“Careful,” I retorted, jabbing my food with my fork, “you’re starting to sound a lot like Sebille Fenwick and her fanatical pals.” My hands stilled the moment I said it, not needing to turn around to know how much my words had cut him—I felt it in the air. But he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until the dishes were cleared away and all evidence of breakfast disposed of that Nicky spoke again.
“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He leaned a hip against the counter and regarded me with a frown. “You know, in the bedroom.”
I froze, my stomach plummeting. “What?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far.”
I let out a shaky, nervous little laugh and waved away his comment, trying to act nonchalant, especially in light of my misstep a moment before. “Don’t worry about it.”
Seriously. Please don’t worry about it. . . .
“No, I owe you an apology,” he went on, shaking his head a little. “You were vulnerable and I took advantage of that.”
“No, no, Nicky,” I said quickly. “Really, I—”
“Hell, I’m just sorry, Trish,” he said on a sigh. “It was an asshole thing to do. Won’t happen again.”
My shoulders sagged, wondering if we’d be having a different conversation about what had taken place if I hadn’t just compared him to his wife’s murderer. “Right.”
He shook his head again as if he was completely disgusted with his behavior. “I just . . . I think I’ve been getting in your head for so long, I feel like I know you.”
“I know the feeling,” I muttered.
“The thing is,” he continued, “I’ve been coming on to you since that night in your apartment, and I had no right. Not when I’m getting the hell outta town as soon as this shit is over. It’s not fair to you. I wasn’t good enough for you the day I met you, Trish—and I’m sure as hell not good enough for you now.”
I shook my head, confused. “On the day you met me?”
He nodded. “That day we came over. I saw you lying there in that field and there was something . . . I don’t know. I felt a connection when you looked at me, doll. It was like nothin’ I’d ever felt before or since. Hell, you probably don’t even remember.”
Was he kidding?
“I remember,” I breathed.
His brows lifted and a smile teased at the corners of his mouth, but he quickly shoved it away, resuming his scowl. “Yeah, well, I wanted you so bad at that moment, wanted to keep feelin’ that way, I didn’t even think before I asked you to come with me. I just . . . I just wanted to hang on to that. But when you refused so damned politely, I realized you deserved a helluva lot more than some two-bit thief could offer. You still do. ’Cause when you get down to it, Trish, I’m still the same guy I was that day.”
“Good,” I said, my heart hammering at his confession.
His brows flinched together. “What?”
I closed the distance between us in a few quick steps and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him to me and pressing a hard, hungry kiss to his mouth. When he abruptly broke the kiss and looked down at me, he was panting, his pupils dilated with desire and wide with disbelief at the same time.
“Trish,” he stammered, “I—”
“Shut up, Nicky,” I interrupted. “And kiss me again.”
He didn’t need any urging. And soon we were easing down onto the kitchen floor. I remember that the terra-cotta tile was cold against my back, but then all other thoughts ceased except for the feel of Nicky’s hands skimming across my skin, the warmth of his body as it pressed against mine, the pleasure he brought me as we made love there on the kitchen floor. As rough as the sex had been earlier, I was surprised at how gentle he now was, how tender and loving was each caress.
At some point we ended up back in the bedroom and when we finally collapsed into each other’s arms, I still found myself wondering if I was trapped in some wonderful, blissful dream and if any moment I would wake up and realize that I was still alone, cold and lonely, in my own little bed in my apartment.
Nicky pressed a kiss to my shoulder and then peered down at me, his brow furrowed. I reached up and cupped his cheek, smoothing my thumb across his skin.
“Hey there,” he said. “Welcome back.”
“Sorry?”
“You drifted away from me there for a minute,” he explained. “Where’d you go?”
I sighed. “Got lost in my thoughts, I guess.” I ran my fingertips along the tattoo at his shoulder, then, suddenly seeing the picture in the design, I blinked at him in dismay. “This is a spider.”
He nodded. “Took a helluva long time to get the damn thing to stay. My Tale body kept trying to heal it before the guy could finish.”
“So, why a spider?” I asked. “You’re not taking the nickname the Agency has given you that seriously, are you?”
Nicky grinned. “They didn’t give me that nickname. That’s what I told them to call me.”
I shook my head, confused. “Sorry—what?”
“When I figured out that they were on to me, I decided to leave them a little calling card and signed it The Spider.”
“But why?”
“I guess I’ve thought of myself that way for a while now,” he sighed, lying back against his pillow with his arm behind his head. “I mean, I frightened Miss Muffet away on my first day in the Here and Now, didn’t I?”
My heart hopped up into my throat, making it hard for me to get my voice past it to ask, “So the tattoo, it was . . .”
“It was a reminder,” Nicky finished. “A reminder of everything I wanted and didn’t deserve.”
“Oh, Nicky,” I breathed. “You don’t understand. I didn’t say no to you that day because I thought I was too good for you or because I was afraid of you. I—”
The doorbell suddenly sounded, cutting me off.
“Who the hell got past my gates?” Nicky mumbled. He pressed a kiss to my lips, then threw back the covers. “Stay here, doll. I’m going to go see who it is.”
I grinned as he strolled, naked, toward the bedroom door. “You might want some pants, lover.”
He gave me a wink. “Don’t think the Bible thumpers want to get a good look at this?” he asked, sweeping his arm down his torso.
I giggled and lobbed one of the pillows at him. “Put some clothes on and see who’s at the door. Then you’d better get that fine ass back in here. I’m not done with you yet.”
His brows shot up as the doorbell rang again. “Well, that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
I was still grinning when I heard the thunderous pounding on the front door. “Damn,” I muttered. “Insistent little bastards.”
I heard Nicky open the front door and then male voices. I sat up, listening intently, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. Then there was a loud crash and a chorus of shouts.
“What the hell?” I muttered, throwing off the covers and grabbing a shirt and pair of pajama pants from my suitcase. I raced down the stairs, not giving a shit what might be waiting for me. My only concern was for Nicky’s safety.
When I reached the bottom of the steps, I slid to a halt, quickly assessing the situation. Four FMA agents were laid out on the ground, two of them apparently unconscious. Another three were pinning Nicky against the wall, while another tried to put handcuffs on him.
My God—they’d sent eight agents? What the fuck?
I raced forward, grabbing one of them by the scruff of the collar and jerking him away. “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
The guy I’d grabbed pivoted and took a swing at me, but I ducked his arm and came up swiftly, pinching each side of his trachea with my fingers, cutting off his air just enough to quiet him down. “Somebody explain this shit right fucking now!”