Page 39 of Take Me Tender

His thumb stroked across her cheek and a corner of his mouth hitched higher. “But I like your pocket, Nikki.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “It’s so pink and pretty and wet and once I work myself inside it grips me like a hot, greedy little fist.”

Oh, God. Her spine melted and she felt liquid heat rush to the very place that he was talking about. That’s what she got for getting involved with a man who used words for a living. He was so good at using them on her. She licked her lips, trying to stay strong. “Now, Jay…”

He wiped the moisture off her lower lip with that maddening thumb, as the gleam in his eyes turned crafty. “Stay for Fern, then. I don’t like leaving her alone at night.”

Oh, he knew so well how to get to her. Since her breakup with Jenner, the girl had stuck closer to home yet stayed so quiet that it wasn’t easy not to worry about it. Even for Nikki, with her keep-your-distance DNA.

She sighed. “Well, I’ve been meaning to work on the menu for the anniversary party.”

“Fern could help you with that. She should. It’s for her folks, too.”

When Nikki had agreed to take this position, the big event at the end of the month to celebrate the anniversary of the double wedding of Jay’s parents and that of his aunt and uncle had seemed like a perfect opportunity to make useful contacts. She’d known she’d need them to make a go of this new solo career. But she hadn’t been thinking, lately, of any of that.

Maybe because her knee was so much better, despite last week’s tweak in the sand. She was even beginning to believe she could safely tap into her emergency surgery fund if she found herself between positions.

But for now there was this position, and this golden man with his sexy body and coercive hands, who was so near-impossible to refuse. “Please, cookie.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Later I’ll show you how grateful I can be.”

Her body throbbed at the low, seductive promise in his voice. “All right. I’ll be here when you get back,” she said, throwing familiarity and security to the wind. Though this ongoing involvement with Jay had taken her outside her comfort zone, she was managing.

“You’ll be able to reach me on my cell,” he said. “Anytime.”

Nikki frowned at him, disliking such assurances. “Oh, get over yourself. Anything that comes up, I can handle on my lonesome.”

Except that the house seemed too quiet without Jay, she admitted as the dusk settled over the beach outside. Refusing to clock-watch, Nikki sat on the living room couch and doodled on a note pad while Fern flipped through a magazine.

The girl’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from the front pocket of her hoodie, checked the readout, then thumbed the side button that cut off the ring. Two minutes later, the phone sounded again. Two seconds after that, Fern turned off her phone altogether and shoved it under a cushion.

Nikki stared. Severing the ties of teenage communication was a drastic mea sure, if her brief experience in Fern’s proximity was anything to go by. The tight expression on the girl’s face told the same story.

But Nikki wasn’t getting involved. Fern wasn’t her relative, and anyway, when it came to forging bonds of feminine sisterhood, Nikki was out of her element there, too. Fern could keep her confidences.

Leaning forward, she dropped her note pad on the coffee table and picked up her knitting. Her no-set-purpose piece was growing longer, and though she still had no idea why she continued with it, the repetitive action soothed her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Fern retrieve her phone and power it on again. In seconds it rang, and in seconds Fern had reperformed the whole shut-it-down-and-shove-it-away routine.

Nikki opened her mouth, shut her mouth, opened it again. A white flag waved in her mind. Fine, she’d pry a little. “Someone’s sure intent upon reaching you.”

Fern stared at the glossy pages on her lap. Then she blew out a sigh. “It’s—”

The glass on the back door rattled, startling them both. Nikki’s head whipped toward the sound, and her heartbeat spiked. A figure in dark pants and a dark sweatshirt stood on the back deck, faceless in the dusk.

Instinctive fear rose from that burial plot in the back of her mind, but she stood up to it, putting her hand out to Fern as she got to her feet. “Stay right there.”

But the teenager was already moving, her magazine sliding off her knees and to the floor as she rose. “It’s Jenner. That’s who’s been calling my cell.”

Identifying the threat didn’t calm Nikki’s jangling nerves. “You don’t have to talk to him,” she said quickly. “You didn’t answer his phone calls.”

