Triple Threat (17 page)

“Probably about the same time I believe in unicorns, the Easter Bunny and world peace.”

“I’d sure like to try to convince you.” He leaned into her, stroking a work-roughened finger down her arm. “That you’re pretty damn incredible, I mean. I’m on the fence about unicorns, myself.”

“Don’t. Please.” She scooted away from him. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

Why didn’t she? Because she was afraid of what his verdict would be, that was why. He’d never look at her the same way once he found out what she’d done. Or, more accurately, didn’t do. Although she hated to admit it, she kind of liked the way he’d been looking at her. The way he was looking at her now.

“Have you ever had a secret so big you felt as if it could swallow you whole?” Holly’s voice sounded breathy and faint, even to her ears. “One you kept from almost everyone?”

“Yeah, I have.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I’ll share mine if you share yours.”

“Okay.” She paused and took a deep, fortifying breath. “You asked what made me leave Clark. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise you won’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” His voice was earnest, his eyes sincere.

She hoped he was right.

“You might when you hear this.” He started to interrupt, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. She gazed back out at the lake, afraid if she looked at him the words wouldn’t come. “I didn’t leave because I was brave. Or smart. Or even just plain fed up, although I was. I left because I had to. I left because I was pregnant.”

* * *

“
I
WAS PREGNANT
,” she repeated, as if trying to convince herself it was true. She hugged her knees to her chest. “That’s why I got out. Or tried to. I didn’t want my child to suffer what I’d gone through. The constant put-downs. Living on pins and needles, never knowing what was going to set Clark off. He’d rant and rave and throw things. Shoes, plates, my grandmother’s antique porcelain doll. Once he even punched a hole in the living room wall. He was never physical with me,” she added quickly. “Not until...that day. He came home early and found me packing....”

Her voice trailed off and she didn’t have to say any more for Nick to understand. The scars. The way her eyes had clouded over when he’d asked her if she had any children. It all made sense now. Horrible, awful, stomach-churning sense.

And she didn’t think she was brave? “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Holly turned and her bottle-green eyes met his, causing his chest to constrict in a way that was becoming all too familiar. “Just listening helps.”

“I could always take him out for you,” he offered, only half joking.

“Thanks, but no, thanks. Clark’s where he belongs. At the Charles E. Walker Correctional Center. And he’s not up for parole for another seven years.”

“Parole?” Nick practically choked on the word. “He’s a goddamn murderer. He should be locked up for the rest of his natural life.”

She shook her head. “I was still in my first trimester, not far enough along for them to charge him with murder. He got ten years for first-degree assault.”

Nowhere near long enough, if you asked Nick. But he let the matter drop, knowing if he kept this line of questioning up he’d lose the shaky grip he had on his temper and probably scare her.

“I wish I could have been there for you,” he said, surprised to find he really meant it. For the first time in his life, he wanted to do more for a woman than give her brief sexual pleasure. He wasn’t sure why—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to figure it out—but something about Holly brought his protective instincts to the surface.

“You’re here now.” She brushed a stray hair off her cheek and his temper faded, replaced by the growing urge to wrap her in his arms and keep her there, safe from scumbags like Clark.

“I sure am.”

With a puff of breath that ruffled her bangs across her forehead, she released her knees and let her legs swing off the end of the dock.

“I feel— I don’t know. Lighter, somehow.”

“You’ve never told anyone about this?”

“Only the police. The doctors and nurses who treated me. And my therapist. Clark pleaded guilty, so I didn’t have to testify. The prosecutor said I wouldn’t have been allowed to tell the jury about the baby, anyway. Said it wasn’t ‘relevant.’” She stared up at the sky, its brilliant blue now streaked with reds and yellows as the sun started to dip toward the horizon.

Not relevant, my ass.
Nick mentally added another person to his list of people who deserved a good old-fashioned beat-down. “What about your family?”

“They had no idea how bad things were until I wound up in the hospital. And they still don’t know about the baby. I could never bring myself to tell them.”

