Hold Me If You Can (19 page)

Something flashed in Nigel’s eyes, a brief insight as to the humanity that still existed within him. He bowed his head for a split second, and his body lurched as more metal exploded out of his back.

“Oh, God. I’m such a dork.” She lifted his face to hers. “I can’t believe I’m such a wuss that I’m asking you to seduce me when you’re about to snap. Just take me, Nigel. I can get there on my own. I’ll figure it out—”

“Hey, Natalie,” he interrupted softly, his eyes dark as he searched her face. “The tenderness you want from me is the greatest gift I could give you. You heal me simply by your needs.”

She felt her body relax at the husky intimacy of his voice. “Really?”

“Really.” He managed a small smile, and then he kissed her. And it wasn’t a kiss of carnal need. It was a kiss of gentleness. Of beautiful desire. Of a deep craving. His mouth was soft. A kiss here. A kiss there. His hand lightly tangled in her hair. His hips moving against hers in a seductively tempting rhythm, an invitation, not a command.

And she responded, her body and soul coming to life under Nigel’s touch. Of her beautiful, powerful artist. Desire flared through her, and her heart began to race.

Then he pulled back and framed her face. “Sweet love.” He brushed her hair off her face. “Feel the strength of my arms holding onto you. It’s okay to let yourself go.”

Her eyes began to burn at the honesty of his tone. She felt the truth of his words, that he was really going to keep her safe.

“I’m not the Godfather.” He kissed her again, a deeper kiss, nudging her lips apart. “I’m Nigel. Always Nigel.”

She whispered his name, trembling at the amazing sensation of his tongue brushing over hers. Warm, soft, intimate, an offer, a gift, not a ruthless demand that was forcing a response from her unwilling soul. Instead it was a seduction, an invitation to play. To dance, just a little bit.

His body convulsed against hers, and she gripped his shoulders. “Nigel!”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He cupped her face and kissed her again, his lips so gentle and seductive, with just a hint of the desire driving him. “Kiss me back, sweetheart. Kiss me.” His deep voice was so gentle, so tender, and yet so tightly strung with pain, with desire, with heat, all of which he was keeping under ruthless control so as not to scare her. To allow her time to find her footing. He was of such rigid, iron will that he was controlling a monster just to help her feel safe (and of course, to make sure he didn’t kill her, which was always a fantastic trait in a man).

Nigel wasn’t an artist.

He wasn’t a monster.

He was a warrior, a protector, a guardian of all that fell under his protective wingspan, and he was granting that protection to
her
.

And with that realization in her, the wall of iron fear that had been holding her back… it disintegrated.

And suddenly Natalie couldn’t get enough. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted Nigel’s hands on her, his mouth on her. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. Her soul began to glow, alight with the passion that had fought for freedom her whole life.

She kissed him with all the passion that she’d been holding back for so long. For in this moment, in his ruthlessly strong arms, in his embrace, pinned beneath his body, it felt safe to let it all go. He wouldn’t kill her. She wasn’t going to die. Not right now. And embracing her true, passionate self was her fast-track toward
life.

Nigel apparently sensed her change, because his kiss went from seduction to passion in a split second.

It was exactly what she wanted.

Nigel’s kiss deepened, probing, thrusting, taking, and he palmed the sensitive skin on Natalie’s belly.

She shuddered when she felt the warmth of his hand splayed across her stomach. Such strength, such desire. It made her feel adored and admired. Wanted for who she was, not simply because she was some oversexed chick in the thrall of deedub passion.
Yes.

He kept kissing her, kept up the marvelously decadent assault, and then shifted his weight to the side. He slipped his hand between her legs and tugged on the button of her jeans.

She tensed in anticipation as she heard the burl of the zipper being undone. He moved his hand over her belly, then lower. A touch, a brush, lower, and lower.

Her body began to throb, and her soul began to dance. She felt light in her heart, excited, like this was where she was supposed to be, the place she’d been striving to access for so long. The place of oneness with her soul, with her desires, with the passion that was the very essence of who she was.

“You okay?” He whispered the question against her mouth, his forehead against hers, a position so intimate, only between lovers who were emotionally connected.

Her heart opened to him then, to this man who was so dangerous, so tortured, who wanted nothing more than to find peace in his soul and to retreat into a world of art and sensuality. A warrior who was giving it all up to fight for those he loved.

She loved the feel of his whiskers against her cheek, basked in the sensation of his hand gently stroking her lower belly. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “It’s perfect.”

He kissed her again, hard and deep, and her soul lifted in response. Pressure pounded in her chest, and she knew it was her heart opening for the first time in her life.

“I’ve been wanting you since I first saw you so insane on that street,” he whispered as his hand slipped beneath her underwear and touched her. “You were a contrast of passion and fire and terror.” His face softened and he smiled tenderly. “There was such anguish in your face. I wanted to save you. I still do.” And then he plunged deep with his fingers, claiming her most intimate parts and making them his.

