Deep (Pagano Family #4)(82)

“I’ll make you feel it.” He bent his head and drew the nipple into his mouth, sucking forcefully. And then he bit down—and he wasn’t gentle. He bit and sucked, and she arched back with a gasp.

“Yes! Yes!” Her * clamped hard around him, and the undulating spasms of her climax milked him steadily toward his own. As her orgasm waned and his waxed, he shifted the hand that was supporting her and slid two fingers into her ass. Again, she arched off the wall, and she came a second time, almost immediately. He went with her, groaning into her neck, feeling every muscle from his jaw to his knees cording up with the effort of release.

“Thank you,” she breathed after a moment of stillness. “I love you.” She was shaking.

“Ti amo, bella.” He moved to pull out and let her down, but she clenched around him, inside and out.

“No. I want you deep in me. I feel full of you. I feel full.”

With a lingering kiss to her forehead, he reached back to turn off the shower. Then he leaned into her, holding them both against the wall, linked together. His blood churned with love and relief. He would put regret aside. Uncle Ben was right. Some lies were kindnesses. She needed him, and he would not hurt her again.

He needed her, too.





20



When Bev woke, she knew right away that her world was different again, but she wasn’t sure why. She felt disoriented and nearly paralyzed, like her body had become lead as she’d slept. Before she opened her eyes, she tried to sort her thoughts and enter the moment.

She was naked in bed, only a sheet over her. She hadn’t slept naked since the diner. She opened her eyes.

The light was wrong. Even the air, the sounds it carried, was wrong. It wasn’t morning. It was afternoon. Nick had f*cked her in the shower, and then he’d dried her off and carried her to bed and f*cked her again. For the first time since the diner, he’d been inside her. He’d been rough. She’d been terrified of their sex for weeks, but he’d been rough, and his fierce need had been a balm. She could still feel the ache left by his touch—a sweet twinge, so different from what she’d suffered. A pain that recollected love, not fear. The memory eased her, made her smile.

And then they’d slept.

At least, she’d thought they’d slept. But now she was alone in bed. He’d told her that he wouldn’t leave her alone.

He’d told her that because…

Because…

Because Chris was dead.

Fully oriented again, she turned her face into her pillow and wept.

She felt the dip of weight on the mattress, and then Nick’s hand was on her shoulder. He didn’t speak.

With his big hand on her shoulder, and with the solid heat of his body at her side, Bev cried herself back to sleep.



oOo



When she woke again, she was alone again, and the room was dim with dusk. She’d slept through most of the day. This time, she was oriented before she was fully awake, and the lead she’d felt in her muscles earlier had lifted somewhat. Or maybe it had simply moved to her heart.

Her feelings about Chris were deeply confused, and she was too sad and stunned yet to make sense of them. He’d been a constant, steady, loving presence in her life for more than a decade.

Loving. He’d loved her, been in love with her. She’d been so betrayed and hurt to find that out. It had changed all of her memories of their friendship, made her reconsider every kindness as a play. Learning the depth and direction of his feelings for her made her feel exposed and used. He hadn’t been the friend she’d thought. He hadn’t been a friend at all—he’d been auditioning. She still felt betrayed and angry. At a time when she was reeling from a brutal violation of her person, she’d learned that her best friend had been violating her soul.

But now, suddenly, she felt guilty. He’d been waiting for her, and he’d died alone. In all the time of their friendship, he’d had two girlfriends. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy, in a sort of rumpled, bookish way, and he was funny and nice—there was usually at least one woman lurking around the bookshop trying to get noticed. But no one was ever good enough. Every woman who’d expressed an interest, every contact during his occasional bouts with online dating, they’d all had some deficiency. Bev had teased him endlessly about how picky he was. And he’d laughed and said that between his pickiness and her bad taste, they’d end up spending the rest of their lives alone together.

Which, it turned out, would have been his preference, failing what he’d really wanted with her.

And now she couldn’t sort out all of that loss from the fresh, new loss. He was gone. He was just gone. They hadn’t spoken in weeks, and now they never would again. They’d never be friends again. They’d never sit down and talk and find a new way to be, or even know for sure that there never could have been a new way to be.

He was dead, and they would never have closure.

It was all too much to think.

She wanted Nick. So she got out of bed, put her robe on, and went out into the main space of her apartment.

He was standing in front of the glass door to her balcony, looking out over the pool and courtyard, his hands in the pockets of his track pants, his beautiful back and chest bare. He seemed troubled.

“Hi.”

At her quiet word, he turned and smiled softly. “You’re awake. What can I do?” He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him lace their fingers and pull her under the shelter of his arm.