"Good morning, beautiful."
Jamey opened her eyes and looked around and immediately felt uncomfortable—with herself for what she had done—taking him to bed when she knew full well that she'd never be able to give him what he asked for–her life—her time–her heart. Blinking, she remembered the events of the night before that had led her to be in his bed. She fought back the panic that threatened to consume her and swallowed hard as memories of Nick swam around her brain. Nick—making love to her. Nick's hands, his body, his mouth—devouring her—her every need and want.
"Morning." She croaked softly.
"It's gonna be a hot one." He mumbled absently but took no notice when she didn't comment. Neither one of them were partial to much talking in the morning.
The sunlight was streaming in through the blinds casting pleasant light upon Nick's blue bedspread. She rolled over until she faced him, not knowing what she was going to say. Her heart soared at the sight of him lying beside her on his stomach with his hands cradling his head, and then plunged as she realized the depth of what they had done. She tried to rationalize it in her mind, tried to justify what she had done–which was take him to bed when she knew that she would never be able to commit to him–by telling herself that she'd been missing A.J. so—that missing his sixth birthday was just as horrible as his fifth and fourth.
Her baby, her beautiful son. How she missed him, how very long the hours and days and months since she had held him in her arms. She missed the smell of him after he had come from the baseball field with his father—all dirt and grime and boy. That special smell that let her know he'd been having a hell of a time with Danny–where ever they'd been. She missed the sound of his tiny voice, whether it was talking, yelling or crying—and singing—she would have given anything to hear that sweet childish out-of-tune voice that was music to her ears.
She desperately wished she could finally tell Nick about him, about Danny. Lying there in the morning light she thought back to a time when she and Danny lived together and were happy. Happy.
Such a fragile word—such an illusion.
In New York the pace was fast just as it was in Las Vegas; People constantly on the move, always coming and going, never watching where they were going or caring who they plowed into. Jamey and Danny's favorite day of the week was Sunday because they always slept late and woke up just in time to make love before Tracy would bring A.J. home. The eldest Kent would bring home her favorite—and only—nephew about lunch time, as she always kept him on Saturday nights so her baby sister and soon to be brother-in-law could have a little time alone.
Jamey closed her eyes again and remembered Danny's sorrow-sticken face the last time she'd seen him and immediately felt guilty again. Up until their son had died they had been the perfect couple, never fighting over anything, really. They loved each other deeply and completely. They made love at least four times a week and they loved to spend time together whether it was at the lab or at home in the kitchen making pasta for three. She decided that she would call him—soon—to see how he was. It was the right thing to do—even if she had left him behind.
The weight of what had happened seemed to be closing in on her lately, much like being stuck in a box with no hope of escape. At first she could almost block it from her mind—but it always came back seeping into the deepest parts of her brain. Then, as the first two years passed, she felt it come back a little stronger instead of the hurt diminishing and she found at times the memories made it hard for her to breathe. But now, after making love with Nick, after seeing the way he'd looked at her she knew his gentleness knew no bounds—and still she was afraid.
Afraid that if she told him he would get that look on his face—the one that a lot of people had made at her behind her back (so her sister had told her) and some to her face—the look that had made her feel like a monster—not that she cared to argue with that fact. The trouble was that if she told him and reacted the way she suspected–that she'd never be able to look him in the eye again. Selfishly, she realized, her secret was the only way to keep Nick in her life.
Her lip trembled as she watched him. She took in his skin, his smell—so powerful and male, verile and sexy. Nick, in whole, was like a drug to her—one that she knew she was now addicted to, and yet, she didn't want to be. She knew that once he knew the details of A.J.'s death, he'd never want to speak to her again and that thought alone made her both want to cry and throw up at the same time.
She fought back the urge to cry and reached out to run her palm down the length of his naked back, loving the feel of his skin beneath her. He groaned at her touch, which made her heart beat wildly. Bravely, she applied a little more pressure and ran her hand back up his back and gently rubbed his shoulder blades. She wanted him again, there was no question about it, she needed him again–even if it was selfish.
"You keep doin that, darlin, I won't be responsible for what I may do to you." He drawled, as lazily stretched out, much like a well satisfied cat.
She didn't answer, just kicked her legs free of the sheet that covered her nudity and rolled over until she straddled him, her legs tightening around his waist. She began to massage his shoulders deeply, lovingly, trying to put her need for him in something physical instead of in words. She'd never be able to tell him how she felt—never explain her life that had been lost and she hoped that he wouldn't try and make her. He groaned again appreciatively as she kneaded the muscles in his neck.
"Okay, now you are driving me crazy." He mumbled as she moved her hand downward and began to kneed the muscles in his lower back. Her heart pounded in her chest as she loved him with her hands. All at the same time her head hurt as she tried to block out the pictures of Danny and A.J. that wouldn't leave her mind.
She leaned forward and let her long hair brush over his back as she began to kiss his spine lightly. She felt him shudder and then groan. His hands came out from underneath his head and fisted.
"Jaaaaamey–do you realize what you're doin here?" He began to writhe and wiggle.
She didn't respond, only kissed her way down his back and then crossed over and nibbled at his side. He was a wonderful sight to behold, a wonderful lover and an excellent friend. She put all of the passion she had inside into her kisses—for she couldn't find the words.
And it worked.
"Okay—that's it!" He growled huskily, flipping over and, very easily, keeping her on top of himself. His lust-filled eyes locked on hers, as he grinned. "You wanna go another round with me, darlin'?"
She didn't give him time to answer before her lips were on his.
To hell with it—she'd figure out the rest of it later.
She was starting to feel like a woman again.
It was about damn time.