Show: The Guardian
Title: Family
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: Thank you for last chapter's comments. It's nice to know the few that have taken the time to
Read & Review have enjoyed the story so far.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Pittsburgh (3 months later)
As was the norm in recent months, Nick sat in the solitary dimness of his apartment, briefs and
reports spread out before him, a forgotten beer growing tepid on its coaster by his elbow. He had
barely taken the time to reheat himself last night's dinner after the courier service had delivered
him yet another batch of documents at eight p.m.
That was three hours ago. But he didn't realize the time. He was too engrossed in hammering out
the deal – crossing his T's and dotting his I's – for yet another big-wigged company to notice
anything as insignificant as time passing by.
He was desperately trying not to think of *her* - Amelia. She who invaded his every waking and
sleeping dream, whose voice was constantly on his mind. Whose lips he constantly ached to
taste. Whose rock in the past three months, he had been for her to constantly cling to after her
divorce papers had been delivered three months ago.
He tried not to think of that day when he had personally flown to New York to deliver the papers
to Freddie. He had not called to say he was coming, so neither Freddie not Amelia knew he was
coming. Instead, he had waited patiently for his cousin to see him, seated by the infamous Ms.
Skinner herself.
When Freddie had finally deigned to see him, what followed had not been pretty – a typical
explosion of the Fallin temper – name calling, cussing, threatening… classic. As usual around
Cousin Freddie, he lost his temper and was not much of a help to Amelia.
When he finally paid a visit to the brownstone later that day (after he had gotten his temper under
strict control again, of course), she had taken it all in stride, although she had been unable to look
him in the eye when he told her that indeed Freddie had seemed all too happy to accept the
papers. She was so strong it awed him – how could this woman, who had devoted the better part
of sixteen years of her life to a man wholly undeserving of it, be so cool and so collected in the
face of the dissolution of her marriage?
To this day he still didn't know; couldn't come to close to comprehension. She was still an
enigma, no matter how close they had gotten in the past three months – and she was still
attractive as hell!
Nick groaned and gave up the pretense of concentrating on work. He took a sip of his warm beer
and grimaced at the bitter taste. He glanced at his watch and rubbed his face in fatigue – it was
after 11. **Might as well try to get some semblance of sleep. Court bright and early tomorrow
morning. Whoop-ti-doo!** he thought sarcastically, rising from his chair.
It was raining out, he realized as he trashed the beer bottle and the remains of his Chinese take-
away dinner. For a few seconds, he stared mesmerized at the crystalline raindrops falling like
tears from the sky. He was so engrossed, he only absentmindedly realized that someone was
pounding the hell out of his front door.
**What the hell?** he mused wondering who the heck would be pounding on his door at this time
of the night. He yanked the door open and stared.
She stared back at him. Raindrops sluicing down her face and plastering her dark hair to her
skull. Her clothes were soaked and she was breathing hard. Although she was completely wet, he
could tell she was crying. She stared at his surprised face like a woman on a mission. Stepping
directly into his personal space, she watched his blue eyes widen before she slipped a cold hand
behind his neck and brought his lips down to meet hers.
Nick was frozen in shock before his body's instinctive reaction took over and he dragged her
closer to him, deepening the kiss in the process. Of their own accord his hands slipped under the
wet wool of her sweatshirt, stroking the cool smooth skin beneath. She bucked in his arms, her
pelvis rubbing against groin as his fingers encountered a sensitive spot in the small of her back.
"Nick," she sighed, breaking the kiss and tilting her had back to give his better access to the
smooth column of her throat.
Nick looked up, his blue eyes smoky with desire. "Are you sure?"
Amelia meet his gaze, her eyes equally smoky and desirous. Her silence was his answer.
Ever so gently, Nick scooped her up in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. He quickly
padded down the length of the hallway to his bedroom before gently depositing her in the middle
of the crisp cotton sheets on his bed. He took the time to stare at her, sitting up on her elbows,
her wet hair spread out on the sheets. He said nothing.
"Touch me…" she commanded softly, never breaking eye contact. "Touch me, Nick," she
repeated. "I'm not going to break."
Reverently he stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Slowly he kissed her eyes,
cheeks, ears and finally her mouth before he reached for the hem of the sweatshirt and lifted it
over her head. The white t-shirt that lay beneath soon followed until the top half of her body was
clothed only in a lacy black brassiere. His breath hitched as he took in her small firm breasts
straining against the cups, her skin a luscious ivory against the stark black. She lifted her hips
and let him slide the track bottoms past her hips, reveling in the aroused glint in his eyes as he
took in the matching bikini bottoms. Next came her socks and her shoes until she lay clad in
nothing but her skimpy underwear.