I
wanted
to
save
you.
It was like the gift of heaven, the feel of him inside her. His words still echoed in her mind. He’d seen her for who she was, even through the deedub thrall, he’d seen her truth, and he’d been attracted to that? Not to the passionate crazy woman. But to the woman who had walked through life afraid. And yet he’d also seen her passion, and he’d drawn it. “I want to live,” she whispered.

“I know you do, sweetheart. I know you do.” He pulled back then and pulled his shirt off. “We’re both going to. The battle is ours.”

His upper body rippled with muscle, and there were scars riddling his body. A red and gold phoenix was emblazoned across his chest, a magnificent drawing of the bird who could rise from the ashes. There were dozens of puckers from the blades that had been tearing out of his body, bright pink scars that were already healing.

Her heart bled for the pain he’d endured, but as he rose to yank off his jeans, she saw his muscles corded and flexed beneath his taut skin, and she felt his power, his strength. His body trembled and he stopped for a second and fisted his hands, willing his blades to stay in control. The tendons on his neck were bulging with the effort. Sweat was dripping down his brow, and agony twisted his face as blades exploded out of his upper body, shooting in all directions.

Natalie flinched and covered her face, but none came near her.

He swore and dropped to his knees, tugged her jeans off her and then lowered himself on her. “Takes a second for them to rebuild,” he whispered as he brushed his lips over her neck. “We have a window.”

God, the feel of his hot skin against hers was magnificent! With all the weapons expelled from his body, he wasn’t prickly anymore, just smooth, hard muscle. It was seductive, amazing, and it felt so right.

Nigel kissed her breasts and then went to work on her body, activating every nerve ending, touching every inch of skin, caressing every curve. Desire swelled through her and she shifted restlessly, unable to focus on anything but the onslaught of sensation. Of his thighs between hers. Of his mouth on her breast. Of his hand gripping her hips, stroking over her skin, over her belly. Of the strength of his body as he loomed over her. Sensation rushed at her from all directions, until she couldn’t keep track of where his hands were, what his mouth was kissing, of what part of her skin was touching his.

Her mind was consumed by Nigel, by his touch, by his body, by his kiss, by the connection between them. Desire was pinging in every cell of her body, but it was more than desire. It was need. It was the very depths of her soul wanting it all, tapping into a fire, a power, a truth that had eluded her for a lifetime. And it was there now, in her hands, in her heart, in her soul, beating with life, with love, with power.

And then Nigel was between her thighs. Silky hardness nudged at her body. She needed him inside her. She craved that completion. She was desperate to lose herself in him. To abandon all fear, all resistance, all caution, and to simply ride. To live without fear, even if just for that moment.

He met her gaze, and she saw the question in his eyes. His skin was rippling now, as another round of danger began to form. There were more now, and she saw his anguish. His desperation.

“Yes,” she whispered. “
Yes.
”

He didn’t take his gaze off her face as he raised his hips and positioned himself.

She grabbed his forearms where they were braced on either side of her head, gripping the taut muscles, feeling his raw strength.

“It’s me,” Nigel said, his deep voice laced with the agony of what he was enduring, raspy from the monster within. “It’s
me.
” And then he thrust.

She gasped at the invasion, and her whole body shook with the magnificence of the sensation. She was there with him, with every move, with every touch.

Nigel swore. “Jesus, this is unbelievable.” And then he pulled out and thrust again. And again.

The sensations were overwhelming, amazing, magnificent waves of such intense pleasure. Passion raged inside her and leapt to the conjunction of their bodies, of their souls. The connection burned between them. She could feel Nigel’s pain, his passion, his anguish, and she opened her heart and her soul to him, to herself, to them.

His hips moved more quickly, taking her, and he kept his gaze desperately and tenderly on hers, demanding her attention as her body convulsed. She gasped as a tiny convulsion ripped through her. Oh, dear God. Her first orgasm since—

“Again,” Nigel demanded. “Again!”

And another one. Small, but rippling all the way down to her toes. Another one, and she was still alive. She was still sane. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.” She was trembling now, scared, but excited.

“Let it go,” he ordered, gently demanding her capitulation. “Go all the way.
Trust
me.
” And then he shoved her knees up toward her shoulders and thrust again.

The orgasm plunged through her with a glowing passion that made her body thrum and her soul sing.

Nigel thrust again. “Tell me,” he ordered. “Tell me now.”

She fought through the cloud of ecstasy, and she focused her energy on the passion pulsing through her, on the unstoppable desires that illuminated her body. Her core rippled with power, and her entire being began to throb. Her soul glowed, and she drove that power into her vocal cords, and then fed it to Nigel. “You don’t need to draw,” she gasped. The words echoed in the air, pulsing with force and power. She felt them in every cell of her body, in her throat. A high. A rush.

His body shuddered. “More, Natalie, give me more,” he urged, driving deep again. An orgasm hit him, and he shouted her name.

An answering orgasm ripped through Natalie. She welcomed it, drank in the rush, the full sensuality of the experience. She took his face in his hands and brought him down to her, riveted by those beautiful brown eyes that carried so much emotion. “Nigel.” She stroked her fingers over his cheek. “You do not need art to control your monster. You can restrain every blade at any time. You can be in control simply by deciding that’s how you want to be.”

