Chapter Seven
When Sasha let him in the motel room, she was still clutching the phone with a warm smile.
“Everything all right?” Nick scowled, gripping the bag from the drugstore.
“Yeah. Xander filled me in. Harper’s fever is coming down. She’s been sitting in bed most of the evening, watching movies she’s never had the opportunity to see. Apparently she loves Frozen.”
Nick wasn’t entirely sure what that was, but hearing the news that her daughter behaved like a typical little girl seemed to fill Sasha with relief.
“And they’re reading her books, too. She loves story time.” Sasha bit her lip. “She’s missed out on so many normal childhood things.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Clifford is the one who fucked up your life.”
She winced, and Nick realized belatedly that she probably hadn’t heard that kind of language much.
Mike had never been one to swear. He remembered him once saying that Sasha had grown up very sheltered with small-town, religious parents.
Nick resisted the urge to shake his head in self-reproach.
His first spoken word had probably been four letters.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“No. You’re right. I didn’t want this life for Harper.
For myself. I certainly wanted more than an early grave for Mike.
” She sighed. “But Walter Clifford changed all that, and it’s too late to undo his damage.
All we can do is try to pick up and move on.
Will something in the bag help us accomplish that? ”
She reached for the sack. Nick thought about stopping her, shielding her. He didn’t. Better that she understand now. “To start, yes.”
She peeked in, then paused, frowning as she grabbed the first of two matching boxes. “Hair color? Rich dark brown?”
“Clifford is looking for a blonde with a toddler, not a brunette with a boyfriend.”
Sasha zipped her stare to him, her lush lips parted in surprise. “A what?”
“Boyfriend. Me. We’re going to the bandstand about midmorning, after the joggers but before the stroll-through-the-park-at-lunch crowd.
The moms pushing strollers that time of day won’t pay us much mind.
If Clifford has surveillance on the area, all he’ll see is two people hand in hand, seemingly in love.
” He picked up the Saints ball cap he’d bought and shoved it on his head.
“Not only will you look different, but by tomorrow morning, I’ll have enough stubble to pass as a beard.
With the bill over my face and these”—he extracted a pair of cheap, dark sunglasses, tag dangling—“no one will recognize me. You have a pair in there, too.”
“And makeup?” She ignored the glasses and started pulling cosmetics from the bag.
He shrugged, hoping he hadn’t fucked up. “One of the female clerks helped me.”
Sasha studied the BB cream that was supposed to adjust to her skin tone, the soft peachy-pink blush, and a translucent powder. A little compact with some brown, gold, and rosy shadows pressed into the shape of an eye shimmered behind the plastic lid.
“The woman said these colors would work for most anyone. When I told her you had hazel eyes, she recommended those shadows.”
“You remembered?”
The color of her eyes? As if he could forget. “There’s a nude lip in there, too. Whatever that means.”
Nick wished like hell Sasha would give him some sort of reaction. Was she pleased? Pissed? Or just puzzled?
Suddenly, she smiled at him. “This is the most makeup I’ve had in what feels like forever. Oh, the lipstick looks pretty. Mascara!” She hugged it to her chest. “I’ve missed this. Thanks.”
He sighed with relief as she pulled out a couple of toothbrushes, toothpaste, a new brush, and a travel-sized lotion. “You’re welcome. Sasha—”
“What’s this?” she asked of the last item in the bag.
He saw the instant she realized what he’d bought. She turned a rosy shade and set the box on the counter carefully.
“Condoms,” he confirmed, still not sure whether he’d bought them to remind her of his “demand” so this mood between them would be less cozy…or just in case his restraint ran out.
For a long minute, she didn’t say anything. Finally, she swallowed as if she worked up her courage and looked at him. “Thank you for thinking of protecting me. Am I coloring my hair now or in the morning?”
Despite her matter-of-fact reply, Nick had to work not to get hard while thinking about Sasha and condoms in the same sentence.
No luck.
He locked and dead-bolted the motel room door, then answered. “In the morning is fine. I’m going to take a shower.”
Without waiting for her reply, Nick disappeared into the bathroom.
He stripped down, soaped up, and stroked himself to climax, biting back a groan at the thought of crushing Sasha’s delicate mouth under his as he surged deep inside her.
Self-pleasure barely shaved down the edge of his need, but better to work off as much as he could before he crawled in bed beside her.
