Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1) (24 page)

She runs through the house and down the
breezeway. Shivering as she knocks on the door of the guest house, she wraps
her arms around herself. The last time she was here, she didn’t listen to
Carrie, and it backfired. She can’t make the same mistake.

Nathan opens the door, still wearing his
scrubs, stifling a yawn. “Hey.”

“Hi. Is Carrie awake?”

“Yeah, but she’s in the shower. Do you
need something?”

Unable to seek her best friend’s advice
with Nathan here, she shakes her head. The truth about Spencer would be his
breaking point, and he’d want Carrie to leave. She refuses to make Carrie
choose between her and Nathan, to have her know the pain of being put in the
middle. “No, it’s okay. Just tell her good night for me.”

“Are you sure? You can come in if you
want.”

She gives him her posed smile, grateful
he’s too tired to notice the difference. “No, it’s late. I’ll just talk to her
in the morning. Good night.”

At the kitchen door, she pauses. Max
directs men to different areas of the house while one runs some kind of tool
around the baseboards in the living room. Nick comes out of his office driving
his hand through his hair, his face lined with worry. He motions to Max, and
they head upstairs.

Tightness fills her chest. She’s messed
up and has nowhere to go. Her life is not her own anymore. She doesn’t even
know where her car keys are.

“Shae?”

She jumps at Marta’s soft voice behind
her.

“Oh, Marta. I’m sorry. Did we wake you?”

“Is okay. Come sit with me. We talk the
girl talk.”

Shae accepts her outstretched hand,
grateful for a friendly face. They walk through the pantry to the steps leading
to Marta’s apartment over the garage. Once inside, she pats the navy and white
checked sofa in the sitting area. “You sit. I make tea. Is favorite kind.”

As Shae snuggles into the afghan draped
across the back, a bit of her anxiety releases at Marta’s confident hands
effortlessly performing the timeless ritual for generating warm comfort. She
fills a small kettle and places it on the stove before scooping loose tea into
the infuser. A hint of vanilla wafts through the open space from the African
solstice canister sitting next to two over-sized white mugs on the spotless
countertop. Waiting for the water to boil, Marta sits on the other end of the
sofa. “What happen?”

“I kept something from Nick I shouldn’t
have. It’s really bad. I just didn’t realize at the time what it meant.”

“Nick love you. It be okay.”

“I don’t know. He told me to stay with
Carrie tonight.” She shakes her head, trying to ignore the fear coiling around
her heart at the thought of their new sleeping arrangements becoming permanent.
“He’s never been angry with me before.”

“He mad at me sometimes.” Marta extends
her arms in front of her as if encompassing the room. “I still here.”

She smiles at Marta’s confidence. “You’re
right, you are. I’m glad.”

“I glad you here too. Nick need you.”

“I’m not sure if he thinks so after
tonight.”

The whistling steam shrieks from the
kitchenette, and Marta shakes her head before standing. “No give up too easy.”

“Okay, I’ll try.” She accepts the
steaming mug, the sweet scent of honey mingling with the tart berry flavor.
"Will you tell me more stories about Nick? I like hearing about him when
he was little.”

Marta’s soothing voice weaves a relaxing
atmosphere around them, easing some of the uncertainty from the commotion from
downstairs. She enjoys a second cup until an insistent buzz from Marta’s
bedside table makes her bolt up from the couch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I
was up here for so long. I’ve kept you up all night.”

“I have fun girl talking with you. I nap
later. Now, I get ready for church.”

She welcomes the strength of Marta’s arms
around her shoulders, holding Shae tight against her petite frame. “Thank you
for being such a good friend to me.”

“You come see me all times.”

The warmth from Marta’s embrace quickly
fades walking through the silent house. Her cold chill returns from the normal
peacefulness missing. Everything neat and orderly as Marta likes it, yet
slightly off. Noticeable things have been gone through. Moved and put back in
place.

Inside the bedroom, his clothes are
strewn across the chair. A used glass sits next to the empty bottle of whiskey.
The hiss of the shower fills the hollowness of the room.

Tears prick her eyes. Fear strangles them
both, old demons controlling them, interfering with their ability to completely
give themselves to each other. Even though she wants to, more than she’s ever
needed anything, to let go of all the doubt she holds onto so she can love him.
Help him understand why she said yes amidst her mother’s disappointed voice
whispering in her conscience.

She strips down and steps onto the tiled
floor. Her heart aches at Nick resting his head on his forearm against the
shower wall, oblivious to the water pouring down his back.

Taking a shaky breath, she steps closer
to him. “Can I come in?”

* * * *

Shae’s soft voice pierces his thoughts
and his heart as she takes a hesitant step toward him. Her fingers twist around
each other, short, pink nails pressing into her palms. In the steamy enclave,
wisps of hair curl around her face, sprinkled with beads of water splashing
against her and trickling down her creamy, smooth skin.

She pauses, biting her lip. Tentative.
Vulnerable. Insecure. Because of him
.
Because
he’s nothing but a fucking, selfish bastard who frightens the woman he loves
and makes her doubt his feelings.
He
has to make her understand how sorry he is. How much he needs her.

“Always.” He holds out his hand, his
chest constricting from the fear she might not accept, may not welcome his
touch. “You never have to ask.”

Her fingers grasp his, her once bright
eyes drowning in an ocean of tears. “I’m so sorry. I should never have—”

Fuck
this.
She deserves so much better than
the hell he puts her through.

He sweeps her up, wrapping her legs
around his waist and pressing his mouth against hers, halting her needless
words. Water ricochets off their bodies crushed together under the dual
waterfalls, and she relaxes in his arms, parting her lips to let him delve
deeper. Slippery hands glide up his back, soothing his anguish from pushing her
away.

