Triple Threat Page 6

  “Fifteen years ago.”

  “You mean you haven’t been back?”

  “Nope.” He lifted his glass and downed the contents. “Not since I left.”

  “What about your parents?” As much as they sometimes annoyed her, Holly couldn’t imagine going that long without seeing her family. Even during the last few years of her marriage, when Clark had done his best to cut her off from the rest of the world, she’d managed to see them on holidays.

  “My mom visits me on the West Coast twice a year.”

  “And your dad?”

  A hint of the vulnerable teenager she’d seen that night at the cast party flashed across Nick’s handsome face. “He doesn’t travel.”

  “Oh.” She watched his expression flatten and calm, the boy within him disappearing. Nick was a man toughened—and blessed—by life. But maybe he was as much of a screw-up in his family as anyone else.

  As much as her.

  He tunneled a hand through his luscious, too-long locks and dropped his empty glass down on the bar. “Enough about me. I came here to make sure you’re okay. Unless you’d rather be alone...”

  “I’m...” She started to give her standard “I’m fine,” then stopped. She wasn’t fine. She was a churning mass of competing emotions, not one of them “fine.” And the last thing she wanted was to be alone.

  What she wanted was Nick. Touching her. Kissing her. Making her forget that the show she’d banked her reputation on was dead in the water, that she’d soon be back in Stockton, living with her parents. And while she didn’t want to go fifteen years without seeing them, moving in with them wasn’t exactly part of her master plan.

  Holly knew if she and Nick picked up where they’d left off that day in his hotel room, they weren’t going to stop with touching and kissing. She also knew he’d be gone before she could say off-off-Broadway, back to the sun, surf and starlets in L.A. But she didn’t care. Nick was here with her now.

  And it wasn’t as if she was looking for anything permanent. She’d been there, done that, gone down in flames. Clark had seemed so harmless, the prototypical mild-mannered science geek, complete with glasses and pocket protector. Yet marrying him had wound up being the most dangerous decision she’d ever made.

  Sleeping with Nick would be dangerous, too, but for far different reasons. He might not pose a threat to her body—at least not the way Clark had—but there was a good chance that, if she let him, he could walk away with her heart and soul. A real triple threat, never mind the whole acting, singing and dancing thing.

  So just make sure you don’t let him, she told herself. Easier said than done, but the heat coursing through her body—whether from the alcohol or Nick’s earthy, totally male scent—was telling her it was time she started taking some risks in her personal life. And Nick Damone was six foot plus of heart-stopping, lip-smacking risk personified.

  “I’m glad you’re here. I could use some company tonight.”

  “At your service.” He gestured toward her half-empty glass. “Can I buy you another?”

  “Actually, I was thinking we should...”

  “Should?” He inched his bar stool closer to hers.

  “Maybe...”

  “Maybe?”

  She stared up at the ball game on TV. If she looked at him, she’d never get out what she needed to say. As it was, her words came out in a breathless rush. “Go somewhere a little more private.”

  She felt Nick tense beside her. Heard him inhale sharply. “Where did you have in mind?”

  He rested his arm on the back of her bar stool, skimming her shoulder with his fingers. Heat radiated down her arm and crackled across her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t believe she was going to do this. She took a hefty slug of her mudslide for Dutch courage and turned to him, running a hand up his leg until it came to rest on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch so he couldn’t possibly misunderstand her. His muscles twitched under her palm.

  “My place.”

  7

  HE WAS THE luckiest son of a bitch on earth.

  “Are you sure?” Nick asked.

  Holly nodded. “Positive.” Her voice, low and breathy, crawled up his spine like naughty fingers, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. “One night before you go. No strings.”

  He threw a stack of bills down on the bar, not bothering to count them, and grabbed the hand that was only millimeters from his throbbing dick. “Then let’s get out of here,” he growled, pulling her up from the stool and practically dragging her toward the door. He pushed it open, blasting them with warm air.

