Page 2 of The Question of Us
With Shelby out of the way, Nick fell onto his back, exposing his chest and a tightly muscled thigh with the barest glimpse of a soft cock poking out from under the top sheet. The sight of him spread out in my bed like a wet dream made me shiver. A spiderweb of lines marked the corners of his wicked mouth, his soft lips parted, slack in sleep, and ringed by a thick stubble that I itched to feel against my palm.
Silver-tipped hair ran thickly over his pecs and down his stomach. The grizzled thatch disappeared under the sheet only to reappear over those mouthwatering thighs, the grey glinting almost gold in the early morning sun that striped the bed. No grooming tool had been anywhere near that body in decades, and I was more than good with that.
I swallowed a shaky sigh because, damn, the man was fine.
My gaze lingered over the tattooed owl atop his heart—his mother’s favourite bird. A mother who’d left Nick with his arsehole father when Nick was barely eight. Too young to understand the complexities of her decision.
Nick breathed deeply but his grey eyes remained closed, his breathing even. It was the most relaxed I’d seen him in a long time. For a moment, he was no longer the bullheaded, sexy fifty-something man I was falling for. Instead, I caught a glimpse of a vulnerable child beneath the gruff façade. A boy whose world had changed forever the day his mother left and whose belief in the possibility of love had taken decades to recover. In that we were also similar, except my cynicism had been born from a parade of men confirming my belief that I wasn’t an exciting enough option.
“You’re starting to creep me out.” Nick opened his eyes and tugged the sheet over his thigh.
I sighed unhappily as his dick disappeared. “Now you’re just being mean.”
He circled a finger, indicating the sleep shorts I’d pulled on to make coffee. “I could say the same.” He grinned and patted the mattress beside him. “Come here. I’m hoping that second coffee is for me.”
I shrugged and wandered over. “You or my other boyfriend I have stashed in the bedroom down the hall.”
He threw me a side-eye before scooting over and shoving another pillow behind his back. “Seems as good a time as any to make it clear that I don’t share.”
I sat on the mattress and tried not to preen. His words felt good to my heart. “Good. Neither do I.” I held out the coffee. “It’s probably cold by now.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He took the cup from my hands and drank greedily, finishing with a satisfied smack of his lips. “Thank you.” He reached out and lightly touched the red scar on my shoulder where a bullet had grazed my flesh three weeks before. “Does it still hurt?”
I shrugged. “Only when I laugh.”
He rolled his eyes. “Seriously.”
I sighed. “Seriously, it’s getting better every day.”
“Good. And your hearing?” he pressed.
Without realising I was doing it, I reached for the ear that had been pistol-whipped three weeks before. “It’s coming right. I still get a bit of ringing on occasion and it aches a bit at night, but it’s getting there. At least the headaches from the concussion are gone.” I kissed him softly, hoping to distract him from any more questions. I was recovering well, but Nick continued to worry needlessly. When he leaned into the kiss and didn’t pull away, something hopeful bloomed in my chest. But all good things eventually came to an end.
“How about you?” I sat back and took him by the chin, turning his head to inspect the remnants of his injuries. Theimpressive bruising had faded. “The colour is almost back to normal.”
“My jaw’s not the problem.” Nick’s hand strayed to the back of his head where he’d been hit from behind. “It’s these damn headaches. They disappear for a couple of days, but then they’re back. It’s getting better though.”
“The doctor warned it would take some time to recover from the concussion,” I reminded him, rolling him over to better see the healed suture line. “As long as they’re not getting worse. It’s looking good even if my pillowslips have taken a beating in the process.”
Nick grimaced at the old blood spots showing on the white cotton even after washing. “Sorry.”
I cupped his cheek. “I’m kidding. They’re old. I’ll chuck them soon.”
Nick set his coffee cup on the bedside table and then took mine and sat it alongside. He studied me for a minute, then slid a hand around my neck. “You are so fucking beautiful.” He drew me in for a lingering kiss, so raw and unexpected that my heart tumbled in my chest.
Yes, we’d made out, but it had been mostly in the dark, in that quiet bubble we inhabited between the sheets with all its rules. But Nick rarely kissed me so deliberately in broad daylight and with such intent and obvious pleasure. I hungered for those moments like a starving man and opened immediately like I was primed for his touch, his tongue finding its languorous way between my lips to tangle with my own—slow, delicious, and achingly tender.
When he’d tasted his fill, he gently pulled away and looked me in the eye. “The very best start to the morning.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
We held each other’s gaze, all those questions in my own head reflected in Nick’s stormy eyes. The air crackled, tensionspilling into the room, bouncing off the walls and thickening around us like it was trying to squeeze a response from our choked hearts.
I reached up and ran a fingertip over Nick’s lips. “I want you.” I leaned closer and pressed a kiss in place. “You know that.”
Nick cradled my head, his fingers threading through my hair as he kissed his way across my cheek. “I want you too.” His lips brushed my ear, his hot breath making me shiver, sending tendrils of fire licking at my balls. “I want you so fucking much I can hardly breathe from thinking about it.” He leaned back to stare at me. “You have to know that too.”
When I hesitated, he frowned. “Oh, come on. Really?” He sat back and studied my face. “I’ve been sporting a semi almost non-stop for three weeks. It’s becoming an issue.”
