He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. New Year’s Eve, when he’d gotten too drunk on shots of vodka to care that he’d just challenged a telekinetic to a game of strip darts. Nick’s gaze on his body had been a triumph and a torment, proof that she wanted him even if he couldn’t bring himself to take her.
Too little, too late.
Derek banished the thought, rolled onto his back and reached for her. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
She came to him, her mouth and hands hot and eager. Foil crinkled as she pressed the condom into his hand and bit his neck.
His hands fumbled. He felt too clumsy, too frantic, but there was no way to slow down. She kissed him so hard he wanted to drown in it, and it wasn’t until he had the condom on and his fingers wrapped around her hips that he really believed it was the last time.
Nick hovered over him, her mouth on his. She started to speak but kissed him again and angled her hips down over his in a smooth rock that brought him deep inside her.
Thought shattered. The woman of his dreams was over him, riding him, and it was so fucking perfect all he could do was clutch her waist and whisper her name.
She rode him, her hands braced on his stomach and her head thrown back. Her movements were slow at first, silent until her breath began to escape in pants and moans. Every roll of her hips was more intense than the last, until she was digging her nails into his skin and gasping his name.
Derek ground his teeth together and slid his fingers between her legs. “That’s it, baby. Come on…”
She came as soon as he touched her. A desperate, shuddering cry tore free of her, and she jerked against his hand as she tightened around his cock. Pleasure turned sharp as the need to give in clawed at him, but he dug his teeth into his lower lip and took over the rhythm of their movements.
Her eyes snapped open as a second orgasm shook through her, and she leaned forward to bite his chin. “Please,” she whispered, her voice husky with pleasure. “Derek—”
He wanted to hold on. For minutes, for hours… Forever. His body betrayed him with her next whimpering cry, and the world swam in hazy pleasure as he came with her name on his lips.
Nick wrapped her arms around him and tucked her head against his shoulder. It took a while for her to speak, and she still sounded breathless. “Will you stay tonight?”
It would prolong the agony, but he didn’t know how to say no. So he stroked her hair back and prayed he’d be strong enough to walk away in the morning. “Of course.”
Chapter 15
They were keeping her sister in a fucking dungeon.
Nick plastered a bland look on her face. She couldn’t afford to have the guards report her reactions to the Conclave, not if she expected them to believe she was approaching the entire matter as a rational member of their society and not an angry, emotional sister.
Michelle saw through her. Her tiny smile was tired but real. “They let us stay together. Thank you for making that happen.”
Aaron wore the carefully impassive expression he’d cultivated over years of service to the Conclave. Nick touched his arm. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I may not know anything yet, but I’ll be by to visit.”
“Thank you, Nicole.” His gaze found hers. For one brief moment, she saw that same resignation from the day at the safe house, the day he’d told her he was going to die. “Do you think you could talk your father into sending down some fruit for Michelle?”
“Aaron.” Michelle gave him an exasperated look. “I’m not sure pregnancy cravings are top priority at the moment.”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Maglieri.” Enrica would be flattered by the deference. “I’ll take care of it.” One of the guards nodded to her, and Nick stifled a sigh. “I have to go now. Sleep well tonight.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, and both guards flanked her as she headed for the door. It swung open to reveal not only Mahalia but also a tall man loitering nervously in the hallway. He looked like Alec, only older and softer, and Nick wanted to run in the opposite direction. “Mr. Jacobson.”
“Nicole.” He rubbed a hand over his hair and smiled at her. “It’s so nice to see you back in New York.”
It’s nice to be here. The expected words hung in her throat, and she couldn’t resist a subtle dig. “Thank you. Alec sends his regards.”
The barb hit. He stiffened and shot a dirty look at Mahalia, who favored him with a sweet smile. “So I’ve been told.”
“He’s a good friend.” Nick ignored her own revulsion and took his hand in hers, patting it. “Like the brother I never had.”
“Oh. That’s…” His smile turned sickly. “I promised Jorge I’d meet him for dinner, so I have to run. Good luck with your…petition.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jacobson.”
He rallied enough for one last retort. “I’m sure you’ll be joining us for dinner tomorrow night at the Ochoas’ penthouse. Jorge’s sons were looking forward to seeing you again.”
The reminder of her true worth in their society brought goose bumps to her flesh. “They’re charming men,” she managed to say, “just like their father.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond. When she turned away, Mahalia grasped her arm. “Come on, honey. I’m taking you back to your daddy’s place.”
“It’s not far, May. I can manage on my own.”
“Shush.” They reached the end of the hall, and Mahalia called the elevator. “You need a break from the maneuvering, and I need a friendly face.”
They didn’t speak again until they’d made it up to the ground floor, through the lobby and out into the fading sunlight. A breeze whipped some of Nick’s hair free of its awkwardly secured bun, and she gripped Mahalia’s arm tightly. “I thought it would be hard.”
“What?”
“Coming back here.” Except that wasn’t quite right. “No. I wondered if I’d even remember how things worked up here, but it’s like second nature.”
Mahalia huffed. “First nature is more like it. Good or bad, you were raised in this, Nicole. This is what you know.”
“I guess.” People hurried past them as they strolled down the street toward the park. “It sucks to realize I belong with a bunch of power-hungry vultures.”
“Didn’t say you belonged here.” Mahalia wrinkled her nose. “I think you belong down in Louisiana with that boy of yours, and the quicker you can get back, the better.”
Nick shouldn’t have been so damn cold in a long-sleeved shirt and blazer. “I’m not going back to New Orleans, May.”
Mahalia stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and grasped Nick’s shoulders. “You can’t mean that.”
It was the one thing she hadn’t let herself consider, but it had become tragically apparent after only a few hours in New York. The other Conclave members weren’t interested in any agreement she made with Enrica. Most of them had strong sons who wanted to lead, and much more to gain from having them married into the Peyton line than from having Nick out of the way. It was a more traditional route to power than scrambling after the end of a former Alpha’s legacy, and Conclave members could be depended on to prefer tradition over nearly anything else.
Nick had no choice but to go along with it. Her agreement with Enrica meant nothing if the rest of the Conclave refused to support it, and the only way to leverage a better outcome for Michelle was to have them all vying for her favor. They’d go out of their way to please her if it meant she might accept a marriage proposal, and that potential for leniency offered the best chance Michelle and Aaron had at happiness.
Mahalia was still staring at her, bewildered, and Nick averted her eyes. “Going back to Louisiana isn’t an option for me. That’s what Alec’s dad was talking about when he mentioned Ochoa’s sons. My value here is tied to marriage. To—to breeding. It’s the only thing I have to bargain with.”
Mahalia ground her teeth together. “Did you tell Derek Gabriel that?”