“Why now?” His voice was halting as he lowered himself down to lie on the dock beside her. “Why me?”

She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “You asked. And I guess I figured if anyone would understand, it’d be you.”

She had a point there. “Thanks.” He held his hand out again and this time she took it, entwining her fingers with his.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

They lay like that, on their backs, hands joined, eyes on the reddening sky, the only sounds the lapping of the water against the dock, the chirping of crickets and an occasional birdcall. After a few minutes, she broke their silence.

“He wasn’t always a jerk, you know. Things were great for the first few years. But then he lost his tenure-track position at Wesleyan and had to take a job at a small college in upstate Vermont. He was never really the same after that.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for him.”

“I’m not. I’m making excuses for me.”

“You don’t have to do that, either.”

“I killed my baby, Nick.”

Her words were less than a whisper. He turned his head to look at her and found her gazing back at him, her eyes dark and wet and sad. “No. Clark did that.”

“If I had left sooner, convinced him to take anger management classes, gone to my parents for help...”

“We can play what-if all day, but there’s no guarantee any of that would have changed anything. You tried to protect your child. It’s more than a lot of people do.” More than his mother had done. He’d accepted her limitations a long time ago, understood that she loved him the best she could. But she loved her husband more. She didn’t see how the man terrorized his son, convinced herself it was just discipline.

Who was making excuses now?

He sat up, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. Definitely time for a change of subject. For both their sakes.

“My turn.” Still holding her hand, he pulled her up beside him. “Although, to be honest, my secret seems sort of insignificant now.”

“It was important enough for you to keep. That makes it significant.”

Damn.
How did she do that? Cut right through all his crap and leave him wide-open.

“I can’t read.”

She stared at him, a half smile on her face as if she thought he was joking. “But you’re an actor. You read scripts all the time. I’ve watched you do it for hours at rehearsal.”

“Garrett records stuff for me so I can listen to it on my iPod. You know how you hassled me for always keeping one earbud in? That’s how I follow along.”

“I don’t understand. You graduated from high school. Didn’t you go to Juilliard? What did you do then?”

“My mom helped me with homework in high school. I had a tutor in college, and use a lot of audiobooks. Julliard lets dyslexic students take tests in the study center. Reading will always be a struggle for me, but I’ve learned how to deal with it.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Yet you chose a career that forces you to read. A lot.”

“It’s worth it if you love it. And I do.” He squeezed her hand. “You helped me see that.”

“What you’ve accomplished is pretty incredible. Why don’t you talk about it more?”

“I will. Someday. But I want to be known as a serious actor first, not the actor with a learning disability.”

“Who else knows?”

“Garrett, obviously. My assistant. And now you.”

The quiet between them descended again and they lay back down on the dock. He absently stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and was rewarded with a slight shiver.

“Nick?” She ran her tongue across her lips, which got things stirring south of the border.

“Yeah?”

She surprised him by rolling to her side, propping herself up on her elbow and throwing one leg over his hip, dangerously close to the south-of-the-border action. “Kiss me.”

He tried his hardest to look apprehensive. If she wanted to play the seducer, he was on board 100 percent. “Out here?”

She arched a brow and deepened her voice, imitating him earlier. “I can’t think of anyplace better. Can you?”

“No.” He raised himself up to meet her gaze, reaching over with his free hand to cup her cheek. His lips were mere inches from hers, so close he could almost taste that raspberry lip gloss she liked so much. “I sure as hell can’t.”

16

H
OLLY CLOSED HER
eyes, sighing, as Nick’s mouth met hers. He took his time, kissing her softly before teasing her lips with his tongue. She opened and breathed him in, letting his tongue caress hers. His hand drifted down to her hip, pulling her tight against him.

Sliding his hand to her shoulder, he inched down the strap of her sundress, and she tensed. He raised his head and drew back.

“Where we go from here’s up to you, sweetheart.” The challenge was apparent in his eyes. “But my vote’s for whatever gets us naked fastest.”

