His eyes narrowed as though he were trying to focus on some place in her spirit to see if she was lying or not. He must have decided her depths were too dark to even attempt to read, because he abruptly put the truck into Drive and pulled onto the road.
“Obviously the technicalities don’t mean anything to you. But they mean a hell of a lot to me,” he said coldly as he stared straight ahead and drove.
“You have no right to judge me,” Niall stated through a throat choked with emotion.
She gasped when he braked so hard that her seat belt locked and her head flung forward, spilling her hair in her face. He turned toward her, muscles coiled like a big cat about to pounce.
“I have
every
right to judge you. You lied to me. Don’t you think most guys would want to know that the woman they were in a relationship with just happened to be married?” he thundered.
“Is that what you thought, Vic? That we were in a relationship?”
For several tense seconds neither of them took a breath. Niall could tell by the expression on his face that Vic hadn’t liked her question at all. She took advantage of his temporary discomposure.
Her eyes scoured his face, entreating him to respond from some place other than anger. Surely if he was this furious at her, it meant that he wasn’t completely immune to her. Didn’t it?
“Because the thing of it is,” she continued shakily, “neither one of us really ever spoke of it last year. I thought maybe for you it was just about the sex.”
“Who said it wasn’t?” he asked, his lips curling contemptuously.
“I thought
you
were,” Niall said quietly, refusing to let him escape her gaze. “Just now. Why else would you feel so hurt that I’d betrayed your trust?”
Her words seemed to reverberate around the cab, causing the already potent tension between them to increase exponentially. Vic’s face looked rigid with anger. Niall made a startled sound of surprise when he abruptly flipped the car back into Drive and stomped on the accelerator. She wasn’t sure what to make of his almost frightening intensity as they sped down the road in silence.
Gravel popped loudly beneath the wheels of the truck when he made a tight turn into the long drive to the farm. It continued to fly frenziedly as they raced up to the spot right in front of Vic’s cottage. He switched off the ignition and got out of the truck so fast that Niall was stunned.
She just stared at him wide-eyed when he flung open the passenger door a second later.
“Come on,” he ordered tersely. “If you need reminding of what was between us for a brief, nearly forgettable relationship of convenience last year, I’ll be happy to remind you. I’ve got nothing better to do tonight since you ruined my date. Why are you looking at me like that?” he queried viciously as he leaned over her and unsnapped her belt. He grabbed her hand and pulled until Niall practically fell out of the cab. She hit the hard, ungiving weight of his body with a gentle thud. “This is what you showed up uninvited on my farm for this summer, isn’t it, Niall?”
She winced at the impact of his words. Maybe Vic thought the flash of pain related to the fact that he’d just pulled her onto the gravel when she wasn’t wearing shoes. He glanced down at her bare feet before he cursed under his breath. In one rapid, sinuous movement he swept her into his arms and slammed the truck door.
Vic charged into the cottage like a bull on the rampage. He never remembered being so worked up in his life. Even the time when he’d caught Jenny fucking Max Blake didn’t compare to this. He felt like the cap on the geyser of his emotion was about to pop off and the resulting gush was going to be explosive.
Fuck if he cared, he thought as he threaded Niall’s body through the narrow entrance of his front door before he shut it with a bang. Let it explode. He was sick of holding it in. Sick of watching from a distance while Niall pranced around his home wreaking havoc on his peace of mind, being forced to observe the way sunlight reflected on the golden waves of her hair when she returned from her morning walk, or being held captive at the dinner table while her big eyes ran over him hungrily with the same effect as a flickering tongue. Did she think he was superhuman, that he actually could endure the torture of walking away when her long legs were spread as wide as they could go, the way they had been that one damnable evening in the living room, maddening him with the memory of what it had been like to be between those thighs with his cock buried in her while Niall made those sexy whimpers in her throat—
That excruciating ordeal was over, Vic thought as he set Niall’s ass down on his kitchen counter and spun her until she faced him. He ignored her stunned expression as he roughly raised her dress and parted her slender legs, wedging his hips between them. One hand spread on the outside of her thigh, refamiliarizing itself with the exquisite sensation of her silky skin. He pushed forward on her lower back until her opened pussy perched just off the counter. His mouth found her neck, where he lightly licked her pearls and then scraped his teeth against her tender skin.
