Page 42 of Heartless

He moved tenderly down her neck, stopping for an occasional lashing of his tongue at an ultrasensitive spot. He knew her body better than she did. Everything within her surrendered as she gave herself over to his touch, his desire. This man was the love of her life. She didn’t think about the past or what lay in their future. For over two years, her body, heart, and soul had yearned for this. She had fantasized and dreamed of this moment, creating hundreds of scenarios in her head, which always resulted in an aching, unsatisfied emptiness, longing for the man she never believed she’d see again. She wasn’t about to waste a second on regret or hurt.

Nic’s mouth traveled down to her chest, paying homage to each breast, licking and sucking around each areola before moving down her midriff. He swirled his tongue into her navel, and she raised her hips, showing him exactly where she wanted him to go. As soon as his mouth covered her center, she exploded around him, crying out his name.

Barely cognizant of anything other than the ecstasy of her release, she vaguely registered that he pulled something from the drawer beside the bed. When she heard a tearing sound, she knew he was slipping on a condom.

Throbbing with the need to be filled, she writhed on the bed, and groaned softly, “Nic…please.”

“I’m right here, Livvy.”

He thrust deep inside, and she cried out. Wanting, longing to hold him, she released the headboard to touch him. Before she could reach him, his hands wrapped around her wrists again and held them as he moved inside her. She was so lost in him, in the passion, the soaring desire, she didn’t question anything other than the next wave of pleasure that tossed her up and over and into velvet, blessed oblivion.

When his release came, he stiffened and groaned out her name as if he were in agony. His breathing heavy, he stayed inside her for a long while as if he didn’t want to let her go. Aching to hold him, she tried to move her hands from his grip again. He withdrew and dropped down beside her. Pulling her into his arms, he whispered softly, “Sleep, my love.”

And she did.

* * *

Hawke dressed for power. Designer suit, designer shoes, designer tie. He was slightly amused that Rose had even included designer briefs. He hadn’t had a haircut in a couple months, so his dark, brown hair was a little shabby, but he’d shaved his beard, leaving only slight stubble, which helped a little. Besides, Livvy had told him one time that he looked good in scruff.

Livvy. What had happened a couple hours ago had been the culmination of a thousand and one dreams and fantasies. He had made love to his wife many times, and each time had been sexy and delicious. But this last time… He could not begin to describe how special it had been. He had missed her so much. The intimacy and softness, her sweet warmth and honest passion. There was no one like Livvy, and there never would be.

He looked over his shoulder at the still figure on the bed. She had fallen asleep in his arms, like she had so many times before. They’d loved each other until they were breathless. It hadn’t been a long sleep, more like a nap than anything, but it had been the best sleep he’d had in over two years, and he was willing to bet it had been the best she’d had in a while, too.

She stirred slightly, and he walked over to her. He noted her color was better, and the tension around her mouth had lessened.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as she opened her eyes and began to remember what happened. “Nic,” she whispered.

“Good afternoon.”

He leaned over and kissed her softly. Right now, they were still Nic and Livvy. When they left this bedroom, it would be different. He was under no illusion that their problems were over. No matter how passionate it had been, the past could not be erased. But for right now, he would take this.

“We’re due to land in about twenty minutes.”

“I need to shower.”

He stood and gestured toward the bathroom. “There’s plenty of hot water. I left a makeup bag on the counter, and your dress is hanging in the closet.” He headed toward the door. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

“Wait. My dress?”

He closed the door without answering. She would understand once she saw the dress.

After responding to a couple of texts and making a call to the holding facility with specific instructions for their visit, he returned to the bedroom, coffee in hand.

Olivia was just coming out of the bathroom. She was wearing the dress he’d set out for her, and she had made good use of the makeup. Only if someone were extremely close would they be able to make out the healing bruises on her cheek and chin. Her skin looked as flawless as ever. She looked healthy and vital. Beautiful.

He had described what was needed, and once again, Rose had come through spectacularly. The dress was ultrafeminine and floaty—if that was even a word. The light blue color turned her eyes to turquoise, and the just slightly modest neckline showed more of that English rose skin. The hem fell to an inch above her knee, showing off her spectacular legs. The heels were two inches. Livvy didn’t need extra height, and any more would look out of place. She wore a delicate pearl and diamond necklace, which looked lovely against her soft, pale skin, and the classic diamond studs in her ears were the perfect accompaniment. She looked exactly how he wanted—the exact opposite of what Iris Gates had tried to create.

She had put her hair up in an intricate twist, and while he considered it sexy as hell, that wasn’t the look required for this visit.

“Take your hair down.”

“Why?”

“She needs to see you with your hair down.”

“What do you mean?”

“She needs to see she failed.”

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