Depth Perception (32 page)

"Any idea why someone would do that?"

"I don't know. To protect themselves by diverting suspicion onto me. To get back at me for some perceived wrong. Because they're insane. All of the above."

"Did you have any enemies at that time? Did Ward?"

"No. But--”  Her gaze skittered away, and for the first time Nick got the feeling she hadn't told him everything.

"Nat, if you're holding something back ... "

She stared at him for an uncomfortable moment, then lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I dragged you into this. I guess I owe you the rest of it."

"Rest of what?"

The silence weighed heavily for several seconds. Nat fiddled with the folder, looking everywhere but at him. "Ward and I ... we'd been having some problems."

"What kind of problems?"

"Marital. There was . . . a distance between us I didn't understand."

"Did you argue?"

"No, we just .. ." She sighed. "It was like we were going through the motions. We didn't talk. We didn't share. We didn't ... connect the way I thought a husband and wife should. It was like there was a distance between us I couldn't seem to gap no matter how hard I tried."

"Do you have any idea why?"

She shook her head, looked away. "No."

But Nick sensed there was more. "Nat, talk to me," he said gently. "Get it out. It's okay."

When she raised her gaze to his, there were tears in her eyes. ''We hadn't .... been intimate for almost a year. He ... he'd had some sexual problems. It only happened a couple of times. I just figured it was stress. I mean, it happens. We were busy, and we just didn't talk about it." She lowered her head and rubbed the place between her eyes. "God, Nick, this feels wrong, talking about him like this. He was always a very private man."

"If he were here now, do you think he'd want you to get to the bottom of what really happened that night?"

Raising her head, she blinked away tears. "He was having an affair."

"With whom?"

"His administrative assistant at the church. Sara Wiley."

Nick shouldn't have been shocked. He'd known for a long time that people weren't always what they appeared. But Ratcliffe had been a minister. A man with a squeaky-clean reputation. Nick had always assumed Nat's marriage to him had been solid. Until now, she'd never given any indication that the relationship was troubled.

"Did the police know?" he asked. "Did they talk to her?"

"After the fact."

"Was she ever a suspect?"

Nat shook her head. "From what I understand, she was questioned, but never a viable suspect. I've met her several times. Nick, she's no killer."

"People have been known to snap."

"Not in this case. I think she loved him."

"What about her husband? Could he have done it?"

"Maybe. He has a temper. But I don't know ....”

"At the very least, both Sara and Reno are worth talking to."

Rising abruptly, she walked to the kitchen to stare through the window above the sink. Her shoulders were square, her chin high. But Nick could see it was only a facade. He knew better than to go to her. He knew touching her now would bring into the moment something neither of them wanted. But she was hurting in the worst possible way a human being could hurt. There was no way he could stand there and do nothing while she carne apart right before his eyes.

Shoving away from the table, he walked to the kitchen and stopped several feet from her. "Nat."

She didn't turn to him. "Even after three years it still hurts," she whispered.

"Healing from that kind of grief takes a long time."

Slowly, she turned to him. She hadn't turned on the light, and even in the dim light from the living room he could see that her eyes were ravaged. She wasn't crying, but he saw the bottomless well of grief. And because he understood all too well what that kind of pain could do to a person, he crossed to her and pulled her to him.

"I don't want to hurt anymore," she said.

"I know, 
chere.
"

"Make it stop."

She laid her head on his shoulder. He tightened his arms round her and stroked the back of her head. "I don't think I'm the right man to heal you."

She shouldn't have felt so good in his arms. Not when she was hurting and vulnerable and his own need for her was a sweet ache that grew with every beat of his heart. He was aware of every inch of her against him. The soft curve of her breasts against his chest. The solid press of her cleft against his pelvis. The sweet scent of her hair titillating his senses. The warm caress of her breath against his neck.

He was already hard, but it was a response he could no more control than he could the beat of his heart. Because he knew she could feel his shaft against her, he tried to pull back, to put a few inches of space between them, but she tightened her arms around him.

