly, so slowly, knowing the brush of the fabric on her skin would heighten her anticipation. Until finally she was naked as well, wearing nothing but the afternoon sunshine and a sultry smile.

Reaching up, she scraped her fingernails—the natural ones, this time—across his chest. “You...look...like you need to cool off," she said.

Wyatt didn't know what she planned to do until she placed both palms against his chest and shoved him into the pool. He sunk beneath the surface, and came up with laughter on his lips.

“The water might be cold, but it sure as hell didn’t cool me off, Nick.”

Staring up at her, he raised one hand, beckoning for her to join him. She walked to the edge of the pool. Naked. Glorious. And dove right over his head into the deep end.

He swam after her, loving the glide of her wet body against his as she came to the surface. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her the few feet to the built-in seat in the deep end of the pool. He sat on the ledge and pulled her onto him, finding her heat in the coolness of the water. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her tightly against him. She wrapped her legs around him and he slid into her easily.

Wyatt couldn't say anything. Couldn't think anything. He could only feel. Her hips bucked hard, and her body jerked as she seemed to stroke him from deep within. He felt her tighten around him and his own reaction was overwhelming. He knew he could thrust twice and find complete satisfaction, but wouldn't until he was sure she'd be right there with him.

Sliding his hand between their bodies, he slid his fingers down her body. She hissed into his ear as he stroked her. They moved together. They thrust together. Eventually they came together. It was sheer perfection.

Wyatt woke up with Nicole in his arms. They had pulled themselves out of the pool, their bodies wrinkled and pruney and weak from their strenuous lovemaking. They'd left a trail of water through the house as they went seeking towels, and had made their way to his bedroom for a short afternoon nap.

He glanced at the clock, realizing they'd only slept for an hour, then looked down at Nicole's peaceful face. Her makeup was smeared. Her hair, which she hadn't brushed after they got out of the water, had dried in a mass of tangles and curls.

She was beyond beautiful. Wyatt suddenly felt a tightness in his throat, a weight on his chest. He slid out from under her arm and sat up on the side of the bed. Standing, he walked naked across the room and glanced out at the pool.

Just a few days before, he'd stood in this exact spot and figured that if he just got Nicole back into his bed, he'd be able to get her out of his mind. And his heart.

"Wrong," he whispered. He was falling in love with her all over again.

This was not the way it was supposed to happen. Exorcising demons was supposed to be about moving forward, not getting sucked into the past. Making the same mistakes all over again.

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder as Nicole made a noise and rolled over in her sleep. The sheet slipped down over one exquisite breast and his heart skipped a beat as he admired her.

“Stop it,” he told himself. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. What he needed was to get over Nicole, not love her. Loving her had practically ruined his life. So what kind of fool would he be to give her so much power over him again?

A fool who’d never gotten over her, perhaps.

He shook his head slowly, torn between walking back over to that bed and taking her into his arms or leaving the room and letting her wake up alone. If she did, she’d get the message that something had changed. It would make things easier.

But oh, God, did he love watching her sleep in his arms. It was almost as good as watching her wake up in his arms and give him that soft, sexy smile.

He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or what she’d do about this mystery boyfriend of hers. All he knew was that he might not ever have this chance again. So, like an addict who simply couldn’t stay away from his addiction, he went back to the bed and pulled her onto his chest.

Reality would return soon enough, whether he wanted it to or not. For now…well, for this moment, he’d take the fantasy that everything would be all right between them.

Nicole woke up warm and comfortable. She snuggled against Wyatt’s body, twining her fingers in the spiky hair on his chest, sliding her leg between his.

“Are you awake?” she murmured.

He looked down at her and smiled. But the smile looked forced, as if something was on his mind. Nicole suddenly felt ill at ease. "Is something wrong?"

He squeezed her tighter. “No. Everything’s fine.”

She swallowed hard and licked her lips. They were in a vulnerable position—about as intimate as two people could be. They were happy, they were comfortable, they both seemed to want to keep moving forward.

So maybe it was time to at least broach the subject they’d been avoiding for so long.

“Wyatt, about Justin…”

“Don’t,” he snapped, immediately pulling away from her.

She felt tears sting her eyes, but was determined to see this through. “We have to talk about this…he’s going to be here next weekend and I want us to straighten this out before he gets here. We have to figure out what to say to him.”

"We?" Wyatt sneered. "I don't think so. That's your responsibility?"

"Hasn't it been my responsibility long enough?" she asked.

"I don't know, has it?" he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He rolled to the edge of the bed and stood up. "I mean, how the hell am I supposed to know. Is this the first time you've cheated on him? How long have you been seeing him, anyway?"

Nicole sat up straight, not understanding what he was talking about. She watched as Wyatt pulled some clothes out of a drawer and began to dress. Her clothes were still outside by the pool, so she clutched the sheet tighter.

