Triple Threat (18 page)

She wrecked him? The only thing she’d ever wrecked was her brother’s ten-speed, and she felt the same now as she had then, right before she crashed. Uninhibited. Out of control. She wanted to slow down, but Nick’s thrusts bucked her back into motion and she rode him faster as the tension began to build again, low in her belly. Like a woman possessed, she clutched at his shoulders with her free hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“I’m close.” He pressed his fingers into the soft, wet folds of her vagina, finding the sensitive button there. “Let go with me.”

She shuddered and cried out again.

“That’s it, baby.” He ground out the words, watching her through half-lowered lids. A muscle in his jaw jumped in time with his continued thrusts. “I wish you could see yourself. Next time we have to find a mirror.”

Holly moaned at that image, watching them make love in the mirror on her closet door, wild and mindless, rocking naked against each other. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He ducked his head to nuzzle her cheek. When he reached her ear, his tongue stole out to tease the lobe.

“Mmm.” The cross between a moan and a hum was all she could manage, with her lips and tongue still unable to function. Her head dropped back and she dipped her fingers lower, brushing against his erection, like velvet over steel as he pumped in and out, her movements teasing him as much as herself.

She continued to stroke herself as they moved together, her soft flesh against his hard, until her inner muscles tightened around him and she spiraled into a climax so powerful it shook her, spun her and wrung her dry. Nick followed, stifling his cry by sinking his teeth into her shoulder, sending another mini-orgasm, like an aftershock, through her body.

They clung to each other as the tremors subsided, forehead to forehead, sweat-slickened and panting. Nick was first to recover, giving Holly a soft, slow kiss. “You okay?”

“I can’t move.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.” He cupped her chin. “Nothing bad happens to you on my watch.”

She nodded and shifted to lay her head on his chest. “You sound like a superhero.”

“Almost.” He wrapped his arms around her. “They wanted me for one of the Marvel pictures. But I had to back out before the final screen test. I was under contract on a competing project that never got made. Then Trent Savage came along, and the rest is history.”

“You lead an interesting life.”

“It has its moments. But can be a pain in the ass. Trust me.”

They sat quietly as the sky darkened and stars began to appear.

Holly shivered in the cooling night air and snuggled closer to his chest. The steady, reassuring beat of his heart reverberated through her. “We should go soon.”

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

He held her tighter, resting his chin on her head. “One more minute.”

She sighed, burying her face in his neck, loving his smell and how the scruff of his beard tickled her cheek. “I like it here.”

“Me, too. Always did.”

“I liked— You know.” Blushing, she looked down to her lap where their bodies were still joined under her dress.

He pulled back and tipped his head to look at her, hitting her again with that bad-boy grin. “You dirty girl. Was this your first trip to the wild side?”

“You could say that.” She licked her lips and smiled. “But not my last, I hope.”

“Not if I can help it.” He lifted her up, separating them. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“Okay.” She kissed his neck. “But first I want...”

He moved his mouth to hers, but she turned her head so his lips brushed her cheek.

“...ice cream.”

* * *

N
ICK YAWNED AND
stretched as the morning sun slanted through the blinds on the window next to his bed, shooting warm rays across his bare chest.

Morning sun? Shit.

He shot out of bed, throwing off the sheet covering his legs. He should have been up hours ago. Holly’s parents were spending the day at some home-and-garden show, and he’d promised to help her patch the greenhouse roof.

Not that he was surprised he’d overslept. The past three days had him damn near exhaustion.

And the past three nights.

Between helping out at the nursery in the mornings, PR crap in the afternoons and nights of marathon sex, he’d barely had time to breathe, much less sleep. The whens, wheres and hows of their nighttime activities had been...interesting. With their respective bedrooms just a few doors down from her parents’, they’d resorted to getting it on in the strangest places. The greenhouse—during a thunderstorm, sweet-smelling and steamy. The toolshed—dark and musty, and the metal rake jabbing his ass was a major mood killer. The bed of her father’s pickup truck—a little hard on his back, but not as bad as he expected once they put a blanket down.