“I feel you in my head.” His body began to shake, and his face tensed. He began to pull away, and she felt his resistance spring up. “I need to block you—”

“No, you don’t.” She put her hand on his heart. “Trust me, Nigel, the way I trusted you. You
are
in control. You’re at peace and there is no pain in your heart anymore. No anger. There is simply you, in utter control of what you want and who you want to be—”

“Holy crap.” He pulled out, lurched off her, and rolled away, cutting her off.

Oh, God. Tears filled her eyes in dismay. She’d failed again.

***

Nigel couldn’t believe it.

He absolutely couldn’t believe it.

It was gone. The anger. The fury. The crazed insanity. The metal stabbing him in his own back. Gone! He ran his hand over his arm and felt smooth skin. No blades poking at him or brewing deep inside his flesh “Hot damn!” He grinned at Natalie, who was propped up on her elbows, looking utterly distraught.

He leapt over to her, grabbed her hands, and tugged her to her feet. “You did it!” He pulled her against him and began to waltz with her across the grass. God, it felt so amazing to hold her.

“Did what?” she sounded confused. Wary.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He framed her face and smiled at her. Her green eyes were like emeralds sparkling in the moonlight, and her skin was so soft. More than he’d ever been able to experience before. “Dear God, you’re beautiful.” He bowed his head and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes as sensations assaulted him from that innocent act. Fire, passion, sensuality, desire, possessiveness. He pulled back, gazing into her upturned face. “You’re my angel, my guardian angel, delivered to me to bring my soul back from hell.”

A smile of disbelief softened her lovely features as she placed a gentle and tender hand on his forehead. “You’re better?”

“You cleared it all away.” He raised his arms to the night sky, basking in the sensations delighting his heart. His soul felt unburdened, his body felt light, his mind clear and effortless. “There’s nothing but peace in my body.”

Natalie frowned. “But you shut me out after we made love.”

He swept her up in his arms. “I’m so sorry about that. You know how I am when you get in my head.” He kissed her again, marveling at how soft her lips were. “You threw me for a loop. In my state as an ungrateful and uncouth male, I was unable to express my appreciation at that precise moment.” He nuzzled her neck until she laughed. “Forgive me?”

“Never,” she teased, her face lightening. “Men who don’t appreciate me are forever punished.”

“No, not men. Just me. There can never be another man. I couldn’t possibly share you.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” He placed her gently on her feet, cupped one hand around her lower back, and then took her other. “May I have this dance, my angel?”

“What? Here?”

“Of course here.” He tugged lightly, and she smiled as she allowed him to guide her into a waltz. Together, they spun across the grassy infield as he hummed a waltz. “Do you realize what this feels like?” He twirled her and then enfolded her against him again, marveling at the magnificence of two naked bodies pressed together. Natalie’s and his. A fit beyond perfection. “My heart is light. There’s no dark monster inside me that I’m trying to fight off.” He set her hand on his chest. “Do you feel that? It’s peace, Natalie; it’s utter and complete peace.”

Her fingertips curved into his chest, a delightful, sensual move that made his whole body warm. “Really? We did it? The monster is gone? Without art?”

“You did it. I know it worked. I feel completely different than I ever have before. There is simply no violence inside me. Not even a whisper.” He hauled her close and kissed her. Her mouth tasted luscious and sweet, pure, unadulterated pleasure. Even the kiss was different now. “There’s no darkness. There’s no taint. There’s just the purest of beauty. Of sensation. Of life.” He kissed her again, delighting in the sensation of beautiful longing and sensual lust racing through him. No resistance, just the purity of the moment. “It’s amazing.” He nuzzled her neck, feeling giddy like a little boy. “I want to dance,” he said. “I want to sing.” He twirled her away, laughing at her surprised giggle.

“You’re crazy,” she laughed.

“No, I’m sane, finally, for the first time in my life. There’s no inner violence trying to threaten my serenity. It’s just me, how I’ve been trying to be for so long.” He threw his arm around Natalie’s shoulder and pulled her against him, then pointed to the sky, the endless canvas of perfection that was far more dazzling than it ever had been before. “Do you see the beauty of those twinkling lights? The magnificence of all that endless space? The stars are so bright. The night is so black. Isn’t that contrast amazing? It’s sheer beauty.” He breathed in the crispness of the night air. “I want to paint it.”

Natalie tensed. “You do? But that’s not good—”

“No, no, my girl.” He turned her toward him. “I want to paint the beauty now. It’s different.”

“What did you paint before?” She frowned, her captivating green eyes so full of question and interest.

He stroked her hair, marveling at how soft it was. He could feel things he’d never been able to sense before. It was incredible. “Before, I painted to try to soothe my soul. I painted out of need.” He didn’t remember anyone ever being that concerned about what was going on in his mind and his soul, and he wanted to lift her to the heavens and kiss her until angels came down and blessed them both. “I painted anguish. Conflict. Angst.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, stunned by how soft her skin was. It was as if all his senses had come alive, no longer fettered with all the baggage that had been weighing him down for long. “I had to paint suffering so I could put my negative energy into the painting and take it out of my own soul.”