Montana Rescue (The Wildes of Birch Bay Book 2) (17 page)

His motions were slow, but Harper felt every one of them to her core. He cupped her face in both of his hands and took his time making love to her mouth. Then he kissed her eyelids and grazed his lips across her temple and to her ear.

He pressed soft nibbles along the shell of her ear as his fingers inched down the front of her shirt and slipped the buttons free one by one. After sliding the last free, he leaned back and slowly spread the material wide. She wore a tiny pale-green lace bra that closed in the front, and at that moment, she couldn’t have been happier with her selection.

Nick seemed pretty pleased with it himself, as his thumb scraped along the dip in the center of her stomach and slipped under the bra’s hook. His gaze found hers, and her lips parted on a breath. His slow and gentle moves were more than she was used to with him, but she found it was exactly what she wanted. The clasp slipped free, and she sucked in a breath as he parted that material, as well. The cooler afternoon air brushed over her, but Nick didn’t look down at her body. Not yet. He kept his attention focused on her face.

He kissed her again, taking his time once more, while his hands stroked over her. He touched her in a way she might have guessed him incapable of before she’d gotten to know him, and though his careful, easy moves had her more than ready to progress to the next step, she also found herself with the desire to go even slower. Nick seemed to want that, too, as after he tugged the remainder of her clothing from her body, he shed his own and carefully eased down beside her. No condom appeared, and he moved as if they had all night.

He continued doing exactly as she’d asked. Making love to her. And her eyes grew hot with surprising pressure. So hot that she thought her long-awaited tears were about to make an appearance. But she didn’t cry. Not with Nick. She simply soaked in every touch and heartfelt move he made.

And when he finally pulled a condom from his wallet, there were still no hurried movements. He kissed her while he rolled it on, and when he stretched his body over hers, he lifted her arms above her head. He slid his rougher palms down the length of her, from her hands to the sides of her hips. And only then did he finally lift her gently and position himself between her legs.

And when he pushed in, fitting to her so perfectly, it seemed in that second as if he’d been made for that very spot.

Chapter Sixteen

A
cool breeze brushed over them later that evening, and Nick found himself lifting the blue strands of Harper’s hair and running the chunks, one by one, through his fingers. The two of them were tucked under a blanket he’d brought out earlier, and they’d just made love again.

“Your hair was the first thing that attracted you to me,” he told her. “I’d never seen a girl with pink hair before.”

She lay draped on top of him, and her lazy smile implied his revelation was no surprise.

“I take it you’ve heard that from guys before?”

The corners of her lips inched higher. “Boys think girls with funky hair are funky in other ways, too. They were always bummed to learn that my hair was more about my rebellion over frilly dresses and being made to look like my younger sisters than an announcement of my wanton ways.”

“I’m sure you broke many hearts with that news.”

“Maybe. But I rarely cared. I had more important things to worry about.”

“Like saving puppies and feeding the hungry?” At her nod, he asked, “That why Thomas was your first?” He’d wondered how she’d gotten out of high school a virgin. “Because you were always too busy with a cause?”

She lay perfectly still on top of him. “Thomas was my first because I loved him.”

Her sincere words proved to Nick yet again than she was far more than met the eye. And he was lucky to have the honor of being her second. He slid his palm up her spine, enjoying the silk of her skin and reveling in the fact that he could roll her over and go yet again. He couldn’t get enough of this woman.

Her fingers trailed down his bare arm. Across the lake, the sun began to set.

“This afternoon,” Harper began, her words as soft as the moment. “It was different between you and me.”

This, from was the woman who, until today, hadn’t let him hold her unless he’d been inside her. He was surprised she’d acknowledged it. He slid his palm back down her body, not stopping until he reached the top curve of her rear.

“Are you okay with that?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She lifted her head and looked at him. “It’s scary.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he told her. But he wasn’t so sure that was true. Today had been a lot more than sex, and it scared the crap out of him, too. “It was just a new thing for us.”

Harper watched him as if waiting for him to change his mind, but he kept his fears to himself. He’d never done more than sex before. He had no idea what this afternoon meant, if anything, and honestly, he didn’t want to think about the implications.

Finally, she settled her cheek back to his chest, and her breaths danced through his chest hair. He closed his eyes and let his senses enjoy the moment. He could feel her soft breasts just above his waistband, the remaining heat between her thighs, and her toes wiggling along the tops of his feet. It was a moment he suspected would stay with him forever.

