Threads Of Desire (Creative Hearts Book 3) (2 page)

She blinked, looked up at him again, and forced her mind to stay in the here and now. It must be the odd sight of seeing him so undone that had set her off kilter. Two years older than his brother, he was the golden boy. The perfect opposite to Steve’s laid-back, “take it as it comes” counterpart. Both tall and dangerously handsome, the Ross boys had been a force in the old neighborhood. Growing up, Gabby had considered herself lucky to have at least one of them in her corner—even if it brought the ire of the neighborhood girls down upon her. Steve was the easygoing, artsy one—the lead in the school plays, the one most likely to break into song. Nick was dark and brooding and competitive—the one most likely to succeed. Academics, sports, it didn’t matter; he could do it all and if he couldn’t, he’d find a way to make damned sure he aligned himself with someone who could make a way. Nick Ross was a
playa
.

But on this night a facsimile of Nick—rumpled suit jacket over one arm, shirttail half undone, one of his trademark suspenders hanging down his shoulder—rushed into her and Steve’s apartment, almost knocking his brother over as he headed towards the hall closet. Gabby detected a shade of putrid green coming through his normally smooth, creamy brown complexion as he ran by. She didn’t think he even noticed her.

“To the right, to the right,” Steve yelled, gesturing toward the bathroom.

He turned and dashed inside, slamming the door behind him. Gabby and Steve stood there dumbfounded, listening in awkward silence as Nick peed for what seemed like an eternity, the sound absurdly loud in their quiet apartment.

“He wasn’t messing around about having to go,” Gabby said when the peeing stopped. A few seconds later, it started up again. Her nose scrunched up.

Steve cocked his head to the side. “No, no he wasn’t.”

There was a distinctive and ominous thump from the bathroom and they both looked at each other, brows up.

Gabby let out a breath. “You think you should go and check on him?”

Steve’s brows lowered then drew together. “Fuck. I get enough of this at work.” He rubbed a frustrated hand across his head.

Gabby rolled her eyes and walked over to the bathroom door, giving it a knock.

“You okay, Nick?” Nothing. She looked over at Steve then pounded on the door harder. “Nick, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” came the weak reply along with a flush. Gabby shook her head. And this was the man she’d spent the better part of her adult life mooning over? No wonder she was such a screwed-up mess.

The bathroom door opened finally, and Nick came out looking completely wrecked, but slightly less green. He plopped into the recliner off the side of the couch and put his head in his hands. When he finally lifted it, his eyes connected with Gabby’s for the first time and went from unfocused pools to blazing awareness in a nanosecond. He opened his mouth, his lips curling angrily. “Fucking bitch.”

“Excuse me? Fuck you too, Nicholas Ross! I got your bitch, all right,” Gabby growled.

His eyes softened, consciousness hazy as if she was going in and out of focus before him. “No, not you, Gabby. That fucking Claire.” He held his head as if just saying her name caused him pain. “I caught her in bed with that that other bitch Yasmin. Well, not in bed, really, but on our new Persian rug.” His head shook, showing his despair though it was hard to tell if it was over Claire or the rug. “I liked that rug too,” he added and Gabby bit back a smirk, though Steve couldn’t hold back the loud snort that escaped his lips.

Nick gave his brother a sharp side-eye before he resumed his story. “Shoulda known I couldn’t trust her. There I was looking all stupid, and there they were, just naked and happy and barely blinking an eye. Ready for round two, about to invite me in as if it were tea time or something.” His rage began to amp up, heat waving off him. “And when I refused she had the nerve to threaten my manhood and then my job. My goddamned job! You don’t play with my money, anything but my money. I have plans.” He let out a low growl as he raked his hands across his close-shaved head, his eyes going dark and wild as he looked around the room until his gaze settled squarely on Gabby. “Fucking women.”

Gabby pulled back. So okay, the first 
bitch
 wasn’t meant for her, but that last 
fucking women
 and the accompanying sneer was definitely sent her way, as if her entire gender couldn’t be trusted. She let the insult go, though, too enthralled with the story unfolding before her to interject and set him straight. Offense could come later—for now she had to get the 411 on him, Cruella de Claire, and that poor rug.