Cursing, he wrapped a towel around his waist and jerked the door open. His backpack with his clean underwear was still on the bed, and he’d forgotten—
The sight in front of him zapped every fucking thought from his head.
“Sasha?”
She’d folded down the ratty bedspread and eased between the starched white sheets, sitting with her knees tucked under her, ass resting on her soles.
She wore a sleeveless white nightgown that ended just above her knees.
Sheer lace trimmed the gentle slope of fabric covering her breasts and the hem at the bottom.
It was plain as hell and not meant to be sexy in the least. But it was probably all she had.
She had unfastened the top two buttons of the garment, revealing a hint of her shadowy cleavage.
One glance, and it was obvious that jacking off in the shower had been futile.
Head bowed, hands clasped, Nick watched her shoulders rise and fall with every nervous breath. She looked like a goddamn sacrificial virgin.
“I’m ready,” Sasha whispered.
No, she wasn’t.
Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. “Listen—”
“Mike told me once that you like to be…in charge. In bed.”
Damn his old pal. “Sasha—”
“I can be…” She grappled for words. “Compliant.”
He snorted. Unless she could be eager, he would never touch her. “Look at me.”
Sasha blinked up, clearly confused—until she caught sight of him. She gasped. Her eyes bulged, her stare walking all over him. Her mouth gaped open.
Her visual worship boosted his ego. Knowing she liked what she saw got his dick harder, too. But it didn’t change anything between them.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
“Well…you’ve done everything you said you would to keep Harper and me safe. We made a deal.” She was breathing hard. “You gave me last night to be with her. Now I’m living up to my end of the bargain.”
He noticed she hadn’t said she was dying to have his cock inside her tight pussy as she clawed her way to climax.
“Have you ever had sex with a man other than Mike?”
“No.”
“You ever had a man eat your pussy until you’re so sensitive you had to plead to make him stop?”
Her cheeks went rosier. “No.”
“You ever wanted a man so much you begged him to fuck you until your throat felt raw?”
“No.” Her voice turned breathier.
“You ever come so hard you weren’t sure you had any bones left in your thoroughly melted body?”
Sasha’s saucer-wide eyes told him she wondered if such reactions were even possible. “No.”
“Ever even fantasized about those things?”
Her gaze dropped to her lap again. She swallowed. “Why all the questions?”
“Yes or no?”
“I agreed to give you my body, not my mind.”
Nick had no right, but that answer pissed him off. If he was going to risk her hatred and his own self-loathing, then by god he wanted all of her.
He grabbed her chin in his grip and forced her gaze up to his. “If you can’t even answer me, then you’re not ready for the way I intend to fuck you. Not even close.”
Sasha jerked from his grip. “What more do you want? You can force me to spread my legs for you and give you everything between them. You can’t force me to share everything under my skin.”
With a jolt, Nick realized that was exactly what he wanted—her thoughts, her consideration, her heart—and he was never going to get them.
“Until you can give me all that, don’t offer me your body again,” he said softly.
“I’ll never share those deep parts of myself with another man. I loved Mike.”
Nick had known that, but hearing her say the words still stabbed him deep. “Then we have nothing else to say. Go to bed.”
Another outburst sat on the tip of her tongue. It was all over her face, but she stifled it, jerking down to lay on her side, back to him, and yanked the covers to her neck.
“Fine.” She reached up and turned off the dingy lamp on her nightstand, killing the bit of glow in the room. “But how are we possibly going to convince anyone tomorrow that we’re in love?”
Because she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t loathe him. Message received loud and clear. He’d gotten what he wanted—for her to think he was a douchebag and to keep her distance—so he shouldn’t pout like a bitch about it now.
Even if he hated the corner he’d wedged himself into.
Nick turned off his own lamp. “Sasha?”
“What?”
The parking lot lamp outside their window lit the room just well enough to see her outline in the bed beside him.
He grabbed her wrist and tugged her onto her back.
An instant later, he was on her, sinking his fingers into her hair, breathing her name against her lips as he captured her mouth with his own.
Sasha already suffered a soft ache between her legs when Nick began asking pointed questions in sexual growls.
When his long fingers scorched their way around her wrist, her blood had caught fire.
Then suddenly, she’d found herself lying flat on her back, staring breathlessly into his midnight eyes as he silently dismantled her defenses.
You ever wanted a man so much you begged him to fuck you until your throat felt raw?
Was he saying he could do that to her?