Beth Cornelison – The Reunion Mission (страница 8)
Even when she wrapped her legs around him and arched her back, he waited.
“Say my name.” His tone held no humor, and his eyes shone with a hunger and passion that stirred a tremor deep in her core. He brushed a kiss across her lips and nuzzled her cheek. “I want to hear my name on your lips when I’m inside you.”
The sensual rasp of his voice stroked her, wound her anticipation tighter, while the poignant intimacy of his request seized her heart. She threaded her fingers through his hair and raised her lips to his ear. “Daniel. Daniel LeCroix …”
Nicole whispered his name, rolling the
A sexy gasp caught in her throat, and she moaned as he filled her. Her body gripped his, and a protectiveness, an overwhelming need to possess her, drove him to hold her closer, thrust deeper, take her higher. When they’d made love the first time, he’d thought he could get his fill of her and satisfy the fascination with her that had begun on her prom night years ago. Instead he found the more they made love, the more he wanted her and the more he lost his heart to her.
With a mewling cry, Nicole bowed her back and shuddered as she peaked. “Daniel!”
The first pulse of her body milking him shattered his restraint, and primal noises rumbled from his throat as he followed her into a mind-numbing climax.
When the maelstrom passed and the sensual haze began to lift, he knew he was in trouble. His caring this much about her gave Nicole power over him. Rather than getting her out of his head, she’d found a way past his defenses and into his heart.
He tried to move away from her, needing distance to clear his head, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her body against his. “Hold me, Daniel. Please, hold me.”
And he did. Until they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. Until the first light of morning peeked through the gap in the curtains and prodded him awake.
Until her cell phone chimed on the dresser, and she rolled out of bed to answer it.
He flopped onto his back and watched her through his eyelashes as she, in all her naked glory, stumbled groggily across the room. The sight of her smooth skin and sultry curves sent a fresh rush of desire thundering through him.
Nicole plucked her cell phone from the dresser and checked the screen. Her shoulders sagged, and she groaned before she thumbed the answer button. “Hi, Dad.”
Daniel tensed.
“Yes, I was still asleep. Why?” She gasped, and her back stiffened. “Oh, no. I completely forgot. I’m so sorry.” She sent a quick glance to their bed and winced. “Yeah, I know how important it is to you.”
He propped on one elbow, watching her, and she mouthed,
Disappointment plucked at him. He’d hoped they could at least share breakfast before they parted ways.
He heard her turn on the shower and flopped back against the pillow with a sigh. Tossing back the covers, he climbed out of bed and strolled to the door of the bathroom to ask her if she wanted him to order room service. But the door was locked.
Frowning, he raised his hand to knock.
“Yes, I did spend the night with that guy from the bayou,” she said, her voice haughty, her tone dripping disdain. “In fact, I had sex with him. Many times.”
The taunting tone of her voice sent a chill through him. He lowered his hand and listened with his heart in his throat.
“I’m perfectly clear on your feelings about him,” she scoffed, and he heard a thump. “Maybe that’s the point.”
A sinking sensation knotted in his chest as he saw last night through a new lens. The smug grin she’d given her father when she’d introduced him as her date for the rest of the night. Her repeated use of the Boudreaux moniker. The dark suspicious looks her father had given him.
His sense of being caught in the middle of a family feud had been more on target than he’d realized.
“Because I could, Dad. I can sleep with a Cajun or a frat boy or the whole naval fleet if I feel like it. I’m not a little girl anymore. You can’t dictate my life.”
Daniel staggered back a step from the door as if pushed, as if kicked in the gut. Blindsided. Sucker punched. Deceived.
Had last night been nothing but a rebellion against her father? A walk on the wrong side of the tracks so she could flout her father’s ideals?
“Who says there’ll be a next time?” she said. “Maybe I’m ready to go back to Houston and finish my nursing degree! It’s exactly what Mom would have wanted!”
As her argument with her father grew more heated, Daniel raked a hand through his hair and battled down the bitter hurt and anger that roiled inside him.
She’d used him. She’d seen an opportunity to hook a man her father saw as unworthy and dangle her tryst in the senator’s face. A sharp ache of betrayal raked through his chest, and he snatched his pants and dress jacket from the closet.
Nicole’s voice became a muted drone as he dressed and put on his shoes. By the time he gathered his hat and cell phone from the nightstand, a sour disgust, with himself and with Nicole’s betrayal, had risen like bile in his throat.
The shower was the only sound from the bathroom when he gave the room one last glance for anything he’d missed. The rumpled bed served a vivid reminder of what had transpired the night before. He might have been making love to Nicole, but he’d gotten screwed.
Nicole sat on the floor of the shower, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. She had to pull herself together, couldn’t let Daniel see how deeply her father’s attitude hurt her. Somewhere during the night, making love to Daniel, she’d realized the only way to get her life back under control was to make a clean break from her father. She couldn’t be the daughter he wanted her to be, and trying was suffocating her.
Losing her father, so soon after losing her mom, made it all the harder to break free. But if she needed any reminder how differently they viewed the world, it had been obvious when her father had referred to Daniel in such derogatory terms. She’d thrown the words back in his face, hoping her father would hear how elitist he sounded, but Alan White couldn’t see what she saw him becoming. And it broke her heart.
Shutting of the water, Nicole dragged herself from the shower and dried off, deciding how much to tell Daniel about the argument he had to have overheard. The truth, of course, but how much of the truth? She was still grappling with the truth herself.
Finally, pulling on the plush robe the hotel provided, she headed back out to the room to face her future. And found no one there.
Daniel woke slowly, keeping still, using all of his senses to test his surroundings for possible threats before opening his eyes. He’d been trained to assess every new situation carefully, especially if he was at a strategic disadvantage. Which he was, based on the throbbing ache in his knee and no memory past struggling to the chopper amid gunfire.
The beep of electronics and the murmur of distant voices, too muted for him to distinguish what language they were speaking, met his ears. He lay flat on a soft surface and had covers over him. A bed. His knee hurt like the devil, and he had tubes and needles poking him. His head felt a little muzzy, likely from some kind of painkiller, but he began to build a picture. He could smell antiseptic and … roasted chicken? His stomach growled.
So he was in a hospital room. But where?
And someone held his hand. That fact made his pulse trip. Who—?
He cracked his eyes open, peeking out through his eyelashes, careful not to alert his company to his waking … just in case.
Nicole sat in a wheelchair beside his bed, her head lolling to the side, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. Asleep. She wore a blue hospital gown and an IV bag, hanging from a pole attached to her wheelchair, was hooked up to her right hand. As when he’d found her asleep at the prison camp, he was struck by how beautiful she looked, despite the circumstances. And how vulnerable.
On the heels of that thought, he flashed to the jungle. To Nicole pushing herself to keep up despite her obvious exhaustion. To her feisty determination not to leave him behind when he was shot. To her stubborn protectiveness over the little girl.
No. Nicole White might look vulnerable, but a tenacious streak ran through her.
He angled his gaze to their joined hands, determined not to read anything into her presence in his room. Hands he remembered as delicately feminine and soft were now chapped and showed the wear of harsh living conditions. Her once well-manicured fingernails were short and ragged, her skin marred by cuts and bruises. The physical reminders of her ordeal caused a twisting sensation deep in his chest.