Near To You (5 page)

Nia arched against him, rubbing the length of his erection between them. “I want you,” she whispered.

His hands slid down to cup her ass, squeezing her cheeks roughly before he lifted her and sat back on his heels so she straddled his lap. “Do you?” he asked in a hoarse voice that sent warmth rushing through her veins.

She leaned her head back, met his gaze. So much there—a mix of desire and worry, a tinge of doubt like he didn’t entirely believe her throbbing, wanting body.

“I want all of this,” she returned, searching his gaze. “I want
you
.”

A beat of silence passed with just their gazes locked, and then he shifted her up and down to connect their bodies as well. The broad head of his cock pushed, slick with her wetness, sliding past her folds and into her. She gasped at the pleasure-pain of his fullness stretching her. She met his thrust with one of her own, rolling her hips downward.

They found their rhythm, slow at first, acclimating to one another’s bodies. She gripped his shoulders and rocked; his hands came up to claim her breasts, calloused fingertips working her sensitive nerves into a frenzy. Quick, panting breaths left her lips, her heart thumping wildly.

“I’ve wanted you so long,” he growled against her ear. “So fucking
long
. You feel amazing.” One hand dipped down to press her clit and she cried out, bucking against him.

She dragged her nails over his scalp, through his sweat-damp hair, trying to stave off the climax building and knew she couldn’t for long. “I want to come with you. Please.”

Brady twisted and flopped them back on the bed, hammering into her, still playing her clit. His free hand came to hers, fingers twining, and pinned it by her head palm-to-palm. Nia met his gaze and couldn’t look away, not as warm tingles built down low, a heat threatening to set her on fire. The sensation was nearly too much but she held until she hit the brink and then cried his name, rocketing on waves of pleasure. He gave one final, brutal thrust into her and groaned his relief, then slumped onto her.

For several long minutes they stayed connected, unmoving. Her heart and breathing slowed at last. He was heavy and hot, crushing her lungs, but it was the most delicious feeling and she didn’t want to let go.

But Brady shifted first, slipping out of her wetness. He rolled off the condom, tied off the end, and deposited it in the trash by the nightstand. When he turned back to her, panic clawed up her throat; he parted his lips like he was about to say something, the frenzy of their love-making retreating and reality settling in again.

But no. No, she didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to know about him leaving. She wanted one goddamn night and it wasn’t even midnight yet.

Her arms snaked around him and she pressed her lips to his nipple, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of sweat on his skin. Her gaze entreated him and whatever he was going to say, he relented and slid back down onto the pillows with her. Strong, gentle arms wrapped around her body, fingers trailing the length of her spine. She closed her eyes, feeling cared for and sated for the first time in years.

Chapter Six

Niara awoke in an empty bed.

Her arm stretched out as she blinked her eyes open, but found only cool, rumpled white blankets. She sat up, holding the sheet to her bare chest, and glanced around—no sign of Brady or his clothes, and the bathroom door lay open to show a dark room.

Shit
. She slumped down and closed her eyes again. Her body had a comfortable, good ache like after a workout at the gym, and she’d slept wonderfully. Whatever time it was in the morning had bright yellow sunlight spearing through the blinds and poking around her closed eyes. Still, her heart hurt despite the happy feeling in her body, and she rolled on her side and curled.

One night. That was all she’d asked for, after all. And she’d thought that...that after everything that happened, everything they did, maybe it would turn out differently. Maybe he’d be there curled up with her, at least, and she might ask if she could see him again. It was selfish to expect him to stay, perhaps, but she wanted more.

She wanted
him
.

At last she opened her eyes again and checked the clock. 11:30. She didn’t even have a phone number to reach him and for all she knew, he left at dawn. Her chest felt carved out and hollow, missing his warmth and his smile already. If she checked her phone, she’d probably find messages from Deena—she’d need to tell her friend everything. And Deena would expect her to be happy. Last night, she had been. Now?

Nia sighed, dragged the blankets back, and rose. The scuffed up hardwood floor was warm from the sun creeping around the blinds, and she immediately padded for her fuzzy pink bathrobe resting on a pile of boxes marked BEDROOM. Coffee. Maybe breakfast. Or hell, maybe leftover wine. That sounded like a good plan.

Down the hall she went toward the stairs, yawning with each step, running her hand back through her tangled hair.

A noise caught her attention and she paused.

The floor downstairs creaked under heavy steps.