She and Steve looked at each other, mouths agape, doing a quick mental telepathy recap on what was unfolding. Claire. Yasmin. Rug. Another woman. Big-time scandal going on. They both flopped down on the couch ready to take in the whole sordid story, but then Steve seemed to remember he was supposed to be the supportive brother and leaned forward, giving Nick a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Sorry, man, but don’t worry, we’ll get you back on your feet.”

“Good to hear,” Nick mumbled. “Um. I hope you don’t mind me staying here a while.”

Gabby turned and noticed for the first time the discarded duffle bag by the door. 
A while?
 Just how long was he talking? She looked back at Steve, narrow-eyed, nostrils flaring, but what she got back was an apologetic shrug. Oh holy hell. How else did she expect this perfect day of days to end? As she met Nick’s hard eyes, flashes of that first closet came back to life in her mind as if it were yesterday and not over eight years ago. In one fell swoop, Nicholas Ross had taken her innocence, her pride, and her heart.

And now he was back.

Gabby could only wonder what he’d take from her this time. She stared at Nick. Old feelings and pain mingling with unwanted desire. Well screw that, those day were over, she was no longer that girl in the closet and it was high time he learned it. Once and for all.

Chapter 2

Gabby climbed into the full tub and drew the curtain behind her. She closed her eyes and sighed, rolling her shoulders beneath the warm water. Not five minutes later, the loud sound of falling liquid filled her ears.

“Seriously, Nick, how often am I supposed to be subjected to hearing the sound of you peeing?”

Gabby pushed the curtain aside to the shocking, though she couldn’t deny quite alluring, view of Nick’s firm, nearly-naked backside.

He started to swing around, then clearly remembered what he was doing and abruptly stopped. “Shit, Gab. You could warn a guy,” he gritted out, finishing, giving himself a shake, and tucking his privates away into his boxer briefs. He leaned over and gave the toilet a flush.

“Me?” she said. “You could knock before coming into a lady’s bath. What about that?”

Nick whirled around, ignoring the fact that Gabby was in the bath. 
Naked
and in the bath. Thank goodness for bubbles. But too bad the majority had fizzed out. Gabby quickly jerked her hands up to cover her breasts, sloshing water over the edge of the old claw foot tub. Her eyes swept down to make sure the essentials were covered. “Jeez, Nick, do you have no shame?”

He raised a dark brow by way of answer to her question. Clearly he was unfazed by the fact that he was standing there semi-nude in just his boxer-briefs, and she didn’t think he really cared that he’d been caught peeing. “Why do you think I turned around? I wasn’t going to just let this moment go to waste.”

Gabby’s felt her face heat—along with other parts of her body that she’d prefer stayed cool, thank you very much. But no, with Nicholas Ross around, of course, she was heated. Screw it. She’d afford herself the opportunity to sweep him a slow up and down. Might as well look her fill and see how he liked it. Besides, there was no way she was cowering. This was her apartment, her damned bathroom.

Gabby raised her eyes slowly and there he was, standing before her, leaning casually against the vanity and, despite his rough night, having the nerve to still resemble some sort of mahogany Adonis. Nick looked ready for his photo shoot—or maybe an early morning sculpting session, since everything about him said classic perfection. From his strongly planted feet, to his muscled calves to his well-toned runner’s thighs, up those climb-’em-like-a-ladder abs to his freaking ridiculous pecs... Gabby let out a steamy breath and licked her lips.

She got to his face, his morning scruff only adding to his appeal, and Gabby had to clamp down on her suddenly out-of-control hormones. But then she noticed the quirk come to the corner of his full lips, and her eyes came up to sharply meet his. “What do you find so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just the way you were looking at me. I suddenly felt like I should put out a tip jar or something.”

Gabby felt her nostrils flare. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Ross. You’re not all that. No need to get a swelled head.” She let her eyes go south and cocked her head. “Or anything else.”

