He silenced her protests with another kiss. And another.
“And if that’s the case”—his grip tightened on her ass as he slowly moved one hand up to unzip her dress—“then it seems like I’m finally home.”
Home. He was home. She was his home.
She arched beneath him as he tugged the dress down to her waist and then lifted her up only long enough to take off the rest of her clothes and lay her across the table.
“Home,” she repeated, reaching blindly for him as she heard the sound of another zipper, more clothes flying everywhere, and then warmth, so much warmth.
Heat.
His chest against hers.
His breath fanning her neck as his tongue slid across her lips, teasing her tongue. Brant’s teeth nibbled her ears as he poised at her entrance. She felt his throbbing heat.
And she wanted every inch of him.
With an all-consuming kiss that left her gasping for air, he rose over her and slid into her—stripping away any restraint she thought she had, and making her insane for him.
Only him.
It had only ever been Brant.
Chapter Thirty
He moved inside her, he took his time kissing her, and when the sensations of her heat surrounding him, clinging to him, nearly pushed him over the edge, he stopped and focused on her all over again.
Nikki gasped as a sea of pleasure built between them. He plucked kiss after kiss from her mouth like he was picking berries, then sucked her juice between his lips, addicted to the way she tasted more than any alcohol, any drug.
Her body tightened around him, her legs wrapped up in his, their bodies as close as physically possible. She flew apart seconds later, and when he followed, he watched her face, the wonder, the love, the sheer perfection of her lips as her head fell back in surrender.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered.
“We’re still married.”
“God, I hope so,” he whispered. “Now, focus on us, this, here, right now.” He kissed her again. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief, then pulled away from her and helped her to her feet. “I’m pretty sure the last Thanksgiving we spent together included shower sex. In fact, I’m positive.”
“Are you?” She grinned. “I’m pretty sure table sex trumps shower sex.”
“How would you really know if you can’t compare the two? That sounds pretty unfair.”
“And you’re all about being fair.”
“I would hate to hurt the shower’s feelings.”
“Oh, so now you’re worried about the shower.”
“Nik, I’m just trying to be selfless here.”
She laughed and grabbed his hand. “Eight steps past the kitchen, three steps into the bedroom, and two steps to your right.”
Guilt damn near crushed him as he followed her through the small apartment. She should be living in the penthouse; she should at the very least have a roommate, someone to help her.
Four years. Four years she’d lived like this. And for what? His pain? His pride? His inability to forgive himself? To forgive her for the hurtful and justified words she had thrown at him?
He flicked on the light to the bathroom and froze as she started feeling around to turn the shower on.
A picture of her and Cole sat on the counter. He was hugging her, looking directly into the camera, and she was looking away.
It haunted him long after they showered and went for round two. It haunted him when he tucked Nikki into his body and told her to have good dreams. It haunted him hours later when he went in search of food while Nikki got ready for work.
And when he was sitting at the hotel an hour later in the lobby, he was still haunted.
“What?” Cole waved a hand in front of his face. “You know, for someone who just got laid, you don’t look very happy.”
“I left her money,” Brant admitted. “She never got it.”
“No shit. I’ve seen her apartment, helped her paint the walls and everything.”
Suddenly it was too much. He’d left her. And Cole had been there the entire time.
He felt sick, so sick he wasn’t sure he could even have the business meeting he’d planned while Nikki took care of her next two clients.
“Brant?” Something in Cole’s voice changed. “Are you okay?”
Brant nodded.
Cole waved over one of the waiters and ordered lunch while Brant stared into his coffee cup.
“This isn’t about the money, is it?”
“We lost our child,” Brant blurted. “To go through that at any point in your life is unimaginable. To follow it up with a fire that nearly kills your wife—only to find out you’re the reason it started. To take someone’s sight a day after you held her while she cried herself to sleep.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain that type of pain, or how desperate it makes a person to want to make it all go away.”