Goose pimples started to dot her skin and he cursed himself for his inconsideration. Leaving her,
he quickly returned with a towel and lifting her, up he rapidly rubbed the towel into her skin, drying
and warming her as best he could, until her surprisingly strong grip fell on his wrist indicating he
could finish warm her up with his body. He took the deep kiss and playful nip against his throat as
his invitation to undress.
Never breaking her gaze, he pulled the white t-shirt over his head, reveling in the feminine
appreciation of the defined muscles of his stomach and biceps rippling beneath the smooth
golden skin. He was barefooted already, so he slowly unbuckled his belt wincing at the metallic
rasp of his zipper in the room where only the sound of the rain outside and Amelia's shallow
breathing could be heard. His pants joined his shirt, until he was standing before her, clad only in
white Calvin Klein boxer-briefs, his erection highly evident. He went to slip them off himself but
her thumbs, hooking into the waistband halted him.
Nick's stomach muscles contracted as she pressed a kiss just below his navel and swirled her
tongue in the delectable little whorl before slowly sliding them past his hips. As they dropped to
his feet, she stared at the object of her fascination before her gaze slid up to his eyes, enjoying
the boyish embarrassment in their depths.
Hooking her fingers in his, she lay back inviting him to follow. He meant to kiss every single part
of her body, revel in each moan, each breath, each squirm, but Amelia had no such ideas.
"Nick…" she moaned breathlessly as his tongue swirled around her nipple. "Now. I need you
now."
The look in her eyes – desperate and wanting – left no room for argument. She didn't even allow
him reinforcement from the trusty but dusty box of condoms in his top drawer, instead pulled him
up and into her body.
Nick groaned at the sensation of being inside her. It was like coming home – warm and wet and
oh so tight. He couldn't control himself – it was as though he was that gangly fifteen-year-old boy
she'd met seventeen years ago. Gritting his teeth, he slowly pulled back, moaning in pleasure at
the damp grip of her inner muscles. Her breath hitched and he eyes practically rolled back in her
head she wrapped her legs around his lean hips. Over and over, they moved together and they
both lost themselves to each other that night as Nick guided them toward Nirvana. And when
Amelia came, with Nick's name on her lips, he wasn't very far behind, groaning her name as he
lost control, barely remembering not to tell her, "I love you."
TBC…
Title: Family
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: Thank you for last chapter's comments. It's nice to know the few that have taken the time to
Read & Review have enjoyed the story so far.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Pittsburgh (3 months later)
As was the norm in recent months, Nick sat in the solitary dimness of his apartment, briefs and
reports spread out before him, a forgotten beer growing tepid on its coaster by his elbow. He had
barely taken the time to reheat himself last night's dinner after the courier service had delivered
him yet another batch of documents at eight p.m.
That was three hours ago. But he didn't realize the time. He was too engrossed in hammering out
the deal – crossing his T's and dotting his I's – for yet another big-wigged company to notice
anything as insignificant as time passing by.
He was desperately trying not to think of *her* - Amelia. She who invaded his every waking and
sleeping dream, whose voice was constantly on his mind. Whose lips he constantly ached to
taste. Whose rock in the past three months, he had been for her to constantly cling to after her
divorce papers had been delivered three months ago.
He tried not to think of that day when he had personally flown to New York to deliver the papers
to Freddie. He had not called to say he was coming, so neither Freddie not Amelia knew he was
coming. Instead, he had waited patiently for his cousin to see him, seated by the infamous Ms.
Skinner herself.
When Freddie had finally deigned to see him, what followed had not been pretty – a typical
explosion of the Fallin temper – name calling, cussing, threatening… classic. As usual around
Cousin Freddie, he lost his temper and was not much of a help to Amelia.
When he finally paid a visit to the brownstone later that day (after he had gotten his temper under
strict control again, of course), she had taken it all in stride, although she had been unable to look
him in the eye when he told her that indeed Freddie had seemed all too happy to accept the
papers. She was so strong it awed him – how could this woman, who had devoted the better part
of sixteen years of her life to a man wholly undeserving of it, be so cool and so collected in the
face of the dissolution of her marriage?
To this day he still didn't know; couldn't come to close to comprehension. She was still an
enigma, no matter how close they had gotten in the past three months – and she was still
attractive as hell!
Nick groaned and gave up the pretense of concentrating on work. He took a sip of his warm beer
and grimaced at the bitter taste. He glanced at his watch and rubbed his face in fatigue – it was
after 11. **Might as well try to get some semblance of sleep. Court bright and early tomorrow
morning. Whoop-ti-doo!** he thought sarcastically, rising from his chair.
