Mine: Black Sparks MC (20 page)

“I already made up my mind.”

Liana remembered. “I can’t let you do that. The Sparks are your family, Nick. What about Tryg, and Tomahawk? And Kirrily? It would mean leaving her, too.”

Nick’s eyes flicked a little, as if this were an aspect he had not yet considered. But he paused only for a moment. “I don’t need them. Not really. I can make it on my own. I just never had the chance before.”

“That’s what I said a few years ago,” said Liana. “Making it on your own sounds wonderful. It sounds glamorous and fun. But it isn’t, Nick. It’s hard and lonely and scary. I should know. I tried to make it on my own in New York, and look what happened. I failed. I fell into Jack’s trap, and now I can never—”

“You didn’t fail,” Nick cut her off. “You just needed a little more time.”

“Nick, listen to what I’m saying!” Liana raised her voice. “You have a family here. You have people who care about you. Do you know how incredibly lucky you are to have found that? You’re going to give that up to go on the run, to try your luck out there, god knows where—for
me
?”

Nick flicked his eyes up to the ceiling, and sighed. “Liana, all I know is, I can’t turn away. I have tried, believe me. Tried and tried. Logically I know I should. But then you look at me and—how can I let you be with Jack, when I can tell just by looking at you that you’re afraid?”

She had stepped back, and now he looked down at her critically, almost parentally, his hands on her elbows. As if her face were a test he were trying to study for, the earnestness on his face heartbreaking.

“I didn’t mean it when I said I lied about him hurting me,” she whispered, a lump rising in her throat.

“I know. I never doubted you.”

“Thank you,” she said, impulsively reaching up to brush his hair off his face and give him a kiss there.

He squeezed her against himself tightly, just for a second, as if he were transferring his strength to her. “Now come on,” he said, striding across the two-car garage, beckoning her toward the door leading into the house.

She paused. “What?”

“You want to stay in the garage? I spend enough time in garages. Let’s go upstairs and jump on the beds.”

“How could they afford to leave all this furniture in here when they left?” Nick asked as they spied the polished oak dining table with place settings for four, a vase of nasturtiums in the middle. “And the silverware, too?”

Liana paused, then burst out laughing. “Nick, haven’t you ever heard of staging?” Liana asked, shoving his shoulder.

He turned around, bewildered. “What, like a play? We weren’t all in the drama club.”

“No, I mean, like in real estate. I guess we didn’t all watch as much HGTV as I do, either. Come on,” she said with a laugh.

Nick had gotten assurance from Becky Summers that he’d be free to use the house for at least tonight and tomorrow morning. Becky would make sure that none of the neighbors called the cops, that if anyone noticed him entering the house, she had assured all of them that he was a real-estate assessor.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Liana hesitated to touch anything as she moved past the hall closet and into the hall the house she’d spent most of her childhood in. Nick stood behind her.  “This is where you used to hang your backpack.” Liana shuddered. “To warn me when Noel was in a bad mood.”

“I know it didn’t always work,” he said. “It was just my stupid, helpless teenage self trying to convince myself that I could save you.”

“Nick.” She touched his arm.

“What?” he asked quickly, a surprised expression on his face.

“You tried. And that’s what matters. Hey,” she said, glancing up the stairs and speaking before he could respond. “We could go up to your old room.”

“In the attic?” Nick scoffed.

“It wasn’t the attic,” Liana countered automatically. “It was the third floor.”

“Yeah, that’s what your mom told me, too. At least when my other foster parents gave me a room in an attic, they
called
it an attic.”

“Yeah, I never bought it either,” she said with a laugh. “It was also where--” she bit down on her tongue to keep from saying the rest
: where Noel found us
.

The door swung open, and Liana clung to the doorframe, her stomach suddenly churning, memories coming back to her in flashes of bloody red and black. Noel screaming at them, hauling Nick up to his feet and sending him crashing into the window. Then, the flashing lights of the police car that pulled up, its siren haunting her like a scream. And after that was gone, the way she had stood shaking in the doorway, trying to slink off, as if there were any chance of being unable to attract Noel’s attention, when the very first thing he’d done after shutting the front door was stride across the room to slap her across the face and call her a disgusting little whore. After that, her memory had blocked most of it out. Only the marks on her skin told the tale, the way he’d grabbed the extension cord from the lamp, shattering it, before hurling the broken lamp at her. He’d come after her with the cord, lashing at her, the shards of the broken bulb grazing her shoulder, sinking into her flesh like bared teeth. As if the humiliation and grief she was already feeling about what had happened with Nick weren’t enough...

