Coming Apart at the Seams Page 2

  “I was sorry to see you guys didn’t make the playoffs,” Amelia said. “But there’s always next year.”

  Teagan felt Nick shrug. “Not for me.”

  At his announcement, Teagan, Amelia, and Quinn all chorused “What?” in varying volumes. Teagan’s definitely had been the loudest.

  She jerked away from Nick, and this time, he let her go. She spun to face him, and even though she struggled to digest the bomb he’d dropped on them, she noticed how his expensive black suit outlined his broad shoulders. The dark color made his blond hair look even lighter, and his French blue dress shirt showed off his tan.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, staring into the face she dreamed about almost every night.

  He was gorgeous—beyond gorgeous.

  He knew it, of course he did. But unlike a lot of extraordinarily handsome men, he didn’t seem to care much about his looks.

  “I’ve decided to . . . umm . . . retire,” he said.

  She gasped. “Why?”

  “It’s time.”

  “What are you going to do?” Quinn asked.

  “Not sure,” Nick replied, running a hand through his short hair.

  Her hands itched to touch the silky strands. He’d cut his hair since she had seen him a few weeks ago, and the color seemed to change depending on the length. Right now, his hair was a mix of honey and caramel, and as it grew out, it would turn lighter, almost the shade of morning sunshine.

  Quinn cocked his head, staring at Nick with a calculating look. He turned toward Amelia.

  “Juice,” he said, using his nickname for his bride-to-be, “did you know Priest has a degree in American history from USC?”

  Amelia smiled, showing the sizable gap between her front teeth. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “Priest, you didn’t know my Grandma Violet, but she was an interesting woman. Kind of eccentric. She was ten times richer than my Grandpa Patrick, maybe even a hundred times richer. The O’Briens made their money by clothing prospectors, but her family actually found gold.”

  Teagan stared at Quinn. Why was he talking about Grandma Vi? Was he drunk?

  Nick narrowed his eyes. “And?”

  “Well, you see, Grandma Violet set up an endowment to create a museum that celebrates the history of Riley O’Brien & Co. and the role it played during the California Gold Rush. And that endowment money has to be used by 2017.”

  Teagan sucked in an appalled breath. He wouldn’t! Would he?

  “What would you think about heading up that project? Laying the groundwork for the museum?” Quinn asked Nick. “It would be part of the company’s charitable foundation, which falls under Teagan’s purview. She’d be your boss.”

  Nick slanted a cunning look toward Teagan, his light green eyes glowing like peridots. He smiled slowly.

  “I’m in.”

  Chapter 2

  The only way Nick’s night could get any better was if it ended with his hands and mouth on Teagan’s body and his cock buried deep inside her. In the span of an hour, his best friend had asked him to participate in his wedding, issued him an invitation to spend the holidays with the O’Briens, and offered him a new job with their family company.

  Quinn had just given Nick every excuse he needed to be around Teagan almost twenty-four/seven. He was so elated he wanted to hug the other man, but he gave him a fist bump instead.

  While he struggled to hold back a grin, horror filled Teagan’s face. He had no doubt she was hastily evaluating ways to get out of working with him, but there was no way in hell he’d let that happen. He was going to occupy all her time until she allowed him to occupy her heart again.

  Quinn leaned close to Amelia and grabbed her hand. “Let’s dance,” he suggested, leading her to the dance floor and leaving Nick and Teagan alone.

  Teagan looked up at Nick, her blue eyes shadowed and her face pale. “Please don’t accept the job,” she requested huskily.

  He didn’t respond. He knew she was upset, and it made his conscience twinge. But he reminded himself that he didn’t want to hurt her ever again. He was trying to make things right. He truly believed neither one of them would ever be happy unless they fixed what had gone wrong between them.

  He’d written letters to her—he’d lost track of how many—trying to explain . . . asking for another chance. He’d bared his soul in those letters, but she had sent them back, unopened. She had ignored his texts and emails, too. No surprise there.

  “I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish,” she continued, shaking her head in frustration. “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  He sighed. There were a lot of things he’d like to say to her, but he knew that even if he could get his mouth to work, she wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t even blame her.

  “I can’t.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You can’t what?”

  His heart pounded in a hard, fast rhythm, and he knew the more anxious he became, the harder it would be to speak. He rushed to squeeze out a sentence.

  “I can’t leave you alone.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Yes, you can. You have before.”

  He winced. She was right. He had behaved badly in the past.

  Teagan stared into his eyes for several moments, and he tried to let her see how sorry he was and how much he loved her. She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them, the pain in her gaze made his stomach cramp.

  He couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her. He drew her close, pulling in a lungful of her perfume, the light floral scent at odds with her bold personality. For a moment, she stood within his arms, his hands on the upper swells of her ass and her head against his shoulder. He savored the feel of her soft, warm body, imagining what it would be like to hold her like this whenever he wanted.

  Abruptly, she stiffened and pushed against his chest, forcing him to release her. “I don’t know what you want from me.” Her voice rose. “What do you want?”

  I want you. I always have.

  “You.”