  “Leaving so soon?” Devin hollered after them.

  “I’ll text you,” Holly called back.

  “Tomorrow,” Nick added as he hauled her outside, the door slamming shut behind them. He looked left, then right, relieved to find the street virtually deserted. Not a paparazzo in sight. The New York photogs were way less vigilant than their L.A. counterparts. Yet another check in the pros column for the Big Apple. Just to be safe, he hung a sharp right and rounded the corner of the bar, moving them away from the glare of the streetlights and into a dark, shadowy alley along the side of the building.

  “My apartment’s that way,” Holly protested, pointing in the opposite direction.

  “First this.” He backed her against the wall and planted a palm on either side of her head, against the rough brick. With one knee, he nudged her legs apart and edged between them. Dipping his head, he captured her lips, first gently, coaxing them open with a sweep of his tongue, then, when he felt her arch against his chest, more deeply, more forcefully.

  He lowered his hands and cupped her sweet, round ass. He squeezed lightly, savoring the feel of her, all soft and warm. Like a woman should feel. A far cry from the stick figures in Hollywood.

  He tugged her closer for a better fit, molding her to him so she could feel his rock-hard erection. She gasped and he pulled back, raising his head to look at her. Her eyes shone and her breathing was choppy. He couldn’t tell if she wanted to hit him or jump his bones.

  Nick fought for control of his own ragged breathing. “Maybe we should...”

  Holly surprised him by grabbing the collar of his jacket and dragging him back to her. “Too much talking. Not enough kissing.” She slid her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in the hair at his nape, pressing her hot body against his and pulling his head down even farther so her lips could reach his. She kissed him wildly, thrusting her tongue against his and tilting her hips to bring her warm, wet center in contact with the zipper straining to hold back his cock.

  Groaning, he broke off this kiss, thinking it would slow her down so he could prolong both their pleasure. But slowing down didn’t seem to be part of her game plan. Instead, she let her mouth drift to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses and tender bites from his chin to the base of his throat.

  “Damn, I want you,” he growled.

  “So I see,” she teased, rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. “Do you plan to do anything about it?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  He lifted her up, cupping her bottom. Still pressed against the brick wall, she wrapped her legs around him and ran her fingers through his hair.

  “Nick...” She sighed, grinding against him. “More.”

  She didn’t have to ask twice. Following her lead, he tasted her soft earlobe then moved his mouth slowly down her neck, nibbling lightly. With one hand he released the top button of her blouse, then another, revealing just a hint of her lacy baby-blue bra. His lips followed, the stubble of his beard scraping the sensitive skin between her breasts and making her moan.

  It was crazy, what they were doing. Outside, in public, at barely eleven o’clock. When anyone could come along. He was long past caring, though, and, thankfully, so was she.

  He freed one more button, running the tip of his tongue deep into her cleavage. She whimpered as he undid the front clasp of her bra with his teeth, releasing her pale breasts, two perfect handfuls
topped by pert, rosy nipples begging to be sucked. He looked up at her, her head thrown back, eyes wide, hair mussed. Her mouth was open, her lips full and moist. She’d been transformed into a wild, wanton goddess, and he had to have her. Now.

  He drew one nipple into his mouth, rolling the taut bud with his tongue. She tasted like cinnamon and sugar and warm, soft woman. He dragged his mouth across her chest to savor the other nipple. A strange humming sensation built inside him as he sucked and licked like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  “Nick.”

  “Mmm.” The humming intensified, spreading throughout his chest.

  “Your phone.”

  He reluctantly let go of her breast and lifted his head. “Huh?”

  “Your phone. It’s buzzing.”

  He set her down and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his cell. A message flashed that he had one new text. Without even bothering to read it, he turned the phone off and put it back in his pocket.

  “Aren’t you going to...”

  “No.”