Oh shit, the contractor.
He wouldn’t come in her house uninvited, would he? She thumped down the stairs, her fuzzy robe brushing her bare legs, and whirled around the corner.

And stopped.

A familiar figure stood in her kitchen over the stove. He was dressed, pacing back and forth with a spatula in hand, humming softly. Coffee brewed in the corner and butter sizzled in a pan on the stove.

What the hell?

As if sensing her attention, Brady paused and turned, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Morning.”

She blinked. “You’re still here.”

He set the spatula down and turned, frowning. “Yeah...?”

“But you were supposed to be leaving.”

His jaw set and eyes hardened. “I didn’t realize ‘one night’ was literal and not involving morning.”

“But the guy said you were leaving today—moving across country.”

“Guy...?” His lips pressed tight and he shook his head, looking away. “So that’s why you asked. You didn’t think I’d be around today.”

She was still tired and confused as hell. “Well, no—yes—but it’s not—”

Muttering under his breath, he turned and stalked from the kitchen.

“Brady!” She started after him, around the corner, to see the porch door swinging in his wake. She burst outside after him, shouting his name, but he was already at the road and turned toward his van.

Jesus, what the hell had she just done?

****

With considerable effort, Brady slowed his van down, easing off the gas though he’d practically stomped down on it when he left.

She knew. Must’ve heard something when she went to the grocery store—fucking small town.
That
was why she asked. Why she wanted him there for the night. Like she’d said, she was still kind of messed up. She wasn’t looking for anything more. And probably never with someone like him.

His fault. All his fault. He’d thought there was something there. That she might want him to stick around. But then why would she? He was no one important. Not some rich, powerful lawyer like her ex-husband—the type she apparently went for. Fine for a quick fuck but not relationship material.

Holy shit, he was fucking stupid.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, going white-knuckled, and he ground his teeth. That was just fine, then. He’d pick up the things he’d already packed and leave. Four or five hours behind schedule, sure, but soon the goddamn little town—and everyone in it—would be miles behind him and forgotten.

****

“Just don’t even start with the, ‘What’s the big deal?’” Niara said immediately, phone pinched between her shoulder and her head while she dashed around her room getting dressed.

“Wasn’t going to,” Deena insisted.

Nia shoved her legs into jeans and dragged the material up. “He was making me breakfast. Pancakes! What if he decided to stay because of me and I fucked it up? Jesus, I’m such a goddamn
idiot
, but you know my head’s not on straight in the morning—”

“So what are you going to do?”

She set the phone down long enough to pull on a T-shirt, then snatched it up again. “I’m going to find him.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know! But it’s not
that
big of a town. I can—”

“Drive around and shout his name out the window like he’s a lost puppy?”

Nia sighed and sank on the end of the bed, rubbing her temples. “I guess not if it’s that stupid.”

“Phone number?”

“Disconnected—I tried 411. And I tried the company he worked for and they wouldn’t give out employee information.”

“Friends?”

She still wasn’t sure what the guy from yesterday’s name was. “Drawing a blank.”

“Family?”

“He has a sister but she must’ve married and changed her name—I tried Tracie Trewin and came up with nothing.”

“Hold on.” The click of fingers forcefully tapping a keyboard sounded—Deena must’ve been at her laptop.

“Are you doing something illegal?”

“Nope. Facebook.” And a moment later: “There. Tracie Trewin-Valenti. Married to a guy named David. Annnnd...get a pen—there’s only one Valenti in town.”

Jeez, she was quick. Nia scrambled for her purse, pulled out a pen and paper, and jotted down the number Deena gave her. “Thank you
so
much.”

“Find him. Anyone who gives my girl multiple Os in one night is a keeper—if only so I can have him afterward.”

Niara chuckled, shook her head, said her goodbyes, and immediately dialed up Tracie. The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Dread pooled in her stomach. What the hell was she thinking? What if—

“Hello?”

She jumped and nearly dropped the phone. “Hi—may I speak to Tracie?”

“Speaking.”

Great. Not like I planned what in the hell I was going to say to her.
She took a deep breath. “I’m a friend of Brady’s...”

****

Twenty minutes later, Niara sat in a coffee shop on the main four quarters downtown, sipping a full-bodied dark roast that was absolutely heavenly. The shop was cool but she sat near a window and warm sun wrapped her in its embrace.

A woman walked deliberately toward her and she glanced up. Tracie had long dark hair swept up into a loose ponytail, a multi-colored pastel diaper bag on one shoulder, and a toddler on her hip. She smiled widely and looked a few years older than Brady.