Nicked laughed, his head going back, his mouth going wide and his features going from hard to soft and playful, sending Gabby’s insides all tilty. “Now you are flirting with me,” he said. His eyes went from her eyes to her lips, searing her, making her lips go full and plump up as if on command. Gabby felt her center go to mush at the same time that her guard went up. Freaking hell. Nick being his usual hardass self was one thing. She was used to that. 
That
 she could resist and arm herself against. Cute, playful Nick—or worse, seductive, bedroom-eyed Nick—was a much more dangerous thing.

Her mind went back to that night back at the dean’s house at Bonnersville State. To the taunts from those polished, rich girls. To her dash into the coat closet to hide her insecure tears. To Nick, coming to her rescue and making her laugh as he washed her worries away with his kisses, his caresses. He took it all—all of 
her
—and made her finally feel whole, transformed by his love.

But too soon, the voice came from outside, calling him to his future. And when his eyes met hers, the light went out and they filled with regret. Gabby was back to herself once again. Seen for who she was—the cute, chubby sidekick who lived next door and would never be good enough. The girl you kept in the closet, not the woman you took out to dance.

He’d dropped her like a hot potato. After so many years of going over that night in her mind, the memories became muddled and it was hard to remember who let who go first, but somehow, Gabby realized now, she had never really let go. Her mind came back to the present and she thought of Donovan just the day before and how little had changed in her life. She was still stuck in the closet.

She looked up at Nick and swallowed, the lump in her throat suddenly a very real thing, the flutters in her stomach turning to stone, anger stoking her fire.

Flirting? Was he for real? Well, she had a way to stop his flirting dead in its tracks.

Gabby dropped her hands covering her breasts and leaned forward, flipping the stopper on the tub. The sound of the water rushing out was loud in her ears. She then took the tub by both sides and pushed herself up, the water sloshing around her calves. She turned, ignoring the cool breeze from the open door and fact that her nipples were puckering and her stomach was now rolling and her heart was beating wildly out of her chest, and she looked at Nick straight on, meeting him eye to eye.

“Flirting with you, Nick Ross, is the last thing on my mind. Now, would you please pass me my towel?” She could hear the shakiness in her voice but hoped the low tone was cool and steady.

Nick’s mouth dropped as he as looked at her, his eyes blinking rapidly, seeming to hit every spot along her body as he did so. Blink. Shoulder. Blink. Breast. Blink. Stomach. Blink, blink. Hips, thighs. There was a lot to see. He seemed to absentmindedly put his arm out and reach for the towel behind him. It took all Gabby had to stand there with her ass, belly, hips, and thighs just out, exposed, but she knew Nick’s tastes and they didn’t run to curvy girls like her. His women were always tight and trim, bordering on muscular.

Despite their brief, single encounter, every girl he’d ever gone for, from junior high clear to his current 
yoganista,
 could pass for a high-fashion model. Though it made her feel a little queasy, Gabby knew that standing before him showing off all her “imperfections” would be just the thing to turn him right off and wipe that grin from his face.

And it worked. Nick wasn’t grinning at all as he handed her the towel. Gabby reached her hand out to take it, trying to steadfastly ignore the disappointment that washed over her. She was a fool if somewhere deep down she’d been hoping for a different reaction.

Their fingers brushed accidentally and she froze and swallowed, looking up into his dark eyes. For a moment, she thought she caught a hint of something smoldering in his gaze. But no, she was being ridiculous. Despite her stomach, her pebbling nipples (hell, it was getting cold), or any look from him whatsoever, there was no need to lose her cool.

“I got the part!”

In unison, they turned to the doorway and looked at Steve. Nick dropped the towel and Gabby raised her hands to cover herself as best as she could. 
Oh hell. What was he doing up so early too?

Steve narrowed his eyes. “So is this a twosome or are we now hosting a whole new type of 
Three’s Company
 here?”

Gabby felt her body catch fire from her toes on up to her hairline. 
Shit.
 She knew how they must look. How she must look! Letting out a low groan, she reached down for the towel, trying to shift her behind as best she could in the awkward bend over. Coming up, she glared at Nick. “Learn to knock next time!” She wrapped the towel around herself and turned toward Steve, letting out a breathless huff. “I’d really like to hear about the part, but since my bath was rudely interrupted, and it’s a little crowded in here you’ll need to give me a minute.”