She moved her hips against him as pleasure ricocheted down her body. Reckless. She felt reckless in his arms. Beautiful. Wanted.
She didn’t need her eyes to see his beauty—she felt it in the way he loved her, in the way he touched her. His hands ran down her body with reverence, and his mouth slowly drank her in like he wanted to take his time. His tongue dipped into her mouth as he thrust inside her, filling her all the way and making her body tremble as he throbbed inside her. His tongue skimmed her lips as he withdrew and slid home again.
Home.
Home.
He was her home.
Longing for him, for what they’d had, hit her so hard it stole her breath away. Him, she just wanted him. He moved his mouth across her breasts, sucking, kissing, moving against her, destroying her for any other man, any other future.
When he surged forward again, her hips bucked beneath the pressure as a sharp cry escaped her lips. “I love you.”
“I never stopped”—his lips dipped to hers again—“loving you, Nik.”
“Is it enough?” She didn’t mean to ask it aloud, didn’t mean to shatter the moment, but he kept moving, kept kissing, kept loving her.
When she felt him tense, when her body couldn’t take any more, he whispered, “It has to be, now let go.”
“I can’t.” Tears filled her eyes. “That means our last date is over. It means facing an unknown. I can’t.”
Brant cupped her cheeks, kissing her tears, slowing his movements, deepening his thrusts. “You can. You will.”
“Stay with me,” she begged.
“I might have walked away, Nik.” He pressed a hand to her heart. “But I never left.”
She cried out as the tension built and then exploded around them. Tremors wracked her body as he kept kissing her cheeks, her tears, and then, finally her mouth.
Please, God, don’t let this be the end.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Brant woke up to his cell vibrating near his ear. With a grunt, he grabbed for it five, six times before finally swiping the right way and answering. “What?”
“You forgot to set your alarm.”
He bolted out of bed. “Shit!”
“Relax.” Bentley yawned loudly on the other end. “Brock and I took care of the details, the girls helped, and I think we’re all on track. Damn, you’re lucky to have us.”
Brant sighed in relief and glanced down at a sleeping Nik. “Thanks, man. I’ll be down as fast as I can. Will you do me a favor and grab my suitcase?”
“Sure thing.”
“See you in a few.”
“Yup.”
Brant threw on his clothes, barely remembered to brush his teeth, grabbed his wallet and everything else he needed, and then went over to the bed and brushed a kiss across Nikki’s forehead. “I’ll always love you. Never forget that.”
He left as quietly as he could. The minute the elevator doors closed, he grinned and then felt like throwing up.
It was time.
Yeah, throwing up was probably on the to-do list for the day.
* * *
He left.
She heard the tail end of his conversation. Get his suitcase? Was he in that much of a hurry that he couldn’t even grab his own stuff? Rejection made her so numb she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or just have a good cry and then rip the pillows to shreds.
He left. Again.
She could probably manage to get dressed on her own—there was a reason she liked wearing black; it always matched—but the point was, she thought he’d wake up slowly, offer her breakfast, and then they’d have the talk, decide how they were going to move forward, if they were going to move forward. Not this.
Emptiness.
A knock sounded at the door.
She nearly fell out of the bed.
The knock got louder.
It was followed by a series of hushed voices, two more knocks, and then finally, “Open the hell up!”
She jumped out of bed and wrapped the sheet around her body, feeling the walls as she made her way to the door and pulled it open.
“Bastard refused to give us the keys to this part of the suite!” Nadine said in her loud shrill. “I mean, doesn’t he trust us at all?”
“No?” Sarcasm dripped from Jane’s voice. “I wonder why.”
“Aw, just look at you.” Nadine sighed. “All rosy cheeked and exhausted from last night’s sexual encounter. Oh, honey, you sit down and tell me all about it. Those Wellington men can be quite the stallions in the bedroom.”
Nikki’s smile felt hollow, sad. She didn’t want to talk about Brant. About the sex. About the sorrow of waking up this morning and finding him gone.
“Are you here for his suitcase?” She tried to keep her voice even, her body from slumping, her hopes from shattering on the ground in front of them.