I've Got A Secret

43-year-old Nick Stokes leaned back against the mirrored wall of the elevator as he rode it up to the pent house apartment, 100 stories up, trying to ignore his reflection that surrounded him and swallow the bitterness that seemed to be creeping up his throat. He couldn't help but realize that this was all supposed to be his, he'd been part of her life long before she'd met Greg, he'd even gone as far as buying her a ring he'd been determined to place on her finger, yet that had all come crumbling down the night he'd made the mistake of introducing her to the lab geek with the frosted tips.

The elevator door dinged and the doors slid open to the foyer of the apartment, Nick's shoes clomping on the marble floors, echoing throughout the luxurious space. It was dark, except for the lights spilling in from the Vegas strip below them through the floor to ceiling windows, and unless he was imagining it, he swore the whole place emanated her lavender scent.

"Greg?" a melodic voice asked, startling Nick.

Nick glanced up to see 25-year-old Easton Mead standing in the living room just past the foyer, wearing only a pair of black boy-short panties and one of Greg's t-shirt's. Even in the minimal lighting Nick could see that her toned, tanned dancers legs went on for miles.

"Oh Nicky, it's you." He couldn't help but notice the flash of disappointment on her face that he wasn't Greg, but her full lips quickly turned up into a smile. She walked towards him, flipping a light switch and filling the foyer with a honey-coloured glow. She leaned in to hug him, her golden ponytail swaying slightly, releasing a small burst of her lavender shampoo, filling Nick's nostrils like a drug.

"Yeah, hey East, didn't mean to startle you," he apologized in his Texan drawl, quickly releasing her before the feel of her body on his again became too much for him to bear.

Her expression suddenly became one of concern, and she grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look into those endless ocean blue eyes of hers. "Greg's OK, right? Nothing happened?"

"Oh no, no, everyone's perfectly fine." Nick suddenly found his mind scrambling, trying to figure out a valid excuse as to why he'd shown up in the middle of the night shift at her apartment, knowing very well Greg was busy across town at another crime scene. He'd been several blocks down, assigned to a minor robbery at a liquor store where the cashier had been shot in the arm when he'd suddenly had the overwhelming urge to see her, smell her, feel her. "Uh, I was in the neighbourhood and Greg said he forgot his wallet, so I offered to pick it up."

Easton glanced at the table against the wall where her fiancé normally left his wallet, yet there was no sign of the worn black leather he'd carried with him for as long as she'd known him. "He probably left it in his locker." She watched Nick, aware he was having a hard time meeting her gaze. She knew he was lying, she knew him well enough for that.

She'd known him since she was a high-school senior and he'd been the CSI assigned to investigate the drugging death of one of her classmates at her senior prom. She'd been interviewed as a witness by him, and had melted the moment she'd looked into those heart-breaking eyes of his, seen his charismatic grin, heard his sexy Southern twang. They'd caused quite a scandal when they'd started dating a few months afterwards, with her just recently turning 18 and him being 36.

Not that Easton was a stranger to scandal. Her great-great grandfather had been one of the founding father's of the Vegas strip and the namesake of Nevada's Lake Mead and had passed on the family fortune through the generations, with her father now owning 3 of Vegas' most lucrative casino's. Easton, who had danced since she was 2, had also made a name for herself as a professional choreographer, working with everyone from the cast of Dancing with The Stars, to Justin Timberlake, The Pussycat Dolls and Michael Jackson.

"Nicky, what's the matter?" She let her hand trail down his arm, ending at his hand, pulling teasingly on one of his fingers.

"I just felt like I needed to see you," he admitted with a sheepish shrug of his broad shoulders. He finally looked up, locking onto her gaze. Before he knew what was going on, he leaned in and met her lips with his, kissing her slowly at first, then more urgently, his tongue hungrily probing hers as he put his hand to her cheek, pulling her closer. Surprisingly, she didn't resist, but instead her hands griped the back of his neck, her fingers digging through his short, dark hair.

He trailed kisses down from her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks and down her elegant neck, trying to remember every last detail of her. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other made it's way up to her handful of a breast, his thumb rubbing the nipple underneath the threadbare fabric of Greg's college t-shirt that she was wearing until it popped, leaving a perfect little bump.

"Nick," her voice came from beneath his lips. She wasn't pulling away from him, but she wasn't returning his passion anymore. "Nick, I can't do this to Greg."

Nick surrendered her from his arms, taking a step back, trying to put himself under control. "You're right. I just can't stop thinking about you, East."

Easton's expression was hard to read. "I just can't do this to Greg." Now she was the one who was having a hard time meeting his gaze. "We can't do this to Greg." She fiddled with the 3-stone, princess cut engagement ring on her left hand, finally looking up at him long enough for him to notice tears glistening in her eyes.

"I just need you one more time." Before either had a chance to say anything, Nick wrapped both arms around her, attacking her lips, pressing his pelvis against her, backing her into the living room. With no protest from her, he lifted her shirt over her head in one fluid motion, barely taking his lips from hers, smiling slightly at the way the moonlight made her skin glow, making her almost seem angelic. He took one of her now naked breasts into his mouth, sucking her nipple like a hungry infant, revelling in the feeling of it growing hard and pink between his lips.

She tugged his CSI vest off and feverishly untucked his shirt from his pants, tracing her fingers down the hot skin of his muscular torso. She tugged at his fly as she pulled his shirt off, freeing his erection from his boxer-briefs and wrapping her hand around his length.

Nick slid a hand down the back of her panties, giving her toned ass a squeeze as he pushed the panties down. She was now fully nude and more beautiful then ever and he slid a hand down between her legs, feeling her wet heat as he teased a finger inside of her. She groaned appreciatively as she writhed under his touch and he pressed her back up against one of the floor to ceiling windows. Kicking his pants off the rest of the way, he slid himself into her, appreciating how they still seemed to fit together like 2 pieces of a puzzle, her tightness wrapped snugly around his penis.

"Oh Nicky," she murmured as he slowly began to thrust inside of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him in deeper, an invitation he gladly accepted. As he fucked her, he flicked her now perky nipples with his tongue and she dragged her fingers down his back, not caring in the least that her naked body was pressed against the glass pane for all the world to see.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to hold back for long, he'd never been able to with her, she just had that effect on him. As if reading his mind she brought a finger to her clit, twiddling it, knowing it would help to bring her to the end just that much quicker. As he began to feel her walls clench around him, she moaned as wave after of wave of pleasure flowed through her and Nick struggled to hold his balance as he released his seed into her, feeling her grow limp as her orgasm came to a standstill. He carried her over to the couch, still inside her, and fell with her onto the cool, cream coloured leather. He couldn't help but notice her staring at the framed picture of her and Greg on the coffee table beside them.

"He doesn't have to know," Nick said, climbing off of her and finding his pants and boxers on the floor, pulling them on. Now instead of the bitterness, all Nick could feel was guilt. Sure, Easton had been his girl, but she was Greg's now, and Nick knew they loved each other. What had he been thinking showing up like this?

"I know." Easton's voice was barely a whisper. She stood off the couch, finding her own clothes and pulling them on. "Nick, I think you should go."

He nodded, pulling on his last shoe, quickly scanning the room to make sure he had everything. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before taking a step towards her. He buried his face in her hair, kissing the top of her head. "If it means anything, East, I'm sorry."

She stood still for a moment, before finally giving him a tentative hug. "Its OK, Nick, it wasn't just you. Like you said, he doesn't have to know."