It was raining out, he realized as he trashed the beer bottle and the remains of his Chinese take-
away dinner. For a few seconds, he stared mesmerized at the crystalline raindrops falling like
tears from the sky. He was so engrossed, he only absentmindedly realized that someone was
pounding the hell out of his front door.
**What the hell?** he mused wondering who the heck would be pounding on his door at this time
of the night. He yanked the door open and stared.
She stared back at him. Raindrops sluicing down her face and plastering her dark hair to her
skull. Her clothes were soaked and she was breathing hard. Although she was completely wet, he
could tell she was crying. She stared at his surprised face like a woman on a mission. Stepping
directly into his personal space, she watched his blue eyes widen before she slipped a cold hand
behind his neck and brought his lips down to meet hers.
Nick was frozen in shock before his body's instinctive reaction took over and he dragged her
closer to him, deepening the kiss in the process. Of their own accord his hands slipped under the
wet wool of her sweatshirt, stroking the cool smooth skin beneath. She bucked in his arms, her
pelvis rubbing against groin as his fingers encountered a sensitive spot in the small of her back.
"Nick," she sighed, breaking the kiss and tilting her had back to give his better access to the
smooth column of her throat.
Nick looked up, his blue eyes smoky with desire. "Are you sure?"
Amelia meet his gaze, her eyes equally smoky and desirous. Her silence was his answer.
Ever so gently, Nick scooped her up in his arms and kicked the door shut behind him. He quickly
padded down the length of the hallway to his bedroom before gently depositing her in the middle
of the crisp cotton sheets on his bed. He took the time to stare at her, sitting up on her elbows,
her wet hair spread out on the sheets. He said nothing.
"Touch me…" she commanded softly, never breaking eye contact. "Touch me, Nick," she
repeated. "I'm not going to break."
Reverently he stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Slowly he kissed her eyes,
cheeks, ears and finally her mouth before he reached for the hem of the sweatshirt and lifted it
over her head. The white t-shirt that lay beneath soon followed until the top half of her body was
clothed only in a lacy black brassiere. His breath hitched as he took in her small firm breasts
straining against the cups, her skin a luscious ivory against the stark black. She lifted her hips
and let him slide the track bottoms past her hips, reveling in the aroused glint in his eyes as he
took in the matching bikini bottoms. Next came her socks and her shoes until she lay clad in
nothing but her skimpy underwear.
Goose pimples started to dot her skin and he cursed himself for his inconsideration. Leaving her,
he quickly returned with a towel and lifting her, up he rapidly rubbed the towel into her skin, drying
and warming her as best he could, until her surprisingly strong grip fell on his wrist indicating he
could finish warm her up with his body. He took the deep kiss and playful nip against his throat as
his invitation to undress.
Never breaking her gaze, he pulled the white t-shirt over his head, reveling in the feminine
appreciation of the defined muscles of his stomach and biceps rippling beneath the smooth
golden skin. He was barefooted already, so he slowly unbuckled his belt wincing at the metallic
rasp of his zipper in the room where only the sound of the rain outside and Amelia's shallow
breathing could be heard. His pants joined his shirt, until he was standing before her, clad only in
white Calvin Klein boxer-briefs, his erection highly evident. He went to slip them off himself but
her thumbs, hooking into the waistband halted him.
Nick's stomach muscles contracted as she pressed a kiss just below his navel and swirled her
tongue in the delectable little whorl before slowly sliding them past his hips. As they dropped to
his feet, she stared at the object of her fascination before her gaze slid up to his eyes, enjoying
the boyish embarrassment in their depths.
Hooking her fingers in his, she lay back inviting him to follow. He meant to kiss every single part
of her body, revel in each moan, each breath, each squirm, but Amelia had no such ideas.
"Nick…" she moaned breathlessly as his tongue swirled around her nipple. "Now. I need you
now."
The look in her eyes – desperate and wanting – left no room for argument. She didn't even allow
him reinforcement from the trusty but dusty box of condoms in his top drawer, instead pulled him
up and into her body.
Nick groaned at the sensation of being inside her. It was like coming home – warm and wet and
oh so tight. He couldn't control himself – it was as though he was that gangly fifteen-year-old boy
she'd met seventeen years ago. Gritting his teeth, he slowly pulled back, moaning in pleasure at
the damp grip of her inner muscles. Her breath hitched and he eyes practically rolled back in her
head she wrapped her legs around his lean hips. Over and over, they moved together and they
both lost themselves to each other that night as Nick guided them toward Nirvana. And when
Amelia came, with Nick's name on her lips, he wasn't very far behind, groaning her name as he
lost control, barely remembering not to tell her, "I love you."
TBC…