Shutter: The Complete Series (11 page)

“I always cared for you; I came back so I could be closer to you. Maybe find my way back to us.”

“What?” I ask, shocked at the implication in his words.

“I loved you the whole time I was gone,” he says, and his eyes tighten then focus in the distance, the memory too painful to envision fully.

“Umm, I…” I try to say something, but I can’t seem to form words to his declaration. ‘I love you’ were words we’d never traded.

He laughs nervously, “I’m sure that’s a shock to hear; I know I never told you. I wanted to, but I never worked up the courage. The fear of you not feeling the same always stopped me.”

“I would have said it back, I definitely felt it.” The words flow from my mouth in a rush of honesty before I can stop to consider them.

“Really?” he asks, surprised, and a calm resolve touches his face.

“Yes, of course. At that time you were the only man I’d ever loved,” I say just as the thought hits me—he’s still the only man I’ve ever loved.

“Leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. I wish every day I could take it back.”

His body shifts, and he kneels between our chairs. My mind flashes through the cheesy proposal scenes of every romantic movie I’ve ever watched and panic spreads through my body.

He lifts my hand from its resting place on my leg, and his mouth opens. Before he has a chance to speak, I jump to my feet. The chair I was sitting in crashes to the ground, and I try my best to maneuver around it, but my leg gets caught in the armrest, and I tumble to the ground.

Before the impact resonates through my body I bounce back up. I’m not sure what my mind is thinking, but all I want to do is escape.

“I’m sorry, I have to go?” I squawk, but it comes out sounding more like a strangled question than an actual announcement.

“Brook?” he questions, his voice full of humor.

I stop my retreat to the front door and look back. A small smile is on his face, but he quickly wipes his hand over his mouth to push it away.

“Do you need a ride?” He asks then clears his throat as a laugh threatens to erupt.

I stand frozen and stare at him. He’s laughing at me. His words freaked me out, and now he’s laughing at me.

“Thank you for opening up to me,” he says rapidly. “That’s all I wanted to say; I had no other huge gesture in mind.” He waves his hand over where I’d been sitting.

A wide smile stretches across his face, and a small amount of calm eases my panic.

“Call me when you’re ready to talk some more, okay?” he adds then sits back in his chair.

I turn and speed walk to the front door, completely consumed with embarrassment.

Chapter 3

I am exhausted, mentally and physically. My mind wasn’t prepared for court today, and it definitely wasn’t prepared for Stephen. Knowing the reasons behind his leaving made me panic and feel nauseous all at once. I always suspected it was mostly due to his parents, but it’s nice to finally know. Although I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with the knowledge at this point in my life. If only he had come back a year ago; hell, even a month ago. If only…

All I want right now is to crawl into bed and sleep until I’m hauled back to court. As I approach the front door to my house, I’m surprised to see it standing wide open. I can’t see a damn thing; it’s pitch black inside with only small moonbeams shining through the greenery surrounding the entrance.

Either Brock decided to finally kick me out on my ass, or some greedy paparazzo decided the payoff for information about me would far outweigh his conviction for breaking and entering—assuming I’d call the police on him, which I wouldn’t. Either way, I’m beyond caring. There is not an ounce of give-a-damn left inside me tonight.

I poke my head around the doorway, looking left then right. My eyes can only make out the eerie flower shaped shadows from the sheer curtains covering my windows. I love the curtains, but at the moment, I want to rip them down and pretend I never purchased them. Before my hate filled rant about curtains leaves my head, I’m pulled through the door and slammed against the wall to the left of the door.

“Do you have no regard for your own safety, or were you expecting me?” His voice is just a whisper in my ear. Him, yes him, I still can’t bring myself to say his name.

“I…” I try to speak but he quickly quiets me with a light graze across my lips from a lone finger, teasing my mouth with the salty taste of his flesh.

“No, you don’t get to speak. You get to listen.” His fingers break the barrier of my lips and dip into my wet mouth, slowly stroking over my tongue. My eyes drift close at the feel of his touch then just as quickly as it appeared, it disappears.

The weight of his body deliberately leans into me until I can feel every curve and line, including the bulge between his legs.