She quaked in his arms.
His throbbing erection pressed into her warmth at the same moment that he sank his head to find the longed-for nectar of her mouth. He grunted in satisfaction when his tongue dipped into her honeyed cavern, striking thirstily again and again. Niall moaned shakily into his mouth. Her hands came up to clutch tightly at his shoulders. She began to rub her tongue sinuously against his, making his lust swell into a frothing fury.
He had thought their first joining—and many times since then—had been maddened. But Vic knew right then and there that he’d never known what a sexual frenzy was until that moment. Consequently his actions, if not forgivable, weren’t too surprising when Niall suddenly twisted her head and pushed back on his shoulders. He palmed her delicate jaw and turned her back so that he had access to her mouth again, patently refusing her denial of him.
“
No
,
Vic
,” she whispered hoarsely, her fragrant breath flowing across his seeking lips. “Not like this. I wanted to explain to you—”
“I don’t want your explanations,” he said as he tilted his head and plucked at her juicy, lush lower lip. God, she tasted good. “I want to fuck you. And that’s
all
I want from you, Niall.” He ran his free hand from her waist up to her cloth-covered breast. He palmed the small, firm mound and squeezed as he watched Niall’s upturned face. His cock surged against his jeans like a caged animal furious to be free when a tiny whimper escaped her throat and her big eyes darkened with arousal.
“You want it, too. Don’t fight me.” He held her gaze as he lowered his hand to her hips and slid his fingers beneath her panties. He thought he might die if he didn’t get his fingers into her drenched, tight slit, with his cock soon to follow. She didn’t protest. In fact, Vic was pretty sure she didn’t breathe as he lifted her weight with an arm around her waist so that he could work the silk fabric beneath her bottom. When he touched a round ass cheek, he paused for a second, his nostrils flaring. She stared up at him as he caressed and then squeezed that taut package of flesh.
That was how they were posed—him lifting her slightly off his kitchen counter with Niall’s sweet little ass in his palm, the heat from her core resonating out to his fingers, beguiling him, when the sound of the screen door opening and loud knocking pierced his thick lust.
“Ignore it,” he ordered as he swept her panties below her bottom to her thighs, but the pounding on the door continued even more loudly after a pause. He saw Niall’s throat convulse as she swallowed.
“Vic, maybe you should . . .” Her voice faded uncertainly.
He closed his eyes briefly in a fairly useless attempt to get hold of himself.
“
Fuck,
” he muttered forcefully between clenched teeth. He panted like he’d just run a sprint. He almost cursed again, this time at Niall, when he backed away from her and she immediately hopped off the counter. She fumbled with her panties at the same time that her eyes skittered warily to his front door. Vic turned away abruptly when he caught the sight of pale blue panties and dark golden pubic hair before her dress fell into place.
He launched himself at the door.
“
What do you want?
” he asked Meg after he’d jerked open the front door several inches and saw who dared to get in his way when he’d just caught a glimpse of heaven.
“Did you pass Niall on the road? She said she wanted to walk home, so we dropped her off at the side of the road, but she should’ve been home by—oh, there you are! Is everything okay?” Meg asked when she glimpsed Niall behind Vic.
Vic was about to tell his sister that of course Niall was
okay
. Being horny as hell wasn’t a reason for concern, was it? He frowned when he glanced quickly back at Niall, however. True, her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, a telltale sign of her arousal that Vic recalled all too well. But those glowing cheeks shone with tears and her eyelids were puffy from prolonged crying. Despite his burning body and turbulent emotions, Vic was forced to acknowledge that Niall didn’t really look all that
okay.
“I’m all right,” Niall said hoarsely through a tremulous smile.