Nick closed his eyes and tried not to think about where this moment could lead or what it was doing to his resolve to stay away from her. She was everything that was decent and good in the world. A woman who'd been shattered by grief. Betrayed by a man she should have been able to trust and a town that should have stood by her. A woman who wanted to heal and was now reaching out to him ...

Only Nick didn't have anything to offer. He was flat broke and hollowed out by injustices and betrayals he hadn't been able to fight. But his need for her was insane  and pounded through his body like a sledgehammer driving a nail. He wanted badly to believe the sensations coursing through him were about sex. That all he needed was one good fuck and he would be able to walk away and not look back.

But he knew his feelings for her went deeper than physical. He knew if he gave in to those feelings, they would cost him. He knew it was a price he didn't want to pay. Intellectually, he knew Nat was nothing like Tanya. But the grief would not let him forgive. The bitterness would not let him forget.

"Being with me isn't going to make the pain go away," he said.

"This doesn't have to be about pain.”

Heart raging beneath his ribs, he grasped her arms and shoved her to arm's length. "I'm not what you need right now," he ground out. "I can't help you heal. I don't have anything to give you. I'm hollow inside, Nat."

Her eyes were huge and fraught with all the things he didn't want to see. Pain. Need. The hope that one would assuage the other. She was standing so close he could feel the puffs of her breaths against his face. "If you were empty, you wouldn't hurt, Nick. I see you hurting as clearly as I feel my own heart beating.”

Never taking her eyes from his, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth against his. Nick stiffened, ready to pull back. But the quick shock of pleasure was like a bolt of electricity that shot through his body and exploded in every nerve ending. His control shattered. Making a low sound in his throat, he put his hands on either side of her face and tilted her head to him.

"It's been six goddamn years since I've been with a woman," he growled. "Don't expect me to stand here and tell you I don't want you."

''Then don't."

He took her mouth with a violence that wrenched a gasp from her, but Nick didn't stop. He didn't think about consequences or right or wrong. It was as if a starving beast had been unleashed inside him. A beast that had been beaten and deprived, and then given a bounty so lush and rich he would never be able to consume all of it.

He kissed her hard and long. When that was no longer enough, he used his tongue and kissed her some more. She made a sound in her throat at the intrusion, but he didn't give her the chance to change her mind. For the first time in a long time, Nick didn't think. He crossed the point of no return at the speed of light and didn't look back.

He could only hope this moment didn't cost both of them something they couldn't afford to lose.

Chapter 24

The kiss was raw and primal and blatantly sexual. It took her breath away. It told her things about Nick Bastille that he didn't want her to know. Things that, until now, she'd only been able to guess.

He wasn't a tentative kisser. He wouldn't be a tentative lover. He knew what he wanted and made no bones about taking it. Right now, he wanted his mouth on hers, his hands on her body. He was bold and sure of himself, and all Nat could do was kiss him back and hang on for the ride.

His body was like carved granite against her. She could feel the hard shaft of his erection against her belly, her womb fluttering in response. That she was capable of feeling something as complex--as simple--as sexual arousal surprised her. For months, she'd been certain that that part of her was as cold and empty as the rest of her. But Nick had proved to her that she wasn't dead inside. That she was very much alive and every bit as capable of feeling joy as she was pain.

She opened to him, let him inside her mouth, and her tongue warred with his. He groaned, a sound of pure male need, and a surge of feminine power engulfed her. His hands slipped beneath her sweatshirt. A gasp that was part shock, part pleasure escaped her when he cupped her breasts. Her back arched when he took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently squeezed.

The pleasure was maddening. Nat could feel the heat of desire between her legs now. Blood pounding like a drum in her womb. Her panties were wet, and she realized with some surprise that even though he hadn't touched her there, she was already on the verge of orgasm.