“Liana? Are you okay?” Nick’s voice seemed to filter back into her ears as if she were hearing it from underwater, fathoms below the surface. He braced her against himself, as if she were a plant with a flimsy stem. In that moment, that solidity was all she could feel.

“I--” She sank to her knees, and Nick immediately reached for her. She figured he was already blaming himself, thinking it had been a mistake to come here. And maybe it had been.

“This is where he--”

“Oh, Jesus, Liana. I’m so sorry. I was an idiot. We shouldn’t have come up here. Come on. We’ll--”

“No,” Liana heard herself saying. “I want to do it, Nick. It’s important to me.”

And for six years, the idea that those memories were the last ones she had of Nick--scared they’d be the last ones she’d
ever
have of Nick. Maybe it was a mistake to have come up here. She swallowed and her grip tightened on his shirt, his heartbeat and warmth.
He was here
. Nick was here now. And that had to count for something.

She squeezed him closer, a child with a security blanket, burying her head into his neck. “It’s just--” she gasped. “The memories.”

Nick was silent for a moment. “So let’s make new ones.”

She raised her head slightly. “Can we?”

“I spent so many nights up here lying in bed, staring out that window, thinking about you,” he whispered, turning his head slightly, gazing at the narrow window like an old friend who had done him wrong. Sunlight filtered in, alighting the dust swirling in the room, the shadows of the maple leaves outside casting strange shapes on his face. “And I felt so guilty about it. I knew it was the worst thing I could have done.”

“No, it was the best,” she whispered back, reaching to give him a gentle kiss on the side of his face, and she felt his eyes close underneath her lips, the muscles of his face tensing slightly as she kissed his jawbone and his neck. His hand slid up her arm. “You just didn’t know it. And I should have told you earlier. But I was scared.”

Her hands fumbled around his chest, hitting zippers and buttons, and then she heard the familiar sound of leather hitting the floor as he shed the jacket.

“Good thing I never stopped,” he said.

She felt her insides curl and uncurl, as he slid his hands underneath her shirt and up her back, steadying her as she put her weight on her knees, tumbling awkwardly, her feet underneath her. She felt her bra unhooked, then her shirt. They tumbled to the floor and she felt herself being eased backward, unsure whether she was guiding him or he was guiding her. They were guiding each other.

In fact, there was innocent quality about all of their movements. They had touched each other, been inside each other before. But, somehow, this was like the first time. In a way, it
was
the first time.

Nick reached down to place his head in the crook of her neck, his soft breath rushing across her bare skin, his lips warming her, prickling every nerve, the ends of his hair brushing the places where he had just kissed. Liana’s hands were suspended in mid-air, almost paralyzed for a second by what he was evoking in her as his lips moved lower, grazing her now-bare breasts. She grabbed his hand and guided it downward, and he followed her in a way that was almost obedient.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Touch me here,” she said, and his fingers flexed, his knuckles brushing over the bone between her legs, the mound of flesh covering it, the place that waited in anticipation for him.

She felt her back flex against the hard wooden floor, and she must have winced a little, because Nick reached behind him and grabbed his leather jacket, tucking it lovingly underneath back. “This should make things more comfortable,” he murmured.

“Touch me everywhere,” she gasped, her words garbled as she tipped her head back as if she were going underwater, and she could barely respond in more than a hiss as his fingers became electric on her body, down between her breasts and the nerve-filled line down to her navel. Then, between her legs, hot and suddenly wet, slickness gathering in the folds of her flesh as his mouth drew it out of her. She closed her eyes, then forced herself to open them as Nick continued to kiss her, his mouth moving in rhythm with his hands.

Nick had such a serious quality on his face as he obeyed, and his eyes were always the eyes of a man who had seen more than he should have. Simultaneously, he was the grown man brave enough to take her, and the boy young enough to be awed by the fact that he was allowed to. The idea that he would come closer to her, rather than spending his entire life running away, as she had once feared, enthralled her and she fell, losing herself in this moment, however brief and monumental.

“Do you think we can come together?” she whispered, her hands clawing for him, trying to get him to undo his jeans, hardly realizing what she was saying.

