“Nick, last night—”
He kisses my nape, the heat of his mouth on my sensitive skin short-circuiting my already sluggish morning brain. I take a breath and try again.
“How did we get back to bed last night?”
“I carried you.” Another kiss, accompanied by the fluid motion of his hips behind me, his cock gliding distractingly through my slick folds. “I’m sorry if I disturbed your sleep.”
Disturbed my sleep? I shift on the mattress, extricating myself from the enticing tangle of our bodies. As much as I enjoy the feel of his nakedness against mine, I can’t pretend what I witnessed last night didn’t actually happen.
Which is apparently what Nick intends to do.
“Nick, we should talk about it.” I sigh when the head of his cock seats at the opening of my sex and gently pushes inside. Oh, God. It feels so good. I moan, trying to hold on to my sense of reason but he’s not making it easy.
“Stay, baby.” His voice vibrates against me while he begins to move in a soothing, seductive rhythm. “I don’t want to talk right now, all right? I just want to be inside you like this for a while.”
I relax, loving the feel of him. Loving the feel of us.
He groans, and he sounds so content it’s hard for me to deny him. Or myself. After the terrifying experience I had with him last night, I need this contentment too. I need this peaceful sense of intimacy, possibly as much as he does.
But I can’t give in to it without knowing that he’s okay.
I need to understand what he’s struggling against because ultimately I am struggling against it now too.
I turn my head and place a tender kiss to the muscled biceps that holds me so tenderly. I know Nick feels me go still in his arms. He slows at my resistance, then stops.
“Am I hurting you?”
His concern wrenches me. “No. But I’m hurting for you, Nick.”
I move out of the circle of his embrace, closing my eyes in regret as our bodies separate. Rolling to face him, I place my hand against the beard-roughened shadow that darkens his cheek. His eyes search mine, yet I can see how badly he wants to hide from me right now.
“I’m worried about what happened last night,” I confess gently. “I’m worried about what I saw.”
His lips flatten with the furrowing of his brow. “I sleepwalk sometimes. Just a bad habit that comes and goes sometimes.”
“It never happened before,” I point out. “I was with you for several months, most of the time sleeping right here in this bed with you. This never happened, Nick.”
He attempts a look of nonchalant, mild disbelief. “I’m surprised it didn’t. Glad too. It’s embarrassing as hell to know I stumble around in the dark and say a lot of crazy, nonsensical shit whenever I’m under stress.”
“Are you under stress now?” The fact that he doesn’t answer with a quick retort or a deflecting joke speaks volumes. “Am I adding stress to your life?”
“No. Never.” He cups the back of my head and pins me with a solemn stare. “You’re my touchstone, Avery. My only true peace. Being with you makes everything else bearable.”
“What is everything else?”
More silence, then his cell phone begins to ring again.
He rolls away from me on a curse to mute the interruption. For a long moment his head hangs down, staring at the screen. On another curse, more virulent this time, he slaps the device onto the nightstand.
I push up onto my forearm, staring at his bowed back. “Are you having issues at the office? Sounds like someone really wants to reach you this morning.”
He grunts, seated on the edge of the bed. “It’ll be a cold day in hell first.”
The venom in his tone takes me aback. We’re not finished with our conversation but he stands up, casting me a remorseful glance. “I need a shower. I’m ripe from those fucking night sweats.”
A knot forms in my throat as I look up at him. I want to tell him to stay, scream at him to talk to me, to let me in.
If he pretends this isn’t important, if he simply walks away—even if it’s just into the next room—it will be impossible for me to believe that we’ll ever get past this moment.