On the one hand, it was a little ridiculous for two mature, consenting adults to be skulking around like guilty teenagers. On the other, it was exciting as hell. And the sex was nothing short of incredible. They’d spent the nights touching, tasting, learning each other’s bodies. He discovered a spot behind her knee that made her melt. And she found out he was ticklish—but only on the bottoms of his feet.

Not once had they made it back to their own beds before 2:00 a.m. So, yeah, oversleeping wasn’t a shock. What he couldn’t figure out was why Holly hadn’t woken him. Was she sacked out herself? The thought of her snug and sleep-rumpled, hair sticking up in odd directions, the imprint of her pillow on her cheek, had his chest doing that uncomfortable squeezing thing that was becoming, it seemed, an almost daily occurrence.

Ignoring the feeling—or trying to—he threw on a T-shirt and struggled into his jeans and work boots. After a quick check of his cell phone—texts from Garrett and a few of his buddies in L.A., nothing that couldn’t wait—he headed downstairs, following the smell of fresh-brewed coffee to the kitchen. Still half-asleep, he almost missed the note taped to the cabinet above the coffeepot.

Nick,

We got the thumbs-up from the fire marshal, and I’m at the theater with Ethan. Figured you could use a morning in. Meet me there when you can.

Holly

He snuck a glance at the clock over the stove, which read a few minutes shy of noon. A quick cup of coffee and a shower and he could be over there before one. He filled a mug and headed upstairs.

Still in the shower half an hour later, hot water pounding his neck and back, he knew he was stalling. The show was back in business. Ethan was already in New Haven, the rest of the cast and crew sure to follow in a matter of days. He should be barrel-jumping for joy. So why wasn’t he?

Reality was about to burst the lust-filled bubble he and Holly had been living in. That was why. And Nick wasn’t sure how people would react to their being together. Hell, he wasn’t even sure of his own reaction.

He shivered in the cooling water. Was he ready to call what they were doing a—
relax, big guy
—relationship? Take it public? Not in a smile-for-the-camera way, but for real?

He closed his eyes and let the water stream over him, picturing them together. Holding hands across the table at an intimate bistro. Sharing a smile across a crowded rehearsal room. Stealing a kiss backstage.

Yeah,
he thought with a surprised smile. Call it corny, but for the first time in his life, he wanted all that. Her parents didn’t know they were even dating—suspicions aside—and Nick wondered why the hell not. Sneaking around was getting old. He wanted to share a bed with her at night.

He wasn’t made for marriage or forever. Those things had locked his mother in a life of misery and kept her from leaving a bad situation. Nick had vowed long ago not to get himself, or any woman, into that bind. And the demands of his career made even long-term unlikely. But he could give Holly all of himself, for as long as it lasted. And he didn’t give a damn who knew about it.

Now the question was, did Holly?

He shut off the water and reached for a towel. Blotting the droplets from his face and hair, he stepped out of the shower and knotted the towel around his waist. With one hand on the sink, he used the other to wipe the steam off the mirror and stared at his reflection.

Holly had a lot more to lose if they came out of the closet, so to speak. She’d be the one left behind when he moved on to his next project, wherever in the world that took him. Was she willing to risk that?

There was only one way to find out. Nick scowled at himself in the mirror and reached for his razor. His beard could use a trim, and he wanted to look his best when he put his plan into action. He fought off a smile as he lathered up. What he was about to do made him feel as if he was seventeen again, anxious and overeager. Which was fitting, since it was what he’d wanted but was too chicken to do back in high school.

He was going to ask Holly to go steady with him.