  “But what if it’s Ethan or Ted or Judith...” With trembling fingers, she struggled to fasten her bra. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

  She was freaking out. That was okay. He’d been about to take her against a brick wall. He wrapped her delicate hands in his own, the heat between them making him sweat. “You said you wanted one night, right?”

  “I think we both know why it can’t be anything more than that.”

  Yeah, he knew. His career on the other coast. The fame. His shitty childhood and resulting commitment phobia. It all made him a terrible candidate for a long-term relationship. So why was he so reluctant to agree with her?

  “Then you’ve got it,” he said after a long moment, swallowing his doubts. He moved her hands aside and fastened first her bra then the buttons on her blouse. “One night. You and me. No interruptions.”

  He’d barely finished speaking when something chimed in her messenger bag, which had fallen to the ground at her feet during their free-for-all. Wordlessly, she picked it up and retrieved her cell phone.

  “No interruptions,” she echoed, meeting his gaze. With a flourish, she held down the end-call button and dropped the phone back into her bag.

  * * *

  “I’LL GET US a cab.” Nick strode toward the street, leaving Holly to finish putting herself back together.

  As if on cue, a cab turned the corner, its top light on to show that it was available. The man really did lead a charmed life. Putting two fingers in his mouth, he let loose a shrill whistle, and the cab pulled to the curb. “If I’ve only got one night with you, I’m going to make it count.”

  Only one night? What was he trying to say? Did he want more than one night? With her?

  Oh, she knew he wanted her. She’d felt the proof of that in the alley. But for more than one night? No way. He’d be history once they’d scratched the irresistible itch that was pulling them together. He’d admitted as much earlier when he told her he’d be heading back to L.A. now that the play was no go.

  But that didn’t mean she was going to give up her chance at a night of mad passion under Nick’s skilled hands—hands that could wipe away some of the sting of the wounds Clark had left, inside and out.

  “Trust me?”

  She hesitated, knowing this was her last chance to back out. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder and put her hand in his. “Let’s go.”

  He opened the rear door and helped her inside. “Plaza Hotel.”

  She eyed him, brows raised. “We’re putting you up at the Plaza?”

  “No,” he said, laughing softly. “I bought one of the condo suites a few months ago. I had some renovations done, and it wasn’t ready for me to move in until last week.”

  He dropped an arm over her shoulders and scooted her closer to him. “You’ll be my first guest.” His breath was warm and smelled of whiskey, stirring the hair around her ear. “It’s got a king-size bed. A whirlpool bath that fits two. I think I’ve even got a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer.”

  “What girl could say no to Ben and Jerry?”

  “And here I thought it was me you couldn’t say no to.” He squeezed between her neck and shoulder and she melted, unable to move. With one finger he pushed aside the collar of her blouse and bent his head to kiss the newly exposed skin. He licked the same spot, trailing his tongue up her neck to her ear. “Can you, Holly? Say no to me?”

  Her head fell back and she swayed into him. “Um,” she said dazedly. There were no words.

  He peppered hot, wet kisses along her jawline. “Now, that’s what I like to hear.”

  “Nick,” she hissed when his lips traveled down her neck toward the valley between her breasts. “The cabbie.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s New York. He’s seen it all.” His free hand moved to the inside of her thigh and pushed her legs apart. “Besides, he’s not paying any attention to us.”

  “I... Oh.” A moan escaped her parted lips when his wayward hand journeyed higher to stroke her through her sopping-wet jeans.

  “Shh,” he warned, bringing his mouth to hers. “You don’t want him to hear you, do you?”

  “No, but...” He ground the heel of his hand against her and she moaned louder.

  “You leave me no choice,” he murmured against her lips. “Got to keep you quiet somehow.”

  He planted his mouth on hers, instantly hot and demanding. She arched her back and ran a hand up his chest, clutching the fabric of his T-shirt as if it were an anchor that could stop her from drifting away on a wave of sheer sensuality.

  They stayed locked together until he raised his head, making her whimper in protest. “It’s okay, babe. We’re here.”