  Her eyes widened. “No.”

  “Yes,” he countered firmly. He didn’t want there to be any doubt in her mind about his intentions.

  She backed away from him before turning on her heel and rushing out of the ballroom. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, he stared up at the glass ornaments hanging from the ceiling, debating whether he should go after her.

  He was tired of this bullshit. He was tired of chasing Teagan and tired of her running away. They weren’t playing tag. This wasn’t a game to him.

  She wasn’t a game to him, and she needed to know that. He was miserable without her, and he had a feeling she was just as miserable without him.

  He rushed to the door, and once he was through it, he looked up and down the wide corridor. It was empty except for a waiter, and he stopped the guy as he walked by.

  “Red dress?”

  The guy stared at him for a second before pointing to his right. “Down the hall, turn left. Good luck, man.”

  Nick jogged down the corridor, following the waiter’s direction. There was a fine line between persistence and stalking, and he knew he was close to crossing that line. Hell, he might have already crossed it. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but the thought of his life without Teagan made him even sicker.

  Hooking a left, he saw her leaning against the wall about thirty feet away. She turned her head as he approached, her eyes widening in alarm. Straightening, she put her hand out like a traffic cop when he was close enough to touch her.

  “Teagan—”

  “I’m not interested in hearing anything you have to say,” she interrupted fiercely.

  He growled. Even when he wanted to, he couldn’t get a fucking word in edgewise. She was just like her brother: she talked too much. He wishe
d she’d shut the hell up for just one goddamn minute. He had been trying to explain his shitty behavior for eighteen miserable months.

  “We’re not friends. We’re not lovers. We’re nothing. Nothing!” she continued loudly.

  He didn’t want to have this conversation in the hall. Encircling her wrist with his fingers, he tugged her down the corridor. He jiggled the knob on the first door he came to, but it was locked.

  Shit.

  “Let go, Nick. Right now!”

  Teagan tried to slow their progress by pulling against his grip, but he continued down the hall. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her go.

  Never again.

  “Nick! You asshole! Let go of me!”

  He tried the next door, and thankfully, it swung open. The light from the hallway permeated the darkness of the room enough for him to see it was a linen closet.

  Perfect.

  Pulling Teagan inside the room, he slammed the door behind them. He turned her until her back pressed against the door, and he faced her.

  Darkness cloaked them, but he didn’t need to see. He could feel her, smell her, and hear her all around him. She panted lightly, and those little gusts of breath made him think about the sounds she made when she came. Blood rushed to his cock, and he shook his head in an effort to focus.

  He wanted to talk to her, and he needed every bit of brainpower he had to force the words out of his mouth. He pressed his tongue against the back of his front teeth, an exercise that sometimes helped when he had a hard time speaking.

  “I—”

  “I hate you.” Tears made her voice thick. “I hate you.”

  A crater of sorrow formed in his chest. There was no way she hated him as much as he hated himself.

  He moved closer until her full breasts flattened against his chest. Finding her face in the dark, he brushed her tears away with his thumbs. She gulped, and he dropped his hands to her waist before leaning down to nuzzle her hair.

  He pressed his lips against her ear. “Shh,” he murmured over and over.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d soothed her tears, and he wished he wasn’t the cause of them now. Finally, her breathing calmed, and she stopped crying. He started to move back, but she turned her head, and her lips grazed his. She gasped, and the feel of her soft lips sent a jolt through his whole body.

  Clenching his fingers in the silky material of her dress, he opened his mouth against hers, tracing her lips with his tongue before easing it inside her mouth. He moaned as her tongue slid wetly against his.

  The first time he’d kissed her, so many years ago, he’d nearly eaten her alive. He’d been so hungry for her, and his hunger hadn’t abated since then. If anything, it was worse.

  He sucked on her tongue, and she brought her hands up to his shoulders, pushing at his suit coat. He let go of her to shrug it off and dropped it to the floor.

  Her hands were at his waist, pulling his dress shirt loose from his pants before reaching beneath his cotton undershirt to run across his stomach. He groaned against her mouth, so relieved to feel her touch once again.

  Bringing his hands to her face, he tilted her head so he could kiss her more deeply before pulling back to trail his mouth across her cheek and down her smooth neck. He sucked lightly on the fragrant skin before turning his attention to her pulse, pressing his tongue against where it beat in her throat.

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears, the blood racing through his body to pulse in his cock. He was hard—harder than he’d ever imagined he could be—because of her. She’d always had this effect on him, even when he hadn’t wanted her to.

  He didn’t know if she had any idea what she did to him, but she could very easily bring him to his knees. In fact, he was ready to beg.

  Gripping the material of her dress, he slowly pulled it up until he could feel the smooth flesh of her thighs against his fingers. He knew it was only a matter of time before she came to her senses and pulled away from him, and he needed a taste of her before she did.

  Since their one magical, horrible night, he’d dreamed about putting his mouth on the sweet spot between her legs again. The taste of her had tormented him for years.

  He knelt in front of her, wishing the light were on so he could see the dark hair covering her mound and the pink folds of her pussy. He ran his hands up her inner thighs until he reached the edges of her panties.