“I was being stupid. I’m not going to let him believe I’m running away from him.”

Never let them think you’re weak, Nikki’s inner voice agreed. But as Fern brushed past her she had to fold her fingers into fists instead of reacting to the strong urge to latch on to the girl’s hood and hold her back. Though she’d told Jay she could handle whatever came up tonight, this was none of her business. This was not her concern.

Still, she followed Fern to the doorway and stood there as the girl eased open the glass.

“I need to talk to you,” the boy said, his voice harsh. He held up his cell phone. “You’re not picking up.”

Nikki’s stomach shrank in on itself, shying away from Jenner’s angry tone.

“I’m answering now,” Fern said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What do you want?”

The boy’s gaze flicked toward Nikki. “To be alone. Let’s go up to your room.”

Fern seemed to sway back, but then she held steady. “Outside.”

His tone turned cajoling. “Fern,” he said, his hand reaching across the threshold to slide around her neck.

She ducked away from his touch and pushed past him onto the deck. From there she took the steps leading to the beach. Nikki hurried toward the open slider, but Jenner slammed it in her face and strode after Fern.

The barrier of glass reminded Nikki of her place—on the outside of whatever was going on with Fern and Jenner. But she didn’t move away from her front-row seat. As the dusk darkened, her gaze stayed glued to their forms.

It was like a silent motion picture, and she didn’t need text breaks to read the story. His entreaty. Her refusal. His more passionate plea and her more emphatic shake of her head. He opened his mouth again, but she turned toward the house and took a step.

His hand closed around the girl’s upper arm.

Nikki’s fingers shot to the door handle.

Fern shook away the touch, then trudged through the sand.

Halfway back to the house, he caught up with her, grabbing her elbow. Then he spun her around and shook her. Hard.

One moment Nikki was inside Jay’s, still feeling unsure and out of her element. The next she was barefoot on the sand, racing toward the couple.

“Let her go!” She startled a seagull that had been roosting on the beach, and it rose up with a raucous cry, wings flapping. She came to a stop near the teenagers. “I said, let her go.”

Jenner jerked his gaze toward Nikki. “Get lost.”

Fern yanked on her arm. “Jenner, leave me alone.”

He shook her again, his expression fierce. “Not until you listen. Not until I have my say. You owe it to me.”

You can’t leave now.

You can’t leave me like this.

Give it to me, baby.

You owe it to me, baby.

Nikki’s skin iced over as those old words echoed in her mind. A sick dread shot through her blood and she thought her muscles might be frozen, too, but they were working, moving, taking her through the thick sand. She grabbed Jenner’s hard forearm. “Let go of Fern.”

His gaze didn’t leave the girl’s face as his free hand lifted. With the flat of his palm, he gave Nikki’s shoulder a brutal shove. She stumbled back, then fell on her butt, her knee twisting as she hit the sand.

The hard fall disturbed the past she tried so hard to keep buried. It crawled into the open again, dirt clinging to its ugly form. She looked up at the boy and he morphed into a different one. Nikki was young again, and the looming figure was older, stronger, selfish. His needs first, her needs less.

Nikki less.

She felt again the nauseating pain in her knee that had robbed her breath and then recalled those hands, their touch no longer coaxing and familiar but drunken and mean. Her clothes shoved aside, his fly opened. Him pushing inside of her, while she lay paralyzed by shock and hurt, the booze she’d swallowed earlier not enough to dull her awareness of what was happening. When she’d opened her mouth, he’d clapped his hard palm over it.

Sick with shame, sick with fright, sick with the revelation that her neediness for love had opened her to this risk, she’d swallowed her screams.

But not now, she thought, dragging herself back to the present. It was different now. She was different. Now she wasn’t paralyzed. Now she wasn’t voiceless. She couldn’t be, not with Fern in danger.

Funny and sad, she realized in a flash, that this, this was her element.

Nikki sprang to her feet like she should have done twelve years before instead of staying low and small as she had then. She’d felt so afraid and alone, but now she wasn’t either of those. “No!” she yelled, louder than the high-pitched whine of anxiety in her ears. “No!”

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