"I'm sorry,” he continued. “I know it's none of my business. Obviously you and I have both been free to live our own lives. But I can't help it, Nicole. I can't help this anger I get in the pit of my stomach when I think about this guy. I've pictured him, you know? I mean, from the day you came back to town and I first heard about him, I've had this picture in my head of this perfect, rich, snob ‘lawyer type’...just like your mother predicted all those years ago."

Something hard formed in the pit of her stomach. "My mother?"

"Yeah. Your mother," he said, disgust evident in his voice. "In our one and only conversation she predicted the kind of man you would end up with, and he sure as hell wasn't like me."

Wyatt had spoken with her mother? He thought Justin was some kind of boyfriend? "I don't understand," she murmured, her head spinning. The whole world seemed out of balance suddenly and she couldn’t make any sense of it.

"I know. I guess she never told you, since it was too late anyway. The truth is, Nick, my grandfather messed things up all those years ago. When he found out you were pregnant, he assumed Brady was the father, and he contacted him, not me.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and began to fall freely down her cheeks. That was why he hadn't come right away. He hadn't known.

He looked away, as if ashamed. “Brady was the one who said those awful things about you. I didn’t even find out about Grandfather’s phone call for weeks. I came home as soon as I heard about it, but found out you had already left Florida.”

“And then?”

"I went to Baltimore, tracked down your address, but I couldn’t get past the servants. Finally your mother let me in, saying you were away at school.” He swallowed visibly. “She told me everything."

"Everything."

He nodded. Nicole saw the tightness of his jaw and the white knuckles gripping the top of his dresser, upon which he leaned.

"What, exactly, did she tell you?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know. Because if her mother had kept this secret from her for all these years, had kept Wyatt away from her for a decade, whatever she’d said must have been pretty horrible.

He shook his head, looking as if he regretted starting the conversation. She watched as he fumbled around in his drawer and pulled out a clean tee shirt. Tossing it to her on the bed, he said, "We don't have to get into this right now. I mean, you were practically a kid. I hated you for it back then, but now I recognize what a mess you thought you were in. That controlling mother of yours...you thinking I'd run out on you. I can understand that you felt desperate."

Nicole wrapped her arms around her waist and drew her legs up. She heard the bitterness in his voice but there was something else. A hurt so deep it was painful to listen to. Her stomach churned and she thought she might be sick. But she had to know it all.

"Tell me," she ordered. "Tell me what she told you."

He hesitated one more moment, then finally gave her his full attention, his eyes holding so much emotion it pained her to look at them.

"She told me the truth. That you killed our child."

Nicole felt the bile rise in her throat. Her head began spinning and she clutched at the covers to regain her balance.

Wyatt continued, "She explained how she wanted you to have an abortion but you didn't want to because of your beliefs. And she told me you took a mean-spirited horse out for a ride on a stormy afternoon. You rode hard and fast and urged him over fences until he threw you. So you would miscarry."

"Oh, my God," she moaned as sobs tried to burst from her mouth.

"I hated you so much, Nicole. I mean, standing there, listening to your mother tell me how pleased she was that you'd managed to take care of your little problem so neatly, leaving you feeling guiltless and free to go off to college and find someone more suitable. Especially after all the times you and I talked about what my own mother had done to me, and the way you said you couldn't understand how a woman couldn't want her child. I just thought you were the most deceitful person I'd ever met."

"That distinction belongs to someone else," she whispered.

He didn't know. Wyatt had no idea that Justin existed, that he was his son. Nicole couldn't think, could barely breathe. All these years. All the anguish and the anger she had felt that he'd never even tried to contact her fell away as she recognized what her mother had done. Not just to Wyatt, but to Justin. To her.

She’d stolen the life Nicole had wanted more than anything in the world.

And she’d stolen Wyatt’s entire family.

"My God, no wonder you hate me."

Wyatt smiled at her, but the expression looked more like a grimace. She saw the brightness in his own eyes and suspected he'd struggled to hold back tears as he purged his memories.

"You were so young. So scared and confused. And you can't know for sure. If that baby wasn't meant to be born, you could just as easily have miscarried while taking a shower. You can't be certain it was your fault."

He was forgiving her for something she hadn’t done. Something she, herself would have found utterly unforgivable.

She couldn't respond. What could she say? How could she possibly explain? Nicole's body shook. Silent tears continued to slide down her face, across her lips and onto her lap. Wyatt looked away, glancing again out the back doors, as if he couldn't quite trust himself to look at her. She couldn't blame him.

"I think I’ve finally managed to come to terms with it,” he said. “Maybe I've forgiven the past. We both made mistakes. If only I'd never let my grandfather bully me into going off to Europe. If only I'd called you, not been so wrapped up in excitement at finally having my mother pay some attention to me. I was nineteen, but I swear, those first few weeks in Europe, I felt like I was five again, wondering if my mother might actually show up for Christmas and being shocked when she actually got me a present.”