Wicked Burn (22 page)

Niall called out in wild dismay a second later when she thrust her hips up but Vic wasn’t there to meet her.

“Put your pretty ass back down on that bed,” Vic muttered tautly.

Niall complied immediately, willing to do anything to get him back deep inside of her. Instead of granting her wish, however, he grabbed his cock at the base and pushed the slick, steely head between her folds, rubbing and agitating her clit until she shuddered once again in orgasm.

“Oh,
yeah
,” she heard him shout a moment later, as if from a distance, as he plunged his cock back into her climaxing pussy and rode her while she came. The bed pitched stormily for several moments before he pressed his cock almost unbearably deep inside her.

Niall cried out in wonder at the sensation of him throbbing inside of her in orgasm. It seemed as if every muscle in his beautiful, sweat-glistening body strained to the breaking point.

He fell over her, gasping wildly for air. It took even longer than usual for their clamoring bodies to return to equilibrium. At some point she whispered softly to him and he released her wrists. She loved the feeling of his weight pressing into her, marveled at the sensation of his hard, delineated muscles and smooth skin beneath her worshipping hands.

Eventually, his head rose and he nuzzled her ear softly.

“Guess I proved you wrong,” he mumbled tiredly.

Niall stilled in her caressing motions. “About what, precisely?”

“Pearls really are a supersexy accessory.”

“You could turn a pair of dirty socks into a supersexy accessory, Vic Savian,” she scolded as she pressed a kiss to his damp neck. When he didn’t say anything for a moment, she leaned back and examined him.

“Tell me you’re not thinking about
how
.”

Deep laughter rumbled forth from his chest before he lowered his head and smacked her lips with a kiss.

“It just sounded like an interesting challenge, that’s all,” he teased.

He nipped at her lips until she opened for him once again.

 

 

Vic’s eyes snapped open at the sound of a whimper of distress in Niall’s throat. He’d spooned her body protectively while they slept, but now she trembled within his hold.

He tensed at the jarring knowledge that what frightened her came from within . . . and that he was powerless to stop it.

“Niall. Wake up.”

He shook her upper arm gently, willing her to rise out of her nightmare. The small, mournful cry that leaked past her lips made his teeth clench in anguish. He shifted her gently onto her back so that he could see her face. Just as he’d suspected, it gleamed with perspiration.

“Niall!”

Her eyes sprang wide. Vic saw terror in their depths. God damn it, who or what had the power to make her look so afraid?

“You were dreaming, baby,” he whispered, willing her into the present moment. He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed. When she started to sit up, he moved aside the arm that had been covering her, fighting his urge to hold her tight against him until her almost tangible fear passed.

It was almost a precise repeat of what had occurred last Sunday, Vic realized as Niall sat on the edge of the bed for several moments, neck bent, finally rising to go to the bathroom. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the muted sounds of Niall’s movement and the water running. When she came out of the bathroom a minute later, she moved so quietly that Vic wondered if she thought he was sleeping again.

Or if she merely hoped he was.

Even a week ago he might have gone along with the program and pretended that he was sleeping. But not tonight.

Once she’d settled back in bed and lay on her side with her back to him, he spoke.

“Why do you have those nightmares, Niall?”

Was it just his imagination, or did her body stiffen?

“Niall?” he repeated, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice when she didn’t respond.

She turned onto her back slowly and sighed.

“I’m sorry for waking you. Maybe I shouldn’t sleep over.”

His head came off the pillow. Her response infuriated him.

“I didn’t bring it up because I was worried about losing some sleep.”

“I know that,” she said quickly.

“Well, then?” he challenged.

He saw her lips part like she wanted to speak. But only silence ensued. His helpless fury faded when he realized how tense she was . . . how brittle. His arms abruptly encircled her, rolling her body into him. She felt so small pressed next to him, so precious. She still trembled. He realized with a pang of guilt that she was crying softly.

He cupped her head in his palm before he made soothing motions along her hair. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

She just shook her head rapidly. Vic got the impression that something choked her ruthlessly, making speech impossible. When he realized that her own emotions were the culprit, his sense of powerlessness amplified.

He did the only thing he could do, and held her while she cried. Eventually she fell into an exhausted sleep with her head on his chest. Vic remained awake for the rest of the night, like a sentinel standing guard.

Maybe on some stupid, irrational level he believed he could protect Niall from her dreams.

TWELVE

Niall could hear the sound of a Salvation Army bell ringer in the distance along with the muted sound of carols being blared out of speakers at the German Christmas village erected every year in Daley Plaza. The city seemed to bustle with energy and purpose all around her, echoing her own sense of happiness and vibrancy. She smiled. The real reason that she was so happy felt like a precious, wonderful secret that was practically bursting to break free from her chest.

Niall was in love.

“What are you grinning like that for?” she heard Vic ask from beside her before he pressed a kiss on her neck just above her scarf.

Niall spun around and feasted on the sight of him. They stood together under the marquee of the Hesse Theater. She’d walked over after work and had been waiting for him so that they could do some Christmas shopping on State Street before they went to dinner.

Niall wondered how much her secret was broadcast loud and clear in her eyes when she saw Vic’s mouth curve as he looked down at her. Something inside of her belly did a flip-flop. She doubted that the sight of Vic’s sculpted lips tilting into a slow, sexy grin would ever leave her unaffected.

“I have a secret,” she told him with a significant look.

One dark eyebrow rose speculatively before he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “Does it have to do with my Christmas present?” he teased. “I hope you remembered that I want only sex toys.”

“I’m sure that Meg, Tim, and your mother would be fascinated to see you take those out of your stocking,” Niall murmured contentedly as Vic brushed his lips across her nose and cheeks.