  The fabric felt flimsy, insubstantial, and he used both hands to pull on it, hoping he could tear it from her body. Much to his displeasure, the material held. Frustrated, he gave her panties a hard yank, using the same strength he employed to grab an uncatchable football out of the air.

  Teagan gasped as the fabric ripped but didn’t say anything. For once, she was silent, and he felt like roaring in victory.

  Moving closer, he raised her leg so it rested on his shoulder. He nuzzled her springy curls and pulled in a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell of her arousal.

  Using both hands, he pushed back her plump folds with the tips of his fingers. He found the place where wetness flowed from her body, and he lapped it eagerly with his tongue. She tasted like all his favorite flavors, sweet and spicy, tart and tangy. He couldn’t get enough, and he had to force himself to calm down, to take his time with her.

  She held his head against her, panting loudly. “Oh, God, I forgot how good your mouth feels,” she breathed.

  He replaced his tongue with two fingers, sliding them in and out of her body, and focused his attention on her clit. He sucked lightly on the hard little nub until Teagan clenched her hands in his hair and began to rock against his mouth.

  As he continued to plunge his fingers inside her, he swirled his tongue around her clit, back and forth, until she chanted his name. He bit down lightly on her nub, and she cried out, her internal muscles pulsing around his fingers.

  He stayed with her until the very end before removing his fingers and mouth. Dropping her leg to the floor, he rose to his feet.

  Would an orgasm make her more willing to listen? That hadn’t been his intent, but he could always hope.

  “Please let . . .” he said, but she cupped her hand around his erection, and the rest of his words died in his throat.

  Please let me explain.

  She fumbled with his belt, somehow managing to unbuckle it in the dark. Popping open the button on his pants, she unzipped his fly and pushed her hand inside his boxer briefs.

  “I want this,” she demanded, wrapping her hand around his cock.

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He wanted to be inside her, but he hesitated because she had said “this” rather than “you.”

  She squeezed him lightly. “Now.”

  Grabbing his wallet from his pants, he pulled out a condom. He ripped open the packet, the sound loud in the small linen closet, and sheathed his cock. Stepping between her legs, he hooked his arms under her ass and lifted her against the door.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he found her mouth in the dark as he eased inside her. She was swollen from her orgasm, and he groaned as her hot flesh enveloped him. Even though she was wet, she was extremely tight.

  “Nick,” she panted against his lips. “Too much.”

  He sucked on her tongue as he nudged into her with tiny pumps of his hips, making sure he didn’t hurt her. By the time he was completely inside her, he dripped with sweat, his dress shirt and undershirt clinging to him.

  Gripping her ass in both hands, he pulled out completely to thrust into her. They both moaned at the friction, the wet slide of his cock against her folds as it entered her pussy.

  He’d never felt this kind of pleasure, not even the first time they had been together. Back then, he hadn’t realized how he felt about her, but now he did, and that made everything better—and worse.

  She pulled back from his
kiss with a gasp. “More,” she demanded.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to hold back his orgasm. He shifted her higher to get a better grip on her ass and plunged into her, using all the muscles he’d honed from years of being a professional athlete. He set a fast, deep rhythm that rubbed his cock across her clit with every thrust.

  She whimpered. “Oh, I’m coming again,” she whispered, surprise coloring her voice. She let out a low moan as her pussy vibrated with deep clenches.

  He gasped as a trail of fire spread from his spine into his balls before erupting from his cock. His knees buckled as he came, pleasure crashing over him in waves, and he barely managed to hold on to her. After several moments, he pulled out of her snug body, letting her feet drop to the floor.

  He rested his face in her hair, trembling in the aftermath of the most intense sexual experience of his life. His eyes stung with emotion, and he was pathetically grateful for the darkness.

  He wished he could stop time. He wanted to stay here in this moment, cocooned in this small space, her taste in his mouth, her scent in his nose, and her cries of pleasure echoing in his ears.

  She pushed against his chest, forcing him backward, and he tripped on his underwear and pants, which were pooled around his ankles. Catching himself against one of the shelves, he groped around until he found a towel and removed the condom.

  He quickly pulled up his underwear and pants. He didn’t want to have this conversation bare-assed. He was forced to leave his trousers unbuttoned and belt unbuckled, though, because his hands shook—the same hands that had been steady and sure enough to catch more touchdown passes than any other wide receiver in the NFL, regardless of the pressure he’d been under.

  He felt Teagan move and heard her searching for something in the darkness. Seconds later, the overhead light flickered on. He blinked against the brightness, and when his eyes finally adjusted, he sought out her face. Her eyes were red and smudged with mascara, and lipstick was smeared around her mouth and chin.

  She looked horrible—and beautiful. The only thing he wanted in this world or the next.

  They stared into each other’s eyes, and as she opened her mouth to speak, he wanted to fold his hand over it. He wanted to beg her not to ruin this moment. Instead, he clenched his jaw and waited. He could tell by the look in her eyes her words would eviscerate him.