Don't Say No Read online

  His hands trembled as he searched for the hem of her dress. Long fingers scoured her thighs setting her skin on fire and igniting her even more. He shoved the fabric upwards until finally he had it to her waist. The cool night air brushed against her lower body as he pressed on her ass to bring her down.

  “Aah,” they both moaned when she finally straddled his lap.

  Though his jeans and her panties were between them, being so close to that hard evidence of his desire sent her body spiraling. She reacted helplessly, grinding her pussy hard against his clothed dick.

  Her lips parting in pleasure, she opened her eyes to find him staring right back at her. His lips were set in a straight line and his jaw locked tight in a harsh expression of lust. The dark look in his eyes alone sent a sharp jolt of need through her. She whimpered, “Nic.”

  Knowing just what she needed, he slanted his lips over hers in an impossibly deep kiss as he kneaded her buttocks. His mouth seduced her to fever pitch. Those strong hands molded over her flesh forcing her to ride him harder. Even over their clothes, the sensations were intense, fiery – a harsh reminder of how easily he could turn her on.

  And an even harsher reminder of how he easily he could hurt her too.

  It was this realization that shoved Melanie back into the reality of the situation and gave her the strength to tear her mouth from his. “Nic, stop. Stop. Stop.”

  The kiss stopped but Nic didn’t immediately release her. Desire and passion still shadowed his gaze as he stared at her, almost mesmerizing her back for another kiss. She shoved her arms between them and pushed at his chest. “Nicolás, stop.”

  This time she got what she wanted. His arms fell away from her. She didn’t miss the regret in his eyes as he let her go, but ignoring it, she scrambled off his lap. She avoided his eyes as she straightened her dress back over her thighs but she could feel the heat of his gaze on her. It seared at the fiery sensations that still warmed her blood, fanning them. She needed to get away before she jumped his bones.

  “Umm.” She scrambled to gather her thoughts into some form of cohesiveness. “I left you some dinner in the kitchen. I’m just going to get it.” She didn’t even wait for his yay or nay before she scurried out of the room like a scared rabbit.

  What was that? She pressed her back to the kitchen door and took in deep gulps of air in a bid to gather herself. Her harsh breaths echoed in the empty room in cadence to the quick beat of her pulse. What was that?

  She needed to get it together.

  It took a while but eventually the silence and isolation from him gave her the clarity of mind to gather her senses and admonish them for their lack of control. She was furious that she’d fallen into his kiss so easily, angry that she’d allowed herself to be seduced by the sparks that flared in full force when he’d held her.

  What was wrong with her? What happened to he’d hurt her too much to be forgiven? What had happened to she was so angry she just wanted him out of her life?

  She should’ve been stronger.

  Granted, Nic kisses were magical and any woman would’ve forgotten her own name at his sensual assault. But damn it, she had willpower. That willpower, however, didn’t keep her from touching two fingers to her still swollen lips or touching her tongue to them seeking his taste again. A pang of regret twisted her heart at the memories of the times when she could’ve just walked back to the bedroom for another taste of him.

  “Damn it!” she muttered to herself. At this rate she was going to fall in love with him all over again.

  And she certainly wouldn’t, could not, let that happen.

  By the time she came back to the bedroom carrying a plateful of food for Nic, she’d wrestled her errant her hormones into a semblance of discipline. Nic had settled on the armchair by the window.

  “Thank you,” he said when she handed him the plate. Instead of digging in, he said, “I’m sorry I lost control.”

  She wanted to let him take full blame for the madness between them, after all he was the one who’d left. But she couldn’t! Not when she knew that if she’d insisted, he would’ve stopped. This was much her lapse in judgment as it was his.

  “We both lost control.” She sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her tone hardened as she added, “It won’t happen again.”

  He stared at her for a moment then inclined his head in agreement.

  While he ate, she carted her towel, toiletries and nightclothes to the bathroom. A shower was just what she needed to soothe her jangled nerves. By the time she emerged from the bathroom fresh, clean and ready for bed, he was done with dinner and the plate was nowhere to be seen.