Meg glanced pointedly at Vic and Niall. “Well, I just wanted to check on you. I’ll go on up to the—”
“I’ll come up to the house with you,” Niall said swiftly. Her glance at Vic was far more uncertain. “Maybe . . . maybe we can finish talking tomorrow, Vic?”
It took him a few seconds to realize that Niall was trying to get past him and that he was blocking the way as if determined to keep her a prisoner.
Which he might have been considering on some caveman level. Vic couldn’t say for sure.
“Vic?” Niall prodded softly after she’d followed Meg out onto the front stoop and turned back, holding the screen door open with one hand. Meg had retreated to wait for her, standing next to the truck.
“Don’t go,” he said simply. Sweat slicked his body and his cock still felt like it would burst like a grape out of its own skin, it was so tight. If he couldn’t have her, Vic had concerns for his own sanity.
Pain flickered across her features. “I have to. I want to be able to explain things, Vic. You’re angry at me. It’s not right for us to . . . I’m sorry,” she fumbled in a whisper. “Maybe tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.
Vic examined her tear-stained face as she looked up at him. The sight pulled at him so hard it felt like something dislodged and fell with crushing impact deep inside of him. The suspicion that that nameless something was his brittle defense against Niall kicked up his tumult once again. He was just frustrated, horny, and confused enough to make her want to suffer as much as he was at that moment. He leaned forward and spoke in a low, cutting tone.
“The time for explanations and confessions has passed, Niall. But if you want to finish what we started here, you know where to find me.”
He shut the door with a brisk click, wishing like hell he hadn’t looked directly in her wide eyes as he’d done it.
That night Niall awoke from a restless sleep to hear thunder and rain lashing at the windowpane. She listened for several minutes, the sound of the thunderstorm unleashing its torrent upon the earth somehow soothing her hurt and confusion over what had happened with Vic.
An ear-piercing crack of thunder rattled the room, but Niall remained completely motionless, drowning in the deep wells of memory
Michael used to be so afraid of thunderstorms. After his fourth birthday Stephen had become impatient at the little boy’s crying in the middle of the night and his requests to get into bed with his parents.
“He’s too old to be sleeping with us! He’s too old to be behaving this way at all,” Stephen had once hissed at Niall, irritated at being awakened when he had such a full schedule at work the following day.
“He’s four years old,” Niall had responded incredulously. “I can’t imagine a more likely age
or
time for him to be afraid than when he’s alone during a frightening thunderstorm.”
She had gone and cuddled up with Michael on his little bed on several occasions while the storm raged outside. She had taught him the game of counting
one-one-hundred, two-one-hundred, three-one-hundred
after the flash of lightning to the onset of thunder in order to determine whether or not the storm was receding. She’d even told him that silly story about thunder being God bowling in heaven in order to get him to back away from his terror a little. It had worked and Michael had begun to laugh during the especially loud cracks of thunder, because it meant that God had bowled a strike.
Before he’d fallen asleep one night after she’d stayed with him during a storm—Niall thought it might have been the July before his death—he’d murmured groggily, “It’s only fun listenin’ to God bowling when you’re here, Mommy.”
Niall’s eyes clamped shut tightly at the poignant memory. An empty feeling welled up in her. Niall thought the origin of that familiar ache originated in her womb.
Her little boy . . . her precious little boy.
She cried softly while the storm wreaked havoc outside. Right before she fell asleep, she had the thought that it was better to cry for Michael awake than in her dreams. Mourning in her nightmares always had such a painful, panicked quality to it.
But tonight—despite everything that had happened with Vic—once she’d had her cry, Niall slept restfully, without dreams.
The sun rose the next morning on a fresh, ethereal world.
“What’s got you in such a perky mood this morning?” Meg asked as they carried plates and glasses to the breakfast table. Donny walked into the kitchen as Niall was distributing plates.
“How could I not be in a good mood? It’s absolutely gorgeous outside today. Hi, Donny, I didn’t know you slept over last night.”