Page 27 of Service Included

The fingers that had been inside her body moments before trailed across her stomach. She felt the dampness they left on her skin and shuddered with the aftermath.

“Full service, as promised.” The laughter underlying his murmured words vibrated against her clavicle. When his fingers reached her nipples, which were dark and swollen, the smutty sexiness of watching him toy with the points extended the pulsing between her legs. Even the light touch he gave her, gentle as the brush of fabric, made her shiver.

He helped her reposition herself to a stable seated position, then straightened. “Any more requests?” He smiled, indicating that he meant to joke, but his eyes slid away from hers sooner than she’d expected.

“Ah…” She didn’t want to whoop her satisfaction into Nico’s ear, so she dropped her gaze. The ridge in his jeans showed that he hadn’t come. She reached for it, wanting to feel the strength of his arousal. She could—

He intercepted her hand. “Later.” He shook his head. “If you want to. No pressure.” He guided her hips into a natural seated position and then eased away from the shelf unit. “That was great,” his voice cracked. “Even if that’s all.” He looked like heknew he was speaking too quickly, but he didn’t know how to stop. “I’m sorry—I’m—”

He turned his back toward her, raising his hands to cover his face. She watched him shudder.

“I’m sorry—” he started again.

She heard him gulp air, the hoarse sound filling the still room as her confusion mounted. “It’s okay.” That seemed inadequate. “I’m okay.” The implication that he wasn’t hovered in the air between them.

“Yeah. Me too. It’s just—” He broke off. “I’m still so fucked up.”

“Really, it’s okay. Whatever it is.” She was as much at a loss for words as he was, although the conversation he’d had with Tyler gave her the idea that a woman named Chloe was deep in Nico’s head.

“I thought I could—” She suspected he was scrubbing at his face. “Then I remembered—” By now, his shoulders were hunched high up around his neck, and his spine curved. “I’m okay.”

He so obviously wasn’t, but she had no idea what would ease his turmoil. All she could do was reach out to rest her fingertips on his shuddering back.

“Nico.” She willed him to turn around to see that she was fine, that maybe a twenty-year-old wouldn’t have understood that whatever burdened him wasn’t a personal rejection, but thirty-five-year-old Megan had the experience to know that a guy falling apart when a woman tried to touch his erection was about something way outside the here and now. “It’s fine.”

He turned. With one hand raised to half cover his eyes and forehead and the other pressed against his stomach, he looked older. “Look, I—I want to, but—” He uncovered his face and gestured vaguely in her direction. Tears glistened on his eyelashes. “It’s been…”

She held out a hand. She didn’t need any assistance to drop the six inches to the floor, but asking might change the topic for him. “Help me down.”

A look of relief, either because she’d diverted the conversation or perhaps a result of having an action to take, eased a few of the grooves bracketing his mouth and eyes.

She’d intended to merely use his hand, but he wrapped his hands around her waist and she knew to put her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her. When her feet settled on the floor, he closed his eyes, but didn’t let go of her waist. She watched his face. His lips parted. She thought he was going to speak again.

“Shhh.” She laid a finger across his lips. “It really is okay. Whatever you need, whatever you want or don’t want, I’m not worried or upset.”

He nodded silently, his lips rubbing slightly up and down her finger. “Later. Maybe we can—” Opened, his eyes were dark pools so close to overflowing that someplace under her ribs hurt from witnessing his pain. “Try again.”

“If you want to, I’d like that. Only if you want to.”

“Okay.” His smile was wavery, but she felt a connection between them.

“Yes.” She returned his smile. “Okay.”

Chapter 7

The possibility of Nico

A Request from Pamela in Philadelphia

Dear Editor,

I’ve been very bad, and I need advice on how to stop.

Nobody in these magazinesever seemed to genuinely want to stop, a weakness that Megan admitted had spread to her, because it was four o’clock in the afternoon and the energy flash that had powered her to breeze through the remaining closets and load a few things in her car had ended, not unpredictably, at a certain trio of boxes in the garage. Without thinking too muchabout the decision, she had slapped sticky notes with her name on each box. They’d fit somewhere in her Seattle garage.

This time, she had no fear of discovery when she selected an issue. Rather, the possibility of Nico finding her danced intriguingly across her skin. She could almost hear his voice asking her what she was reading. If she didn’t hide the magazine—maybe especially if she did—he might stand behind her to glance over her shoulder. He’d see that she’d paused where someone had dog-eared a full-page photo of a woman, arms raised above her head while two sets of hands alternated to cover her bare breasts.

Megan closed her eyes, using the dark to drop deeper into the what-if that had begun to weaken her knees and soften her bones. Nico would see the photo, the Nico who was flirty and brought her cherries, not the Nico with the unexplainable sadness. He would breathe on the back of her neck and ask if that was what she wanted. As soon as she said yes, and she would, she definitely would, his arms would circle her body. Her shirt and bra would disappear, fantasy-style without awkward contortions, and his hands would cover her breasts. Like in the photo.

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