“This is a gorgeous view,” she said.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Yes, it is.” He let both hands reach to the underside of her rear, and he cupped her in his fingers. “And I’m eventually going to come home to it.”

Once again, revelations he hadn’t intended to share came out, but this time he didn’t care. He
did
intend to return to Birch Bay, and saying the words out loud made it feel more real.

Harper didn’t respond to his statement, as if understanding that he didn’t really want to talk about it, and they both grew quiet. His breaths deepened as the night edged toward black, and he told himself they should move inside. If not, he’d be asleep within minutes, and as comfortable as he currently was, he didn’t think either of them would appreciate the accommodations after spending a night out on the deck.

“I was brutal to my family afterward.” Harper’s tone matched the quietness of the night, but her words immediately woke Nick back up. He opened his eyes. She was talking about after the accident.

“How so?”

“I tried to run everyone off.”

He felt her body tense.

“They came over every day the first week. After that I wouldn’t let them in the house, and I only answered the phone so they’d stay away. But a few weeks into it, I got angry. I yelled at anyone who called. I tried hard to shove them away.”

Nick soothed her with his hands, not knowing how else to help. He sensed her need to get more out, so he remained silent.

“After a week of that, my mom showed up and wouldn’t leave. I ignored her, but when she made a bed on my porch, I couldn’t stand it. So I let her in. She stayed four nights before I would talk to her.” A puff of air tickled his chest with her soft laugh. “I love my mother, but I was so angry with her for being there. Then a report of a missing hiker came on the news, and I just started talking. I didn’t seem to have control of my words. I yelled about how unfair life could be, and I spewed hate. But it was cathartic. I didn’t provide details of the accident, but I showed her what I felt.” She lifted her head and shot him a smirk. “And then I made her leave and I redecorated the house, turning the entire first floor white.”

His eyed went wide. “White?”

“Everything,”
she stressed. “It’s ghastly. I don’t know why white. I had all this stupid money that I didn’t want, and I was in a giant house all alone. We’d decorated those rooms together, Thomas and I. And everything we’d picked out suddenly made me furious every time I saw it. So I turned it all white.”

He touched a knuckle to her chin. “You’re a strong woman, Harper Stone.”

“Yeah. But I might be borderline nuts.”

He grinned. “Probably. “

A gorgeous smile was his reward before she rested her hands on his chest, and propped her chin on top of them. “Now it’s your turn,” she announced.

“My turn to what?”

“To tell me your secrets.”

Her quick change caught him off guard. “Maybe I just have one secret,” he hedged. He assumed she wanted to know about his mother.

“Save the denial, cowboy. You’re not the only one who can read people. You’re a good man, a charming one, and you have lots of happy groupies.”

He looked down his nose at her. “You are so jealous of my groupies.”

She grinned wide. “I might be. But that’s not the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“You are. You have a charmed life. Or on the outside, you seem to. Yet you long for a home you could have returned to years ago, something holds you back from taking your career to the next level”—she gave him a tender smile—“and you hurt because of your mother.”

Her ability to read him so well moved him. And he found that he liked that she’d been able to do that.

“So tell me about your mother.”

He grunted. “Now?”

“Seems the time for it, doesn’t it? No one is around to interrupt us. Plus”—she touched one fingertip to his lips—“I shared mine.”

He kissed her finger. “You did share yours.” And because she had, he figured he owed her one. But it was more than the payment that made him willing to talk. He
wanted
to share his past with Harper.

The realization made him think of that first night he’d run into her at the rodeo. He’d just walked away from Betsy and had been wondering if he were missing a key ingredient to being “normal.” To being able to react in a “typical” fashion toward the woman he was sleeping with. Yet with Harper, it wasn’t a question at all. He wouldn’t even let himself entertain the idea of Harper having sex with anyone else—at least not while he was having sex with her—and he found himself
wanting
to tell her his secrets. He’d never had the desire for anything more than a physical experience with any other woman in his life. The knowledge was both worrisome and comforting. He held on to the comfort and ignored the worry.

“Okay,” he finally said, returning to the here and now. He would give her what she asked.