Nick didn’t reply, merely grunted. He had caught on, already shedding the rest of his clothing, and soon she felt his full weight upon her. She reached up to slide her hands down his broad back, already becoming damp with the sweat of exertion, the shoulders that had borne weight both literal and figurative. This was the body of a man who had been punched, beaten, shot and locked in prison, and through all that had fought for his brothers--and had stood firm in his willingness to abandon them all for her. It was a simple thing, but, perhaps, the most important thing of all.

He took his hand deeper, into a different spot, raking across her clit. A flash of pleasure gripped her as she burrowed deeper into the leather that braced her back, stiffening her limbs. Now, she reached for his shaft and stroked it gently, as she arched her back as he continued to touch her. She knew if she could just get this right, it could happen, and she closed her eyes, heaving as she stroked the firm, rippling smoothness in her hand, picking up speed, her jaw clenched as she concentrated, wanting to ensure that the pleasure she gave him was at least equal to every feeling he had evoked in her. In her willingness to surrender, she felt powerful.

“I have an idea.” She rolled him over so she was straddling him, his back resting against the jacket. She stiffened as his hands gripped her hips tightly.

He clenched his jaw, holding in her place like some precious jewel he had been awarded, as if it were enough just to be able to look at her with clear eyes. She could feel his body change underneath her, stiffen, grow rigid, just as she braced herself on him, her bare feet raking against the floorboards. He paused for only a moment before he realized what she had in mind, and he took her hands and cradled her. She lowered her body down onto his shaft, his penis penetrating her in a sensation that was sharp and left her breathless.

Nick reached up for her, his hands sliding down her hips, and she watched his strong shoulders flex and his bare chest expand before her, coated with sweat. She could tell he was in the midst of his own climax and she allowed him to come inside her, reveling in the warmth. He was strong, but she knew she was just as strong, and it only took a few seconds of his thrusting.

Liana arched her back one more time and closed her eyes. It was almost as if she could see the intensity of his gray-green pupils staring at her still. She opened her eyes to look at his face and, suddenly, she felt a single tear fall down her cheek that she didn’t dare reach up to wipe away. The crash of emotion and the waves of ecstasy coursing through her body were unlike any other. She felt a full-body shiver move through her as she doubled over.

She gently rolled off him and collapsed in a heap next to him. In an instant, his mouth was covering hers, kissing her lips and neck like she was the only thing he wanted to taste for the rest of his life, like she was something he had waited for in the long days and even more endless nights they had been apart.

Finally, he bared his teeth, a bite mark on her shoulder, intense, possessive. And it was okay. She had her moment; he could take the lead. She yielded to him, allowing the rest of her energy to drain away, to flow into him. She wedged herself closer, knowing she was clinging, relishing the feeling. They were now sharing the surface of the leather jacket in the bare attic room that had once haunted her memories. She lay still for a few seconds, their breathing in sync. She had just enveloped herself in a velvety darkness, suspended halfway between wake and sleep, when she felt him rise and cross the floor.

Her eyes flew open. She was surprised to see him crouched down, prying at one of the floorboards with both hands, brow furrowed in concentration.

“What are you doing?” she murmured.

“I just remembered something,” he said with a grunt and a yank. His hand emerged from the cavity with something long and glinting clutched within it.

“A switchblade?” Liana wrinkled her nose. “How very
Rebel Without a Cause
of you. How come you didn’t--oh.” Nick looked down at his hand and gave a sad smile. “I guess you didn’t exactly have time to pack a bag when you left here.”

“Plus the fact that I was stockpiling weapons in my room wouldn’t exactly endear me to the cops.” He turned it around in his hand, his damp bangs falling across his face, shielding the pensive look in his eyes.

“Why did you have that anyway?” she asked.

“It was nothing personal,” he said, looking up. “But by the time I ended up here, I was used to needing something to protect myself, wherever I went. Not like I wasn’t prepared to use it,” he said, rising to his feet. “Anyway, I want you to have it.” He held it out.

“Why me?”

“I can get all the weapons I need from Tryg. This means something to me. I never got to use it to protect you, but--maybe you can use it to protect yourself. Just in case. Here, let me show you how to use--”

“You mean like this?” She spun around suddenly, flicked the release, and the spring-action blade popped out, aimed toward Nick’s heart. He backed up, stumbling a little, his eyes wide with surprise. “Whoa! Um, yeah,” he said with a little laugh. “Like that.”