All he can see is her, all he knows is
her touch, blazing over his skin, insistent on building their connection again.
His fingers drive through her tumbling hair, holding her head in place as he
pulls back and meets her tortured gaze. “I need you, and you’re here. Nothing
else matters.”

Ragged breaths heave in her chest as her
fingertips clutch his shoulders. “I need you more.”

“Promise you’ll never leave me.”

“I swear.”

He presses her against the wall and
thrusts inside her. Unable to hold back from driving into her softness,
shuddering at the feel of her around him. Her arms encircle his neck, and she
nuzzles his cheek, whispering his name into his hair while he grasps her hips,
not allowing any space between them. “Do you know how much you mean to me?”

“I was worried you regretted asking me to
marry you.”

Like a knife to his chest, her
uncertainty almost undoes him, panicking at the realization he almost destroyed
the one thing he needs to live. “Never. Loving you is one of the few things in
my life I’m not sorry about.”

Her lips find his again, and she swirls
her tongue inside his mouth. Ripples of pleasure roll through him from the
intensity of her kiss, her moan melting the tension gripping his muscles. One
touch from this beautiful angel can bring him to his knees, where he should be,
begging for the forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.

Over and over, he plunges into her,
letting her sweet essence heal his torment. To erase the image of her crumpled
on the ground at the vineyard, the thought of Spencer holding her down, his
hand over her mouth. The fear drenching her words as she talked to Marta while
he stood on the steps after searching for her. A rare moment of powerlessness,
with an army of his men scouring the house, unable to interrupt and pull her
away to show her everything she means to him.

Thank God for Marta. If not for her, Shae
probably would have left, and he’d be going crazy, rather than holding her
against him. The intensity of her urgent touch a reminder of what he can lose—she
told Evan yes too, and now she’s in his arms. Her damp hair swishes across his
shoulder as he buries himself deeper inside her. He can’t fuck this up, can’t
wake up a year from now alone, with her in some other man’s bed.

Their hands entwine, and he kisses down
her arm as it lies against the smooth surface of the shower. The hot, moist air
fills with her flowery scent, consuming him with a drunkenness more powerful
than any other addiction. “You never have to doubt my love for you.”

“I don’t. I know how much you love me.”

Her breathless whisper pushes him to the
brink, taking him to the only heaven he’ll ever experience. “And how much I
want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.” Her voice breaks as she cries out
his name, trembling in his arms. His forehead presses against the cool tile as
his body jerks against hers. They belong to each other again.

He caresses her hair as her breathing
calms, her lips pressing tiny kisses against his neck. After a few moments, she
rises from his chest and rubs his cheeks. “I need to take a real shower.”

The perfect opportunity to shut out the
rest of the world for a little bit longer. “Do you want me to wash your back?”

“I would love it.”

She kisses him softly before sliding down
his body, his muscles relaxing at the happiness in her eyes. Her smile never
fades as she pours creamy, purple body wash onto a pouf and hands it to him.
All the uncertainty from earlier is gone. She accepts his apology and welcomes
his love.

As he glides the mesh ball across her
delicate skin, her head droops forward, and he runs his tongue along the curve
of her neck and across her shoulders. “I’ve wanted to do that since the plane.”

“I would’ve liked it, but I’m not sure
what Max and the guys would have thought.”

Enticed by her silky skin, he continues
downward, placing kisses along her spine to the small of her back. She gasps as
his hand slides between her legs, caressing her soft folds, the little nub
throbbing under his fingertips.

She grips his hair and leans against his
shoulder. “You’re supposed to be washing me.”

“It’s hard to make you clean when I have
such dirty thoughts.”

“Then I’d better take over.” She winks
before sliding the loofah out of his hand and rubbing it down her arms and
across her stomach.

Desire flames in every taut nerve as her
soapy fingertips brush across her breasts and trail down her stomach. She
circles over each thigh before he cups his hand over hers, squeezing the mesh
sponge. Unable to resist, he moves their hands between her legs stroking
softly, lather bubbling between their fingers. Her eyes close from his fingers
dipping inside her, teasing the special spot she loves.

A smile crosses her lips as she leans
against him. “You’re doing a terrible job of washing me. I think I’m going to
have to fire you.”

“Give me a second chance. I have other
skills that might make me worth keeping.”

Her bubbly laugh echoes across the tile,
and she shakes her head before pushing his hand away. Leaning across him to
hang her pouf on its hook, her nipples brush his chest, making his breath
hitch. Orchids mix with citrus as she rubs his soap between her hands,
generating a thick lather. Her fingertips trail down his chest and stomach
before moving behind him. Skimming across his shoulders, she massages the
muscles in his neck. Just as he begins to relax under her magical touch, her
hands slide down his torso and grip his length. His body jolts like lightning
at her touch. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you my talents.”

A deep moan radiates from his chest as
her feathery caress turns more urgent. Hand-over-hand, she strokes him from
base to tip and back again. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She runs a fingernail down the wiry vein
of his twitching shaft. “I think I know.”

Loathe to end the ecstasy, he must regain
control. This is his apology to her. Her hands fall away as he turns around.

Hands on hips, she tilts her head and
raises her eyebrows, a playful smirk gracing her pink lips. “Am I not meeting your
needs?”

He shakes his head. “You’re more than
qualified, but I need to take care of you.”

“You always do. Now, it’s my turn.”

Before he can stop her, she presses her
palms against his chest, and he allows himself to be lowered to the teak bench.
Grabbing a towel, she places it on the floor and kneels down in front of him.
Without her even touching him, his body begs for release.