  His eyes lingered over body in a heated gaze that made her feel like she was wearing the sexiest of lingerie when all she had on was a purple racer-back tank-top and navy leggings. Ignoring him, she turned down her comforter.

  “Do you mind if I sleep here?” he asked.

  She paused, but realizing that his being close would make her feel safer, shrugged. “Knock yourself out,” she returned flippantly. “I can’t guarantee the comfort of that armchair though.”

  “I’ve slept in worse.”

  Oh, how she wanted to delve into that cryptic comment. But she didn’t. He wasn’t going to answer her anyway, so why bother. She closed her eyes and drifted into sleep, under his careful watch.

  The next night Nic came back.

  He knew it was a bad idea for him to be here – a really bad one.

  Especially after that kiss! Already he could feel himself getting inextricably entangled in the web that was Melanie. His brain violently protested the connection being forged between them again, knowing that he’d have to break it soon. But his heart refused to let go.

  Melanie had him screwed on backwards, knowing the right thing to do yet unable to do it. With each passing day, she ripped through the defenses he’d fostered for the last nine years to shield himself from romantic entanglements. He struggled to reel in his baser instinct to go to her. Almost succeeded! Then the clock struck midnight, and he gave up the fight.

  Just one more look.

  He found himself on the road, on his way to her. He couldn’t resist the lure of those plump lips, the expressive eyes or her lush body. Rational thought slipped through his fingers like sand in an hour glass. He was like a moth to her flame. No matter the danger, no matter the threat of being burnt, the moth kept coming back for more.

  She’s asleep, he justified as he easily leapt from her neighbor’s balcony to hers and pried open the door. Mentally making a note to ask her to get a better lock for that entrance too, he made his way into the apartment. She wouldn’t be awake to seduce him with another delicious drink of her lips.

  But then it seemed she had a second sense for him. As soon he settled in the armchair, her eyelids fluttered and she drifted into wakefulness.

  Her voice was raspy with sleep as she said, “I think you’ve been watching too much Twilight.”

  He knotted his brow in confusion. “What?”

  “Twilight, the movie,” she clarified with a yawn as she reached upwards to switch on the bedside lamp. Her actions bathed the room and her features with a warm orange glow. Cuddling back under the covers, she said, “There’s this creepy dude called Edward who’s always watching his girlfriend sleeping. He thinks it’s sexy or something.”

  He chuckled. “I guess you don’t think it’s sexy.”

  “Not even a bit.” She shook her head as she curled into fetal position facing him. Her voice lethargic and eyes hooded, she said, “You look nice. I like it when you wear a t-shirt and denim.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t like me in suits?”

  “I do,” she said sluggishly. Closing her eyes, she said, “But the jeans remind me of old Nic. I miss him.”

  “He misses you too,” Nic said so quietly, he was sure she didn’t even hear him.

  This Melanie was a far cry from the prickly woman who’d been confronting him the last couple of days. He knew why
. Sleepiness was like alcohol to her, it mellowed her out and lowered her guard. When they were younger, he’d made a game of conducting conversations with her when she was half asleep then teasing her the next day with the secrets she’d revealed.

  What secrets would she let slip if he talked to her now?

  Tempting as it was, he resisted the urge. He doubted Melanie would appreciate him prying into her mind now as she would have nine years ago.

  Eyes still closed, Melanie called out, “Nic?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Come cuddle with me,” she murmured. “Just for a few minutes.”

  Nic wanted to protest. His brain ordered his mouth to utter the words of refusal, his lips parted to say No but the sound never came. How could he resist one last chance to be close to her? A chance to hold her through the night like he once had and pretend that she was still his woman. He wasn’t a saint; just a man.

  As he shrugged off his jacket, slipped off his t-shirt, unlooped his belt and kicked off his shoes, he told himself that he was only staying in the bed until she fell asleep. But even as he fit his body behind hers and eased his arm over her waist, he knew he would stay for longer than that if she asked.

