Underneath It All Page 10

  “Oh, babe,” Devon groaned.

  “Nate is theirs, but I’m not.”

  He took her in his arms and held her close, and she pressed her face to his chest, wanting to block it all out.

  “If they’d told me as a child things would have been different. I wouldn’t have grown up thinking I was something I’m not. But they didn’t. They’d spent my lifetime leading me to believe I was their natural born child. They’d never given me the slightest clue. And then in one split second, when the doctor’s words put that horror in their eyes, I knew he hadn’t been mistaken. I wasn’t their child and everything I knew to be true was ripped out from under me.”

  “Nicole, I’m so sorry,” Devon said, brushing a hand down her hair and kissing the top of her head.

  She pressed a cheek more tightly against his chest, a sense of relief washing over her as she confessed her situation. Since she’d come to Atlanta she hadn’t talked much about it. She’d had her fill of talking back home. But for some reason, when it came to Devon, confessing her story felt like releasing a giant weight from her shoulders.

  “I’m hurt and angry,” she said. “But more than anything, I want my life back again. I’d tried dealing with all of this in California, talking it through with my parents, trying to understand why they did what they did. In their eyes, I am their daughter as if their blood ran through me. But I can’t brush off the gaping hole this has left. It’s like half of me is gone, and I don’t know where to find it.”

  “Is that why you’ve come here?”

  She nodded. “Apparently, this is where my birth family is, and at first, I’d thought if I found them, I’d complete the puzzle and be able to move on with my life.”

  “What did you find?”

  She let out a faint chuckle. “I’ve barely started to look. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s the feeling I’d be betraying Don and Betty. I thought I’d find the answers in this city, but since I’ve been in Atlanta all I’ve gotten is more confused.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  Lifting her chin, she looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry I’m dumping all of this on you, in front of your family no less. The talk of family heirlooms and such sort of got to me.” She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and swallowed back the others. “Being around you, I’d managed to bury the hurt and confusion, but sitting there with your family brought it all to the surface. I’m angry. And I don’t know how to take the anger away.”

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and pressed his lips to hers. “Shhhh,” he said. “Don’t worry about them.” Then he kissed her again, this time deeper, brushing his tongue over her lips and caressing away the pain.

  She sank into the embrace, loving the way he always managed to erase the troubles from her thoughts and replace them with a sense of peace. She circled his tongue with hers and brushed her hands up his back then down, pressing her waist against the growing bulge.

  He groaned in her mouth and pulled her closer, then whispered, “I’m sorry, Nic. I wish I could fix this for you.”

  Though he couldn’t fix her for good, she knew he could definitely fix her for now. He touched his lips to her cheek, down her neck and up to the tender spot below her ear, draining the tension from her muscles and swelling desire between her thighs.

  “I wish you could make love to me,” she whispered, and the gaze in his eyes told her he agreed.

  “The pool house,” he said.

  She moved her eyes to the cottage at his right. It looked to have been shut up for the winter, blinds closed over the windows and the planters at the entrance only now budding with young blooms.

  “Won’t they come looking?”

  “They’ll be busy yakking for hours.”

  And with a flick of his brow, he was off.

  8

  TAKING NICOLE’S HAND, Devon led her toward the door to the pool house and she noted his breath of relief when he tried the handle and found it unlocked. Glancing behind them, he pulled her inside then locked the door behind them.

  She barely caught a glimpse of a cozy kitchen and back room before he led her through the space and over to a sitting room. Leather couches surrounded a slate coffee table, one side wall housing a big screen television and stereo system which no doubt controlled speakers throughout the back yard. At another time she’d stop and gawk, but right now the urgent need for Devon inside her overshadowed everything else, and when he came to rest on the couch and tugged her down on top of him, she lost all interest in the house.

  Lifting her skirt, she came down over him, straddling his lap and taking his strong chin in her hands. “This is the best thing you can do for me,” she said, before lowering her mouth to his.

  His hands went to work unzipping the back of her dress then tugging it off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his warm hungry hands. His touch soothed her, his mouth caressed hers, and while he gently fondled her nipples, she clasped him firmly and drank in his moans.

  Off popped her bra and he quickly tossed it aside, bracing his hands against her ribs and lifting her breasts to his mouth. She gasped when he took one in, feeding on it like a man long past famished. She let her head fall back and she closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his tongue circling her nipple, his teeth grazing her breast, pushing more heat to her clit and draining the anger from her pores.

  This was what she needed, these moments of total release, the abandonment of everything but this man’s hands and body, pulling her back to the woman she once was. In Devon’s arms she existed in lust, her body alive with need, her spirit purified by the fire he lit in her belly. Gone was the confusion, the sense of unease, replaced with good old unadulterated passion. It wasn’t the answer to her problems. It didn’t erase the issues she had to sort out, but it did give her a momentary respite, a place she could go to escape, if only for this little while.

