He closed his eyes, only opening them when a small hand ghosted over his arm. “Livvy, she was thirteen. I felt like I had no choice.” On a practical level, even if Brendan cut Eve out, Nicholas would have taken care of her. But the damage would have been done. Young Nicholas hadn’t been able to bear the thought of Eve knowing Brendan viewed her as nothing more than a disposable pawn.
Hell, he still couldn’t bear to see his sister’s pain every time Brendan ignored or dismissed her. But their father’s negligence toward her was a step up from outright disowning, or so he told himself.
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I couldn’t.” A pleading tone had entered his voice, one he didn’t recognize. The Kanes had been as close to family as one could get, but Brendan had always been very careful about making sureno one but his wife and son saw the true extent of his coldness. “I didn’t know if you’d believe me and I didn’t want to make things harder than they had to be.”
She slowly moved her head from side to side. “I would have wanted you to tell me. I was so hurt after.”
She wanted to die.His heart thudded.
“I would have loved having a villain. Someone I could fight.” Livvy’s smile was tremulous. “I would have made you fight.”
“I don’t know if I could have fought,” he admitted, unable to hide the trace of shame in his words.
“I know,” she said, surprising him. “I get why you kept it from me. In hindsight, you probably made the right call. Either way, your family would have been destroyed like mine was. Present me finds that thought really terrible.”
“My family was destroyed anyway.” His voice was so guttural he could barely recognize it.
A tear leaked out. “It would have been worse.”
Her concern humbled him. Yes, this was the woman he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Soft and sweet and considerate, hiding under multicolored hair and a layer of pure steel. Nicholas took another step closer, until they were standing toe-to-toe. He dipped his head and breathed in her sweet, delicate scent. Vanilla cream.
He lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet at first, only their lips brushing against each other. He ran his palm over her cheek andangled her so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue sank into her mouth and she stood on her tip-toes, rubbing up against him.
Her mouth was criminally addictive. It always had been. He tilted her head back and kissed his way along the curve of her neck, finding the spot that revved her up. She writhed against him and he gripped her hips and backed her up against the tree, her hands falling to the rough bark. “Livvy,” he breathed.
“Yes,” she whispered, both consent and appreciation. She shrugged off her jacket. He licked her lips and brushed his tongue against hers, pulling it into his mouth to suck and lick at it. His hands slid over her back and bottom, pulling her close so his cock nestled into the cleft between her legs.
“I want to... right here.”
“Yes,” she whispered again. With a jump he had her hoisted between him and the tree, her legs wrapped around him and interlocking at the base of his spine. His hand rested against the bark, the scrape a harsh reminder that her delicate skin would get messed up if they actually fucked here.
He whirled around and fell to his knees with her still wrapped around him like a koala, and tumbled her down to the ground.
He couldn’t begin to count the number of times they’d made love right here, their bodies straining together under the sky, back in the days when they’d been so hungry they could barely keep their hands away from each other. Each time they’dcome together in some generic hotel room, part of his brain had been fantasizing that they were both right here.
Where they belonged.
He ripped at the buttons of his shirt, and she helped him before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. Her crop top—why wear half a top, he wasn’t sure—left her belly bared, but he shoved it up so he could get to her breasts, pulling her bra down so he could fondle her flesh.
He kissed his way down her neck, biting and sucking at the flesh at the hollow of her throat, knowing he was skirting the edge of pain, that he’d leave a mark.
Not caring.
He paused to strip her jeans down her legs, then her panties. “Sorry,” he panted, when the fragile silk came apart in his hands. “Is this—?”
“It’s fine. Just—yes. Yes, fuck me.”
He stopped when he was poised on the edge of penetration. He didn’t push his way inside her, but waited, teasing her lips with the tip of his cock. “I love this. This moment, right before I get inside you,” he said in a gravelly voice.
She ran her hands up his biceps and pulled at him, but he wasn’t budging. He dipped his cock inside, letting her wetness coat his flesh.
“Stop teasing me.”
Didn’t she get it? He wasn’t teasing her. Something momentous had shifted in his brain, some understanding that had taken ten years to get through his thick skull.
He’d made a terrible mistake. Clouded by grief and fear and yes, anger. He’d quit and thrown away someone he should have fought for.