“That’s the part that worries me.”

“Afraid someone will see us?”

She nodded, fingering his shirt, loving the feel of the massive chest and ripped abs underneath.

He lifted her chin with his finger and she saw the laughter all over his face. “Isn’t that part of the thrill?”

“Yes, but I’d rather not get caught in the buff.”

“How about another compromise, like with the lights?” He slid the strap back onto her shoulder, pressing a kiss where it rested. “We do this with our clothes on.”

“That sounds...complicated.”

“I’m game.” He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. “Are you?”

“I’ve never been one to back down from a dare.” She straddled him, feeling the growing bulge under his shorts.

“Good.” He sat up and gripped her hips, raising her off him. “Spread your dress to cover us and unzip me.”

She fluffed out her skirt and reached underneath, popping the button on his shorts and sliding down the zipper. After a few moments of embarrassed fumbling, she managed to free him from his boxers. He sprang forward, hot, hard and ready, in her palm.

“Please tell me you’ve got a thong on under there,” he moaned against her neck, his lips leaving a wet line on her heated skin. “Or better yet, nothing at all.”

“We were with a bunch of high schoolers. Of course I’m wearing underwear.” She moved the crotch of her panties to one side and positioned the tip of his penis, wet with pre-cum, at her entrance. “Tiny, lacy, pink underwear.”
Thank you, Noelle.
“I’m sure if you try hard enough you can work around them.”

He raised his head and gave her that rakish bad-boy grin of his that always made her toes curl. “I live to try hard.”

She started to lower herself onto him, but the hands at her waist tightened, stopping her. “Condom,” he groaned, feeling around to his back pocket. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I left my wallet in the glove compartment.”

She swiveled her head toward the driveway, the car a distant speck across the lawn. “I’m on the pill,” she panted, desperate to take him into her body with or without barrier. “And I’m clean. I was tested after Clark... You know. And I haven’t slept with anyone since.” Heat crept up her cheeks. “Except you.”

“Same here. The insurance company made me get tested before rehearsals started.”

“Remind me to thank them.”

On a groan, she sank down, taking him inside her. His length filled her, stretching her, stroking her. Their mouths came together in full, wet contact, his probing tongue mirroring the slow, seductive back-and-forth of his penis. He tasted of peppermint and something else, something she couldn’t identify, something elementally Nick.

He anchored one arm around her waist, using the other to brace himself on the dock, and thrust upward, hitting at just the right angle to send her spiraling out of control. Sweat beaded on his forehead and on the rippling muscles of his arms. She arched her head to lick one salty drop from his neck, nipping the tender flesh as she did.

“I’m not going to last long if you keep that up,” he rasped. “God, Holly, what you do to me...”

She tried to talk but could barely breathe so she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to his shoulders. Her hands traveled up through his hair then down his back, slipping under his shirt and luxuriating in the feel of his muscles rippling with effort beneath his skin.

The wood rubbed against her knees and her head tilted back, hair ruffling in the breeze. She shifted to put more pressure on the spot that felt so, so good.

Oh, yeah. There. Right there.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” His low, commanding growl turned her nipples into hard points that scraped against the lace of her bra. “Touch yourself while I fuck you.”

He took one of her hands and brought it under her dress between them so their fingers brushed through her pubic hair and down to wet skin. She never did this—
never
—but he moved his hand over hers in a rough back-and-forth, pressing hard. It felt like a second heartbeat down there, pulsing with a rhythm she controlled. When he pulled his hand away she kept going, moving from her fingers to her palm and changing the pressure. Crazy, crazy lust pounded through her, strange noises coming from her throat that she’d never heard before, until she burst wide open, tiny dots dancing before her eyes.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look when you come? Head back. Eyes half-closed. Your cheeks are flushed and those luscious lips are parted just enough so I can see the tip of that naughty little tongue. And the moans and whimpers you make...” He kissed her again, fast and intense, as he continued to move inside her. “You wreck me, babe.”