But before uttering another word, the large windows that made up the back of the house captured his attention. He couldn’t see through the dark panes at the moment, but he could easily picture his mother standing just on the other side. She’d been beautiful. Always. Polished in clothes and appearance, with never a single dark hair out of place.

Yet appearances could be misleading. Just as their rustic home had deceivingly implied warmth and love, on the inside, his mother had been as cold as ice.

He turned back to Harper. “My mother had issues,” he blurted out.

She nodded as if in understanding. “What kind of issues?”

“The kind you want to run away from.” He closed his eyes and began his story. He couldn’t talk about his mother with Harper directly in his face.

“Everyone in town thought we were a perfect family,” he explained. “Parents in love, thriving family business, six happy kids. But the reality was, none of that was true.” Even the business had been a struggle a lot of the time. “Our lives might have looked pretty from the outside, but they were rough at home. And that was all because of her.”

He waited for Harper to comment, but when she didn’t, he opened his eyes and stared at the stars coming out above them.

“I was ten when she died, and at that point, I had no idea that anything was wrong with her. I just knew that she didn’t love me. And the thing was, not only did she
not
love me, but she made it a point to tell me that she loved my brothers more.”

A soft inhalation hit his ears, and Harper cupped his cheek in her hand. “How cruel,” she whispered. Her words were harsh. “You deserved better than that.”

He swallowed. They’d all deserved better.

“Then there was the fact that she would hurt herself sometimes.” He lost focus on the stars as he remembered what his life had been life. “It was only a handful of times. Three, I think. But she’d put herself in danger to get the attention she wanted.

“No. That’s not right. To get the
control
she wanted.” He looked down at Harper. “She had something called narcissistic personality disorder. If attention wasn’t on her, then she found a way to make it so. People worrying about her gave her that attention.” He thought about how as a small boy, he’d worried about her more than anyone had known. He’d tried to help, to make her happy. He’d wanted her not to feel bad and be stressed all the time.

But he’d never been able to figure out what he could do to make it better.

“I actually caught her hurting herself once,” he shared. A lump formed in his throat. “I was five.”

“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

He could feel Harper’s heart pounding against his chest. “She cut off the tip of her finger,” he said. His words were flat. “Literally, cut it off. She caught me watching from the hallway, and screamed that I couldn’t tell anyone. So I ran away and hid in my closet, afraid that if I did tell, then she’d
never
love me.”

Harper slid her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest.

“Only, guilt ate at me,” he continued. “Maybe if she’d loved me to begin with, she wouldn’t have done it. Or maybe I should have run immediately and told someone in order to show her how much I cared.”

He groaned and put the back of his hand to his forehead as he once again stared at the sky. “But then I figured out that she’d cut herself only because she wanted my sister to come home. Dani was in New York City with our aunt. She was having fun, and Mom couldn’t stand it. She would have done anything to get Dani back at that moment, and the sad thing was,
I
hadn’t mattered in the least. I’d worried myself sick—to the point that I threw up while hiding in my closet—and I had never factored into the equation at all.”

“Your mom was ill.”

“Yes. Very. But I didn’t get any of that at the time. That she brought the problems on herself. That she had a mental issue.” And then he realized what Harper had said. He peered down at her. “You sound like you know something about NPD.”

“I had a friend in the army. Her mother was similar.”

“It wasn’t Thomas?” He asked the question carefully, praying he wasn’t stepping into another minefield.

“No. Though, his parents had other issues. But I did some research on the matter after I learned about it, and from what I remember, I doubt your mom really loved anybody but herself.”

“You’re right, that’s typical. And no, she didn’t.”

“But you didn’t understand that at the time?”

“Right.”

“And you still aren’t convinced of it now?”

Nick stared at her, appreciative of her intuitiveness, and finding that he needed to make her see how he felt. He’d never been able to share these things with Nate. How could he? His mother had beaten into his head that she’d loved Nate more. And though the wedge that had once been driven between the two of them had long since disappeared, he still struggled to talk specifics with his closest brother. “I am convinced of it now,” he finally answered. “I know it. I’ve known it for years.”

“But . . .”

He didn’t take his eyes off Harper. “But at ten years old, I just wanted her to love me. And instead, she died. I took that as my fault.”

“No!” She pushed up off his chest. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“If only I’d made her love me enough,” he said. “If only I’d been tough enough.” He shook his head, feeling like the little boy he’d once been. “Then she wouldn’t have left us.”