She’d been invited by Vic to spend Christmas at his farm downstate this coming weekend. She brimmed over with excitement at the prospect of seeing his home for the first time. She hadn’t seen Vic’s mother since the day after Vic’s opening five weeks ago, when Niall had given them a tour of the museum.

Meg had visited several times in the interim, however. She and Vic’s sister had gone to lunch twice when Meg came up to Chicago for a principals’ conference. Once Anne Rothman had joined them, and she and Meg had hit it off just as well as Meg and Niall had. Anne and Meg were the same age and discovered that they’d attended the University of Illinois in the same years and had some acquaintances in common. Niall had also met Tim, Meg’s husband, when the couple came to Chicago in order to do some Christmas shopping, and took Vic and Niall to dinner.

“If I were you, I’d give it to me in private,” Vic teased before he kissed her mouth.

“Your Christmas present isn’t my secret,” she replied with a mock superior look.

“Hmmm,” Vic murmured. “Better tell me what it is. I can see that you’re dying to.”

“It’s snowing,” she said softly.

Vic raised his head and inspected her with his penetrating stare. “That wasn’t the secret.”

Niall grinned as she reached for his hand and pulled him along next to her. “No. But let’s go enjoy it anyway.”

 

 

It did something to Vic to see the blissful expression on Niall’s face when they left the restaurant on State Street later that evening, carrying several shopping bags. Maybe it was the fact that he suspected his own countenance reflected some of those same feelings.

Or maybe it was just that he did a mental macho strut at the knowledge that Niall was so happy. He knew for a fact that her nightmares had decreased in frequency over the past month, because they spent a good majority of their nights in each other’s arms. He rarely saw that gut-twisting expression of sadness in her eyes anymore.

Of course, she’d never revealed to him
why
she looked so sad or had such frightening dreams. But why should that matter, really, if her nightmares became a thing of the past?

Vic truly believed that was a possibility when Niall paused outside the restaurant and turned her face up to the falling snow. The smile that curved her lips struck him as sublime. A streetlight shone down on her but the electric glow was nothing in comparison to her radiant luminosity.

He stepped toward her. Her lips felt warm and soft beneath the cool snowflakes.

“Would it be all right with you if we walked home?” she asked breathlessly when he finally raised his head, all evidence of ice long ago melted to vapor between their pressing, plucking lips.

Vic nodded. The snow fell heavy and silent, muting the sounds of the city as they made their way down Washington Street. Neither of them spoke for several blocks, enjoying each other’s company and the rare beauty of the night.

Vic felt so calm and content that the unexpected sound of a car backfiring loudly while they stood at the streetlight on Franklin really jarred him. By the time he’d finished blinking, he’d already realized what the noise was and turned to make a joke about it to Niall. His words stilled on his tongue when he took in the rigid pallor of Niall’s face.

“Niall?” he asked sharply.

She didn’t speak. Vic saw that the pupils of her eyes had dilated in fear as she stared down the street in the direction of the backfiring car.

“Niall!” he repeated.

She started, and dropped the shopping bag in her right hand. The silk scarf that she’d bought for her mother spilled out of it, making a crimson slash along the snow-covered pavement.

“It was a
car
backfiring
,”
Vic said more harshly than he intended as he squeezed Niall’s upper arm. The wild, cornered expression made a primitive alarm blare in his brain. He said her name again, this time more softly, a note of entreaty lacing through his tone.

She stared up at him in complete, utter nonrecognition.

Vic took one look at her and hailed a passing cab. He bent and picked up the bag and its contents before he herded Niall into the backseat.

 

 

By the time Vic unlocked his apartment door at the Riverview Towers, Niall had mostly recovered. Still, she didn’t protest when Vic guided her into the living room and gently pushed her onto the couch before he went to the kitchen and began rattling around in the cabinets.

“Thank you,” she muttered hoarsely when he handed her a glass of Scotch half a minute later. She shivered. The liquor tore like fire down her throat, thawing not only her profound chill but also the numbness that suffused her. She noticed that the liquor trembled in the glass. It mortified her that she couldn’t seem to stop shaking, especially when she felt Vic’s steady gaze on her.

She set the glass down abruptly on the coffee table. Her ears buzzed strangely in the ensuing silence.

“Why don’t you tell me about it,” Vic finally said quietly.

Niall inhaled deeply and stared out at the glittering skyline.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Vic shifted toward her on the couch. “Sorry for what, exactly? Are you apologizing for the fact that that a car backfiring on the street sent you into a state of shock? Because surely you know there’s no reason to apologize for that.” His fingers curved around her chin, tilting her face toward him. “Or are you apologizing for the fact that you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s hurting you? Is that why you’re saying you’re sorry, Niall?”

Her lips fell open. The words caught in her throat, causing a choking sensation.

“I
want
to tell you about it,” she said brokenly.

His eyes narrowed. “But?”

She cursed the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Dammit, why did they leave her body so easily when the words wouldn’t? Niall thought bitterly. She saw Vic’s expression shift when he saw her tears. She wiped at them with the back of her hand and stood jerkily. The last thing she wanted at that moment was his pity. His compassion, yes.

Although there was no guarantee that was what his reaction would be, was there?

She sensed him approaching her from behind where she stood at the windows overlooking the city.

“I know that something bad must have happened to you . . . something that causes those nightmares you have . . . something that makes you sad and scared. I see it in your eyes.”

She swallowed heavily. His voice sounded so kind and gentle. She wanted to unburden herself so much that it felt like an ache in her chest. To have Vic hold her, comfort her—love her as much as she loved him, despite everything—seemed like a beautiful, elusive dream.

If only she didn’t feel like she would lose every ounce of her control once she started talking. If only she was one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t judge her.

It should have been you, Niall
.