  The cab slowed to a stop and Holly looked up to see the famous facade of the Plaza.

  “That’ll be twenty bucks, Mr. Damone.” The cabbie turned and gave a little cough. “And, uh, can I have your autograph? For my wife. She’s a big fan.”

  “Sure.” Nick scrawled his signature on a napkin the cabbie gave him, handing it back along with the fare and what looked to be a sizable tip. Then he grabbed Holly’s messenger bag and helped her out. She hummed with happy anticipation, her stomach quivering with sudden nerves as they crossed the palatial lobby. She barely registered the smiling doorman, the gold-leaf ceiling, the marble floor, on their way to the elevator.

  “Come here.” Nick reached for her again the second the doors slid shut. She went willingly into his arms, tilting her chin up and offering her lips. He accepted, lifting her up and devouring her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss.

  Ding.

  “Saved by the bell.” The elevator jerked to a stop and Nick relaxed his hold, letting her slide down his body. She felt every ridge and curve of him, making her already pounding heart race even faster. With one arm wrapped possessively around her waist, he led her out of the elevator and down the hall to his door. He fumbled with the key and she smiled, relieved she wasn’t the only one on edge. Finally, the door swung open and he ushered her inside, tossing off his jacket and flipping on lights as they went.

  The place was like something out of a fairy tale, with plush carpeting, a marble fireplace and intricately carved furniture, all done in discreet, muted tones. Framed photographs of sunrises and sunsets added splashes of color. Through an open doorway she could see half of what appeared to be an enormous bed, topped by an elaborate headboard and covered by a brilliantly white duvet and matching pillows.

  “Ice cream’s in the butler’s pantry.” Nick came up behind her, one hand caressing her backside and his mouth on her neck. His lips were warm and wet against her skin. With his other hand he reached around to cup her breast. “If you’re still hungry.”

  “I’m hungry,” she said, leaning back into him. She could feel his erection, hot and hard, nestled in the space between her buttocks. “But not for Ben. Or Jerry.”

  In one fluid movement, he turned her in his arms and picked her up, cradling her
to his chest. With long, purposeful strides, he carried her to the bedroom. If she thought she was in a fantasy before, now she was convinced. It was every sex dream she’d ever sweated through and twisted awake from with disappointment. Except she wasn’t dreaming now, and she wasn’t disappointed.

  He paused just inside the door and groped for the light switch. Holly grabbed his wrist, stopping him. “No, please,” she whispered. In the dark he wouldn’t see the scars left by Clark’s belt. She could tell herself all she wanted they were just something she’d gone through, scars from an emotional car wreck, but she wasn’t ready to go there yet. Letting herself touch and be touched was a big enough step for now. “It’s been a while since I’ve...been with anyone. I’d feel more comfortable if we left the lights off.”

  “How about a compromise.” He slid the dimmer switch up a notch, bathing the room in a soft, blue-gray light. “As for the rest...” He moved his hand up to her cheek and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “I guess we’ll just have to feel our way through.”

  She shook at the thought of feeling her way across his toned torso, down the hills and valleys of his abs and into the hollows where his hips met his pelvis. “That sounds...nice.”

  “Nice doesn’t even begin to describe what we’re going to do to each other, sweetheart.” He crossed the room to the bed, letting her slide to her feet along his solid, muscular frame. One arm snaked around her back and molded her to him. The other hand still cradled her cheek, forcing her to look at him as he spoke, his voice husky. “I plan to explore every inch of your gorgeous body, from those perfect, pouty lips to the tips of your pretty little toes. I’m going to touch and kiss and nibble and lick you all over until you’re begging me to let you come. And then, I’m going to start all over again.”

  Oh. My. God. Her body thrummed with sexual energy. No one had ever talked to her like this, so erotic. No one had ever wanted her like this, so openly. She felt like ice cream in a hot-fudge sundae, melting and dripping under the warm chocolate.