“What…” I start to ask what the fuck he’s doing here, but he cuts my voice off by slamming his mouth into mine. He kisses me with a hunger so animalistic a shiver of fright rolls up my spine. A sharp pain shoots through my lips at the force, and I wait for the metallic taste of blood to follow, but it never comes because his tongue soothes over my lips slowly, a sense of longing replacing his urgent demand to kiss me. My skin feels the loss of his rough whiskers; they are gone, leaving only smoothness behind.

His hands fall to my shoulder to push one side of my scoop neck shirt down then he glides the pad of his thumb across my collarbone. Waves of tingles skate behind his touch. The other hand moves under my shirt and eases against my stomach. His breath is light on my skin, but steadily increases with every touch.

His hips rock against mine at a slow, methodical pace. His lips caress my shoulder with full, wet kisses. I shudder as his tongue as snakes out, tracing a long line across my shoulder and up to my ear. My eyes close, trying to savor the feel of him deeper, more freely. A small moan resonates from my throat, and he answers with a raspy groan that seems to want to silence me.

His head shifts, and I see his face cast in moonlight. His eyes are not focused on me; they are glassy and hooded with intent. In one swift movement, his hands grab my ass and lift me from my feet. My legs wrap around his body as he slams me into the wall in a show of dominance and desire. His long, hard erection grinds into my pussy. His body feels exactly the same as last time against mine, the same hunger and desires, but this time there’s and edge to his movements and a powerful push in his touch.

I reach to stroke his face to elicit an emotional response from him, instead of just the physical—I need to feel that same connection as before. His head shifts to the side and away from my touch, and my hand quickly drops back to my side. He pauses, still looking away from my gaze; his breathing quick and labored, giving away his hesitance. I try to pull away from him, demanding he release me. This is not the type of intimacy I want, but his grip tightens and the force of his body deepens.

“I saw you,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I saw him.”

I start to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but stop myself, knowing he won’t allow it.

“You and him,” he repeats. “I saw.”

Him? I don’t know what he’s talking about.

He releases a loud groan and turns us around, quickly moving to the bed. It bounces with my weight as he drops me on my ass and lifts the hem of my shirt over my head, revealing my braless chest. He kneels and brings his mouth to my nipple, gripping it in one long hard suck, then releases it to slowly tease it with his teeth. His hands are everywhere, frantically roaming, kneading, and pulling at my flesh.

He’s moving too fast, with too much anger behind his desires. My mind and body can’t keep up. The shifts from commanding dominance to soothing touches are giving me whiplash.

 “Niko,” I say, hoping to get his attention, but he doesn’t even pause at the sound of my voice. “Niko,” I repeat, but again, he doesn’t acknowledge me.

With his mouth still lingering over my nipple, his hands move to my pants, quickly unbuttoning and pushing them to the floor next to my shirt. His body pushes me to my back, but he stops and hovers above me. I can’t see the planes of his face; all I can focus on is his rapid breath and feel the tension in his muscles. Slowly I lay one hand on his side; I don’t move it, just rest my skin against his. His muscles jerk, but I don’t retreat. Several seconds tick by, neither of us moving, just staring into the darkness. I timidly move my hand up his side and his body sways into my touch.

I push up on my elbow and softly press my mouth to his neck, letting my lips caress and dance across the bare skin at the collar of his shirt, hoping my true desires are known to him, not wanting his anger and mistrust to guide us. His head falls forward, and a long stream of breath leaves his mouth. One of his hands moves up and tugs at the collar of his shirt allowing me access to his bare chest. With every stroke of my lips I can feel the tightness in his body leave little by little.

My mind can’t decipher what he’s even doing here. How he can bare to be this close to me after what I’ve done to him? The one night we shared a couple weeks ago was mind blowing, but I never thought it was an experience that could draw him back to me after my betrayal. That type of emotion usually runs deep, below the surface, planting and festering into hate. Maybe he is different—I hope he’s different. I don’t know what his presence means, or if he’ll disappear again after tonight. At this point, I can’t even allow myself to wish for anything more than what he is giving me right this minute.