When she'd initiated the kiss, she hadn't been sure where it would lead. In the back of her mind, she'd thought she would stop before things went too far. She hadn't expected his kisses to sweep her away. Or his hands to set her body on fire.

He lifted her sweatshirt. His mouth left hers. She opened her eyes, and then his mouth was on her breast. She cried out when he began to suckle, first her left breast then her right. She could feel her body responding, softening, weeping for the release only he could give her.

She closed her eyes against the burst of sensation. Her head lolled back. The ache in her breasts was almost painful in its intensity, building to a crest, taking her to a very sharp edge, but never over.

He moved lower, pressing his hand flat against her stomach. His palms were warm and rough against her skin. Then he was unfastening the button of her jeans. Nat knew she should stop him before things went too far. She wasn't ready for this. Wasn't ready for the things she knew he would make her feel, both emotionally and physically. But the need was ripping through her, tearing down her resistance, her control. All the while he made love to her mouth with his, dazing her senses so that she couldn't think. Vaguely, she was aware of him lowering her zipper, her jeans being tugged downward.

Turning her head slightly, she broke the kiss. "I-I don't think I can ... do this," she panted.

His eyes glittered with intensity when he looked at her. "Your place is with the living, Nat, not with the dead."

When she tried to look away, he put his hand beneath her chin and forced her gaze to his. He was breathing hard, as if he'd just run a mile. She could feel the tension humming through his body and into hers. A current that flowed like electricity between them.

 "Life doesn't have to be about pain," he said.

The words brought tears to her eyes. More than anything, Nat wanted the pain to stop. She wanted to move forward with her life. She wanted a future. "Show me," she whispered.

Leaning close, he kissed her like she'd never been kissed in her life. Nat let him explore her with his tongue. She jolted when she felt his hand against her pelvis. Never taking his mouth from hers, he tugged down her panties, and she kicked them off. She whimpered when his hand moved over her mound. She opened to him, and he slipped two fingers between her folds. Nat cried out, but he swallowed the sound.

Pleasure zinged like a bullet inside her brain when he began to stroke. Waves building and threatening to crest. Nat hadn't wanted their first time to happen this way. She was traditional when it carne to lovemaking. She wanted to make love to him in the bedroom under cover of darkness. She wanted him on top of her, their completion to happen simultaneously. "Wait," she said between breaths. "Together."

"Next time," he said.

She caught a glimpse of his eyes, dark and shuttered. An instant later his fingertip found the small kernel. She tried to resist, but the high wire pleasure wrenched a cry from her.

Vaguely, she was aware of her legs opening. Her body going liquid around his fingers. Those fingers taking her to a precipitous edge and a fall that would be fatal.

"Let go," he whispered.

She wanted to say something that would let him know she was in control of the situation. But Nat knew she was only fooling herself. She hadn't been in control of a damn thing since the moment he'd touched her.

The pleasure burgeoned to a sweet ache that left her insides quivering. A knot drawn to an inexorable snap. She could feel her entire body shaking. Sweat heating her skin. His kisses were like an addictive narcotic, one she would never get enough of. All the while he stroked her with those magical fingers. She moved with him, curling her spine to take him more deeply.

And then suddenly her body was no longer her own. It moved independently of her brain. She could feel herself coming apart, her hips moving quickly. A long, slow cry tearing from her throat as the pleasure burst and scattered inside her.

"Nick! Oh, God!"

Her body was still spasming when he gripped her hips and swung her around and onto the counter. He stepped between her knees. Her gaze snapped to his, and for the first time since she'd known him. his eyes were unshuttered. Within their depths she saw the breadth and width of his feelings for her. The deep well of vulnerability. The heat of a passion she'd never before known. The reflection of her own heart.

"In the bedroom," she whispered.

"Here," he said. "And the bedroom."

Never taking his eyes from hers, he unfastened his jeans. Nat gasped at the sight of his jutting sex. Ward was the only man she'd ever been with. He'd been a gentle lover ....