17

“
S
O WHAT DO
you think?” Holly twirled around center stage, taking in the crown moldings, the gold filigree, the rich red of the heavy velvet house curtain. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

She’d fallen in love with the Rep in all its majesty when she was twelve and her parents brought the family to a production of
Oklahoma!
Noelle had been all about the big ballet sequence in the second act. Ivy had wanted to know why she couldn’t take pictures in the theater. Gabe had dissected the plot, pointing out every flaw. But Holly had sat in her plush cushioned seat, open-mouthed and stock-still, transfixed by it all—the music, the lights, the costumes, the sets—from the first downbeat to the last curtain call.

Even the audience members had fascinated her, in their varied and eclectic versions of theater dress-up. Now the Rep audience would see her words performed on that stage. Okay, so her Broadway dream had gone up in smoke. In some ways, being at the Rep was a lot more meaningful.

Why had it taken her so long to get back to the stage? She’d always felt at home there. Too bad she couldn’t leap right from that starstruck kid lip-synching with Ado Annie to this moment. No string of failed jobs. No Clark. No miscarriage.

“Yeah.” Nick’s voice brought her back to the present. “Beautiful.”

She stopped twirling to face him, hands on her hips. “You’re not even looking.”

“Oh, I’m looking, all right.” He leaned against the stage-left proscenium arch, his eyes raking her up and down.

“At the theater, hot stuff.” She stuck her tongue out at him, laughing. “I can’t believe they used to keep highway equipment in here.”

“They did?”

“This place started life as a vaudeville house. When that died out, the Department of Transportation used it for storage. The condition of the building got so bad the state wanted to tear it down until a group of preservationists bought it for a dollar. It took them four years to restore, but I think the result was worth it.” She did another quick turn. “Don’t you?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Not really. I was too distracted by the whole Marilyn Monroe thing going on with your skirt.” He made a circle with his finger. “Spin around again.”

“You have a one-track mind.”

“Name one guy who doesn’t.”

“Mr. Spock.”

“He’s a fictional character. And even he’d be tempted by you in that outfit.” He gave her a scorching look that made her knees wobble. “Did you know I can see your nipples in that shirt?”

She looked down and pulled at her blouse. “Cannot.”

“Can too. Are you sure you’re wearing a bra?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his persistence. The sheer force of his will—and his charm—was overwhelming. “You’re hopeless.”

“More like hopeful.” He crossed the stage and came up behind her. His hands settled on her waist, his mouth at her ear. “How much time do we have before lunch?”

“I don’t know.” She tilted her head back so he could kiss her neck. “Another half an hour or so. Ethan said he’d be done around two. Why?”

“Ever make out onstage?” He spun her in his arms so they were facing each other and lifted her off her feet. The start of his erection pressed against her belly.

“No,” she said on a breathless laugh, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “But I’m sure you have.”

“Only when it was scripted.” He cupped her bottom, holding her tight. “This would be my first attempt at improvisation.”

A noise in the wings made her freeze. “Did you hear that?”

“I thought we already established that my one-track mind’s incapable of focusing on anything else when you’re around.” He lowered his mouth to hers, stopping a breath away from her parted lips.

“Wait.” She drew her head back and cocked it to one side, listening. Nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief, but the close call had rattled her. “We can’t do this. What if someone sees us?”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that on the dock, as long as we kept our clothes on.” His chocolate eyes danced with mischief. “And as much as I’d like to, I’m not planning on us stripping center stage.”

She blushed at the memory of how she’d writhed all over him like a sexually frustrated python, not caring where they were or who might stumble across them. “This is different. We’re going to be working in this theater. Living here, too. We’ll be with these people day and night for the next six weeks.”

He let her slide down the length of his body to the floor and she instantly regretted opening her big fat mouth.

“Would that bother you?” He loosened his hold but kept her in the circle of his arms. “Them finding out about us?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but if they knew we were...together...it might get awkward.”

“So you don’t want to take this public?”

“I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”

“You. Me. Together.” He slipped a hand down to the small of her back and pressed her against his hardness. “Having hot monkey sex every chance we get.”