His hips drop, his cock to pressing between my legs again. The roughness of his jeans assaults the silkiness of my panties, and the pleasure streams through me. His rocking movements are in perfect time with the swirling of my tongue over his chest, up to his neck, and then across to his shoulder. His head dips, and he intimately lays his cheek on top of my head. My entire body can sense the anger and doubts leaving him. With one long push, his hardness rolls across my clit, sending a needy moan splintering from my lips and he stills. His head jerks up and he pauses momentarily before he quickly stands and retreats several steps, mumbling incoherently.

“Niko?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper, yet still it cuts swiftly through the darkness.

His unintelligible words stop at the sound of his name, but he doesn’t speak. I stand on shaky feet and shuffle toward the sound of his breathing. I expect him to move further away, to escape me, but am surprised when my outstretched hand connects with his chest. I don’t know what to do; I don’t know how to keep him from running. So I decide to give myself what I need, and hope it has the same effect on him.

I glide my fingertips down my hips, hooking my thumbs in the sides of my panties and push them down. I reach for him and entwine our hands, mine on top, guiding his. I smooth his rough palms across my shoulders, my chest, and my breasts. His breath hitches when he feels the sharp peak of my nipples and spurs me forward. I float his touch across my stomach and my hips, letting him get reacquainted with my body as I relish his touch. I can feel the pressure behind his touch slowly building, becoming more deliberate, and less an act born from my own intentions and more of his own. I widen my stance and dip our fingertips between my legs, slipping a lone finger along my center. Back and forth I move our touch, coating his skin with the velvety wetness.

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me,” He breathes, the words airy and full of lust.

Our middle fingers move in tandem as they push past my throbbing folds and deep inside me. He moans as my breath catches in my throat; our sounds quickly morph into a coupled whimper. He pulls our fingers out then slowly leads them back inside me, having taken complete control of our movements.

His body leans forward, positioning his mouth over mine, and sucks my bottom lip into his mouth then releasing it with a pop. I inhale his scent as his forehead rests against mine, his skin is warm and the memorable tingle from our shared touch enthralls me. This dance between our bodies is still new and fresh, but at the same time it feels as familiar as the simple act itself.

His fingers dance and weave through my wetness, and I feel the bliss of release within reach. “Oh God, Niko.” I moan. Once the sound of my voice touches his ears, his other hand clasps across my mouth.

His entire body stills, including his fingers. The only sound that can be heard is the strangled gasps of our breath. In one swift motion he removes both hands from my body and jerks backward and away from my reach.

He doesn’t like talking and touching. I knew he didn’t; I’d seen it over and over with all his prior conquests, but he hadn’t shown those things with me, hadn’t demanded them of me. Instead he’d simply given into our mutual passion. But if that’s what it takes to get back to the place we’d been before then I could do it. No talking, no unwanted touching…I could do that.

I lift my foot from the ground, taking one long step toward him. An unnerving shadow casts across his torso from the damn curtains, making my heart skip a beat. I’m trying hard not to be intimated by him, but the ominous shroud surrounding him isn’t helping. His face is completely covered in shadows, the rise and fall of his chest the only movement visible in the moonlight.

When I’m directly in front of him I bend my knees and lower to the floor. Then I still, awaiting the courage to continue, or some sign from him that my actions are allowed. My arms hang aimlessly by my side, and I don’t know what to do with them. I think back to the times I watched Niko, even though the women with him were blindfolded and couldn’t see the intent behind his actions, I could, and I know what he wants.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves and my pounding heart then I lock my hands behind my back the way I know he likes. All the possible things I could do blast through my mind, but before I can decide on my next move, Niko’s hand moves to the front of his jeans, quickly followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper and the sound of him shuffling around as he pushes them down and discards them.

Even in the darkness, I can see his body move close to mine until his hips are no more than an inch from my face. I open my mouth and willingly place it on his erection. A long, straining inhale comes from Niko the moment I wrap my tongue around the underside of his penis and suck him into my mouth completely. I take long, hard strokes up and down, making sure my tongue stays wrapped around him. Without my hands, I have to rely on my tongue, and the power of my jaw more than I’ve ever had to before.