  CHAPTER 12

  Stop and think it over.

  Put yourself in my position.

  If I get stoned and sing all night long,

  It’s a family tradition.

  The jaunty country tune seeped into Melanie’s subconscious and urged her into wakefulness. Releasing a deep breath, she stretched in her half-sleep only to find herself trapped by an arm across her waist and a warm body pressed to her back. Startled, she snapped her eyes open, glanced at the shadow of the muscular arm trapping her then turned her head in search of her captor. She couldn’t see him well in the darkness so she flipped the switch. Light filled the room and her gaze met his inscrutable gaze.

  Her brain registered that Nic was in her bed and immediately threw a panicked fit. What? Why? How? She sifted through her memories to find out how that could have happened and came up blank. Nada. Zilch. She had no idea. The last thing she remembered was climbing into her bed, muttering to herself that it was good he hadn’t turned up, but secretly disappointed.

  She shifted her gaze from his face to his heavily muscled and very naked chest. Her eyes lowered to the rest of his long frame decently covered by the comforter bunched at his waist.

  Surely, she hadn’t…

  “No, we didn’t.” His low words rumbled in the silent room.

  “Oh, thank god!” She released a relieved breath. Her exclamation was accompanied by her phone ringing again and the country tune echoed in the room.

  Hank, why do you drink?

  Hank, why do you roll smoke?

  Why must you live out the songs that your wrote?

  At the tune, Nic shot her an amused look and his lips curved in a smile. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Hank Williams Junior? Yes, Hank Williams Junior. Crazy politics, yes, but the guy had some good pipes on him. She sniffed in annoyance, pushed his arm from her waist and reached for her phone. She grabbed it from the bedside table and checked the caller ID to see Cece’s name flashing on the screen.

  Her heart’s jolt of fear was immediate. There was only one reason her friend would be calling at this time was if something horrible had happened?

  Had Vance done something?

  She rushed to answer the phone. “Cece, what’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? Why would anything be wrong?” Cece sounded chipper than a kid preparing to attend the carnival. “In fact it is sooo right. Hooks just got a season three.” Her squeal of excitement was so loud and lengthy that Melanie had to hold the phone away from her ear to protect her eardrums from splitting.

  When the atrocious caterwauling faded, Melanie asked, “You called me at-” She paused to check the time then pressed the phone back to her ear. Struggling to keep her voice civil, she continued, “-at four thirty a.m. to tell me that Hooks has been renewed.”

  “Yesss.” Cece’s cheer wasn’t fazed by Melanie’s chillier tones. “I was just browsing and I saw the announcement on NTN. Hooks. Is. Back. You know how they left us hanging with that whole Barbie holding a gun to Alonso thing. Ooh girl, that crazy bitch might actually pop his cheating ass this ti-”

  Melanie kissed her teeth and hang up. Unbelievable.

  The phone resumed ringing almost immediately. Of course it was Cece. Melanie swiped her finger over the answer button, then pressing the gadget to her ear, offered her friend a curt, “If you don’t go to bed right now, I’m going to tell Aunt Honey you were surfing porn on her Wi-Fi in the middle of the night.”

  “Yeesh, lady,” Cece complained, “What bug crawled up your ass this early in the morning?”

  “Cece Scott!”

  “Okay. Okay. Damn! Don’t get your thong in a bunch. I’m going. Buuuut…” She yelled out a parting, “Hooks is baaaaack.”

  This time when Melanie ended the call there was no accompanying ring back. Nic’s chuckle penetrated the renewed silence. “Your friend is crazy.”

  “Tell me about it.” Melanie rolled her eyes as she set the phone back on the bedside table. Realizing that she was now wide awake, she huffed in irritation. “Well there goes my sleep.”

  “Sorry,” he offered.

  The word drew her attention to him. He was lying on his back, his arm behind his head and still half-naked. She demanded, “Nic, what are you doing in my bed?”