“I’m Tracie,” she said as she took the seat opposite Niara, and placed the little girl on the seat beside her. “And this is Louisa.”

The child giggled and clapped, and her eyes were the same rich blue as both her mom and Uncle Brady.

Brady
. His name was an uncomfortable pinch, like poking a bruise but she tried to smile. “Niara.”

Tracie grinned. “I have a framed article from the MHS Tailspin, Brady’s senior year—a feature you did on him when they finally won a game. Sits on my mantle.”

It was sweet to know, yes, but not why she’d called Tracie in the first place. “Like I said on the phone, I wondered if you had a cell number I could use to reach him.”

But Tracie shook her head, shifting her attention to the diaper bag where she pulled out a juice bottle for her daughter. “’Fraid I don’t.”

Great. You wanted to meet me here
why,
then
?

“He was planning to call me in a few days, and then again when he got settled somewhere.”

Nia’s heart sank. “When he does, could you...I don’t know, give him a message? Ask him to call me? I...” Tracie’s gaze was steady on her and she shifted uncomfortably. “There was a misunderstanding and I really need to talk to him.”

Tracie rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward, frowning as she seemed to search for words. “The thing you have to understand is that our mother died. Two years ago.”

Jesus
. “I’m sorry—”

But she held up a hand to stop any more sympathies. “She was treated when we were in high school, got better, but went into remission and it spread. Our Dad is weird and he basically stopped talking to us. He doesn’t want anything reminding him of her around.”

Pieces of her conversation with Brady slid into place. “That’s when he quit his job.”

Tracie nodded. “Death brings things into perspective. Me, I was happy for him. I thought he should do what he wanted. But he drifted around. His live-in girlfriend left him because he wanted to live simpler. Then he got it in his head he wanted to leave. I love my brother, I’ll miss him, but I told him he should do what he wanted—and if that involved just driving and seeing where he ended up, so be it.”

Nia crossed her arms at her midsection, gaze falling to the abandoned cup of coffee in front of her. White threads of steam drifted up and she focused for a moment on that and let everything else readjust in her brain. Everything that had happened yesterday really meant something to him. He was even going to stay that morning, despite his initial resolve to leave.

And then she’d mumbled the wrong thing and ruined it. Wonderful.

“His furniture’s in storage and he has bins of other things at my place. Came by around noon and asked me to store a handful of things he ‘didn’t need’ in my basement...” She leaned over to rifle through the diaper bag again and pulled out a big hardback book, with a full color painting of the town’s river on the front cover.

A yearbook. Silver inscribed date on the corner put it as from twelfth grade. Tracie set it on the table and pushed it to Niara, who gingerly raised it, dragging her fingers over the smooth surface.

“Now, look who signed the first page.”

Niara opened the front cover and immediately recognized her girly, cursive handwriting—it hadn’t changed much at all in years—among all the other signatures.
Brady: Thank you for all your help this year—it’s meant the world to me. Have an amazing summer if I don’t see you, though I hope I will. You’re a gem. ~Niara
.

And if his sister was pointing this out to her, surely she was like Brady’s friend at the grocery store—she knew. All those years in school, everyone knew and didn’t think to tell her. And Tracie no doubt guessed why Brady was pissed and considered the yearbook he’d held onto all this time suddenly something he didn’t need.

“Do you remember your yearbook staff photo? Page thirty-seven.”

Niara flipped until she found the right one, in black and white with big, puffy letters at the top: YEARBOOK STAFF AND VOLUNTEERS. There was everyone smiling, Niara in the center of the photo looking bright and happy with a huge smile of white teeth, holding the painting that would become the yearbook cover that year. Off to the right stood a tall, wiry kid with dark hair, facing the camera and smiling though the photo had been snapped with his gaze on her.

She felt ill. “You’re not going to tell him I asked about him.”

Tracie reached for the yearbook and eased it out of Nia’s hands, then closed the cover and returned it to her bag. “If he asks? Sure, I will. If he doesn’t? Well...”

Shit. “Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

She glanced at her daughter and smiled brightly. “Can you do Mommy a favor, baby girl? Cover your ears.” Louisa giggled but didn’t let go of her cup, so Tracie reached over and pressed her palms over her little girl’s ears before she met Nia’s gaze. “Whatever this misunderstanding was, whatever you said—you fucked up, honey.”