  She worked to unfasten his shirt buttons then spread the fabric off his shoulders and pressed her waist against his chest. She loved his chest, the muscled mass that contracted and contorted as he moved, the light dusting of hair that tickled her skin and swelled her insides. She loved feeling it against her, on top of her, or in the palms of her hands, and as she wriggled her navel against him, her pulse quickened.

  He moved his mouth to her other breast and began feasting, the sensation rippling through her draining the moisture from her mouth and placing it between her legs. She squirmed with need, her clit swelling to an ache, and though his mouth was doing wonders, she needed him inside.

  Lifting her skirt, she pulled aside the thong and guided his hand between her legs, enjoying the thrill of his deep groan when his fingers reached the slick heat between her folds. He pressed his mouth between her breasts and she cupped his head in her hands, kissing his forehead and arching her hips into his touch.

  “You’re so wet,” he whispered. “And I’m really hard.”

  She giggled. “How handy.” But her giggle transformed to a gasp when he brushed his thumb against her clit and slipped a finger inside.

  “This has to go,” he said, using his other hand to rip the thong from her waist, and when she was freed of all impediments, he went to work on his slacks, massaging her with one hand and exposing his stiff cock with the other.

  Never releasing his grasp on her, he wriggled his wallet out of his pocket and produced a condom like a magician pulls a quarter from behind a kid’s ear. She took the packet from his hand then sheathed his stiff length, her body throbbing from his touch and her fierce desire to get him inside.

  Harder and harder he circled his thumb around her clit, slipping a second finger inside and bringing her to the brink of orgasm while he used his tongue to tease the flesh between her breasts.

  “No,” she said, pulling his hand away. “I want to come over your cock.”

  Lacing her fingers through his, she held them at his sides, hovering over him like a captor ready to take on its prey. Their eyes met, his blue pools deepening to something dark and
erotic, and when she impaled her body on his thick shaft, he closed his eyes and swallowed as the sensation tore through him.

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s what I want.” And she began moving over him, pulling up then sinking back down, his body filling hers, closing the gap between her needs and desires, leaving her spirit whole for this brief moment of ultimate pleasure.

  “I love watching you slide inside me,” she said, pulling her dress over her head and tossing it to the ground. She lifted up so that the tip of his cock held just at the edge of her entrance then she used her fingers to part her folds, exposing the place where they joined, sinking slowly over him while they both watched his shaft disappear inside her core.

  “That’s so sexy,” he groaned, the fiery look of arousal in his eyes feeding her desire to let go and take risks.

  Up, she lifted, easing him out slowly then sliding back down, her clit twitching when it came in contact with the base of his shaft. Her body begged her to move faster, to pull and plunge them into a searing release, but this new feeling of control had become too arousing. She wanted to see where she could take it, how far she could push the limit before he lost it completely.

  “I like to touch myself here,” she said, shifting so she spread her folds with one hand and massaged her clit with the other. “Have you ever had a woman masturbate during sex?”

  “No,” he said in a voice hoarse with need. “I can do that,” he added, motioning to take over for her, but she stopped him.

  “Just watch me,” she whispered, the guttural pleasure building like the beat of a distant drum. She moved slowly, taking him in, stretching for him then pulling out, her breath growing heavier as she stroked herself toward climax. From her chest came a low hum, and she went with it, allowing every part of her body to take over, dismissing any caution her mind might have tried to conjure.

  Deeper she hummed until the sound took on more intent, the tone rising in unison to the sensation between her legs.

  “I can’t take much more,” Devon warned, his eyes displaying a sense of depth and urgency she’d never seen before, and when he grunted as if to hold on, she allowed herself to let go.

  The hum in her throat rose to a cry as she felt his shaft swell inside her. “Yes,” she begged. “Come inside me. Come now.”

  He laced his hands around her neck and drew his mouth to hers as her body fell into abyss, drinking in her cries as she jerked and convulsed around him. Black heat numbed her senses of everything but the climax that sped up her spine and stiffened her limbs.

  She braced her hands to his shoulders and quickened the pace, his face turning red against the pressure he tried to control.

  “Take it in,” he urged, pushing his cock deeper with every thrust, moving faster, growing bigger until a quick gasp told her he was there.

  She clenched her muscles tightly around him, pulling up and sinking down, drawing out her own orgasm while she watched him succumb to his.

  “Ah,” he cried out, as he gripped her waist and held her steady while his hips jutted against hers. The sensation snatched the wind from her lungs, her body riding his wave as he bucked and jerked.

  “Oh, Nic—oh,” he groaned, spilling himself inside her.

  In that moment they were one, hearts beating in rhythm, blood pulsing in tune. His breath was her breath, the line between them shattered, no way of telling where his spirit ended and hers began.

  And there, Nicole felt total peace.

  No past, no future, no needs and no responsibilities, just two souls moving together in this utopia of physical satisfaction. Somehow, he’d managed to reach in and pull out a woman she’d never seen. A woman she liked and hoped to see more of, and she couldn’t help but wonder what else she’d find in the arms of Devon Bradshaw.