  His expression was inscrutable as he said, “You asked me to cuddle with you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No, I didn’t.”

  His answer was a raised eyebrow that sent a shot of doubt through her. She’d been known to do weird things in her sleep so maybe that was what had happened – her subconscious acting on needs her physical body refused to admit. Ugh! But Nic’s smugness sparked her temper, and she clapped her hands. “Well, chop chop. Time to leave.”

  He didn’t leave.

  He turned to his side and propped his head on his arm as a smile suffused his face. “I can’t believe you’ve still got that Hank Junior song.” His smile widened. “It used to be the ring-tone for that jacked up Nokia you had in high school.”

  To say, she was surprised was an understatement. She laughed. “You still remember that?”

  “I remember everything about you.”

  His pronouncement had an almost immediate sobering effect and pulled tension in between them. Both their smiles faded replaced by silence. Melanie’s lips parted to say something, anything, but no sound came. He didn’t speak either but the air was thick with unsaid words, conversations they should’ve been having.

  She folded her legs upwards, wound her arms around them. Resting her head on her knees, she watched him as he watched her. When she couldn’t bear the steel of his gaze, she slid hers downwards to rest on his upper arm. The dark etching on his skin had her stomach knotting and her breath hitching.

  Lightly running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, she said, “You’ve still got my tattoo.”

  “Yeah,” he returned simply as his own glance slipped to the heart carved into his bicep. Her name lay calligraphied in fancy strokes within the heart, irrefutable proof that he’d once loved her.

  It was the tattoo that broke her.

  Why would he keep such a stark reminder of them when he was the one who’d walked out? Why had he let them go if he cared enough to keep memories of them? The tears started falling before she could stop them. She swiped her palm over her eyes and cheeks to chase them away but of course the stupid things just kept coming.

  Nic sat up on the bed and reached for her, but she slapped his arm away. He didn’t retreat. He scooted alongside her and rounded his arm over her back. Even when she punched his chest, he only drew her closer. She pushed a fist against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to push him away, but his hold was insistent. She soon found herself cradled to the side of his body, her face tucked into the crook of his shoulder and her t
ears wetting his skin.

  She hated that he had the ability to push her to tears. She wanted to pretend she didn’t care. She wanted to raise an eyebrow at him, give him a ‘whatever’ to let him know she wasn’t in the least bit moved by his return or the tattoo. But her reactions were not hers to control. She tucked her face deeper into his shoulder and let the emotions bleed from her heart.

  He held her close, so close she inhaled his easy aquatic warm masculine scent with every breath she took. His scent was almost as calming as his hold. His warm breath whispered against her hair while the hand that wasn’t around her waist ran up and down the sides of her body in soothing motions.

  Cold air lifted goose-bumps on her skin when he pushed the comforter aside to reveal the gray cotton shorts she’d worn to match her gray t-shirt. But his touch soon warmed her. His palm moved over the bared skin of her ankles, cupped her calves and whispered over her upper thighs in soft, soothing strokes. His touch was meant to be comforting but the strength of those long slim fingers sparked reluctant desire in her.

  She withdrew her face from his neck to look up at him.

  His eyes met hers in a regretful look that said everything words never could. He raised a hand and tipped her chin upwards. As always she could only resist for a few seconds before she was arching upwards and into his kiss. The first touch of his tongue against hers was like being tazered. The sensations swooped in and zipped through her body like an unchecked electric current.

  He cupped her chin and slanted his lips over hers to deepen the kiss. He tortured her with long searching kisses until she didn’t know where one ended and the other began. All she tasted was his clean masculine essence melding with her tears. All she felt was the consuming heat of seduction.

  Hands anchored in her braids, he fed her kisses that grew increasingly passionate, increasingly urgent. He seemed to have lost all restraint. His lips were hard, demanding and ravenous, urging-forcing her to lose her own inhibition. Without thought, she followed his lead, cupping both her hands over his jaw and falling into the kiss with greedy passion.