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU tricked me into coming here,” Nicole grumbled from her seat behind the visitor’s dugout at Turner Field. “And the Braves are playing the Dodgers, no less.”

  “It was the only way I could get you to root for the Braves,” Devon said. “Pitch them up against the Giants biggest rival.”

  “I’ll admit, the only thing I find worse than the Braves would be the Dodgers. But I’m not rooting for anything more than a good game.”

  She took a bite of one very messy Bratwurst and attempted to lick her lips, but failed miserably. Ballpark dogs most definitely weren’t the thing to eat if a girl was trying to impress a date by remaining quaint. Though she’d passed on the onions—hoping that sacrifice would come in handy later—she still had trouble keeping the mustard and sauerkraut in the bun where it belonged.

  Using his napkin, Devon reached over and wiped a stray dot of mustard from the corner of her mouth, and it struck her how quickly the two had fallen into ease with each other.

  “You have to admit, these are good dogs,” he said.

  She flashed him a reluctant grin before confessing, “Okay, I’ll give you that.” And with a sigh, she added, “And I’ll admit this is a pretty nice ballpark.”

  “Pretty nice?”

  “Work with me here. You’ve dragged an avid Giants fan to a Braves-Dodger game. Take what you can get, because this is all over the moment the crowd goes into its thirteenth round of the tomahawk chop.”

  He smiled. “You mean you’ll give me the first twelve?”

  “Only because it’s a beautiful day and you’re not bad to look at.”

  “Wow,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “So many compliments. Be careful not to swell my ego.”

  Leaning in close, she whispered, “I have more fun swelling other parts of Devon Bradshaw.”

  “Easy, there’s seven more innings in this game.”

  “We may only make a couple more, unless somewhere in this carnival there’s a place to go for a quickie.” Flicking a brow, she added, “How’s the security in this place?”

  “They’d make our park ranger look like a standup comedian.”

  “Ouch.”

  The pop of a bat drew their attention back to the game. Sitting behind the dugout, one had to keep an eye on foul balls that could come whipping past, but this particular hit was a high fly out to center field, easily caught by a player she didn’t recognize.

  “You know,” Nicole said, “when you picked me up in Gabe on this beautiful day with the top down, I’d thought for sure we were heading back out of town for a second try at that vista point.”

  Devon took a bite of his hot dog then washed it down with a gulp of soda. “I’d rather not spend my evening in a jail cell. Besides,” he added with a frown, “I thought you liked baseball.”

  “I do,” she replied. “And in all honesty, I am a little surprised I’ve been in Atlanta almost a year and have yet to come check out the park. Heck, even Nate’s given me a hard time about that one.”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  Taking another bite of her bratwurst, she took the moment to consider then shrugged. “Too busy, I guess. And in a way, baseball was always kind of a family thing for me.” She smiled at the thought. “Funny, how without my family around, I sort of lost interest in the game. And for my whole life, it was such a huge part of our upbringing.”

  She scanned the park, the familiar crisscross pattern of the outfield grass, the murmur of conversation that melded into a soothing, almost meditative hum. The malty smell of beer and the smoky aroma of barbecue, the echo of the announcer’s voice calling over the loudspeakers. The warm soak of the afternoon sun on a bright spring day. All these things came together in that familiar feel of home, no matter what the venue or who was playing.

  “All my life, my dad had season tickets. Four of them. It was the substitute for our annual vacation. Mom, dad, Nate and me had gone to countless games dating back to the frigid days of Candlestick Park.” She smiled and in her heart, she felt the tug of something loved and lost.

  “Those were really the days, back in the eighties when the Giants sucked and the park was cold and horrible. We practically had the place to ourselv
es. And you can bet there weren’t many corporate seats back in those days. Only real baseball fans came out to the park then, but for me, it wasn’t about watching my team win or shivering under a blanket. It was our family time. It was at the games when we really talked, shared our secrets and confessed our sins.” Chuckling, she added, “I learned how to break bad news to my parents. Wait for a base hit. And if I wanted something, like a new stereo or money for clothes, throw it out right when Will Clark was rounding third base on his way to home plate.”

  Devon polished off his dog, tossed the wrapper under the seat and moved close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

  “You know,” he said, “you talk a lot about your family back home.”

  “I do?”

  “More than you think.”

  Nicole felt her cheeks redden. “I’m sorry. This probably bores you to death, huh?”

  “On the contrary, I love hearing about it.” He cleared his throat and adjusted in his seat, scooting in so he could lower his voice. “It just makes me sometimes wonder why you’re here looking for people you don’t even know when it seems you’ve got a loving family back home.” She pursed her brow and he held up a hand. “I’m not judging, only asking. Help me understand this.”

  Another crack of the bat jerked their attention to the game, this time to see a Dodger base hit which quieted the crowd and caused Devon to slap a hand to his thigh.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want a new family. I just want to know where I come from.”

  “Fair enough. But you might end up getting more than you asked for.”