She shook her head against his neck. “I believe you. I hate it. I hate that this is the truth of my father. I hate what happened to you. But I believe you. And I know you couldn’t tell me. I understand.” She trembled against him.
He pulled back and gripped her face. That she’d come to him with belief and understanding heated parts of his soul he thought might never again be warm. “We’re okay? Can you forgive me?”
Eyes wet and uncertain, she said, “Yes. Can you forgive me, too?”
“It’s not even a thing.” He kissed her. Right there in front of everyone. Guys hadn’t missed a fucking thing anyway. They already knew Rixey was way the hell into her. And making things right with Becca was more important than whatever pussy-whipped comments this might earn him later. “You okay?” he asked, bending to look at her throat. For a moment, his gaze went hazy. The skin was scratched and red.
“It’s sore, but it’s okay.” She patted his chest, a silent request for him to step back, and then she slipped off her stool. “I need to do something.”
“Okay,” he said, not sure what . . .
She made the few steps to the stern, where Easy sat on the back corner, and said something Nick couldn’t hear over the wind. And then she hugged him. Easy’s arms came around her slowly but hugged her back. And then they were nodding to each other.
Nick had no clue what she was doing. She squeezed his hand as she passed him, heading to the bow. And she repeated the same action with Marz, who wore a big goofy grin afterward. With Shane, who was visibly moved, and finally with Beckett, whom Nick’d never seen hug another person before in his life.
Over his shoulder, Nick asked Easy, “What did she say?”
The guy stood up, gave a nod of respect that shone in his eyes, and looked at Rixey. “She said she’s sorry for her father. That she’ll do whatever she can to make up for it. And that she believes us.” Easy’s voice was strained as he spoke.
No one had apologized for what had happened to them. No one had offered to help. And no one had said they believed them.
Except Becca.
He looked toward the bow, where Beckett was leaning down to hear something she had to say.
And that was the moment Nick knew unequivocally he was in love with Becca Merritt.
BECCA LAY NAKED on her side, her body intertwined with Nick’s. His strong arms surrounded her, and the heat of his skin sank deep.
They were all going a little crazy having to wait the day to go after Charlie. But the storage center was open to the public until six on Sundays and located in a high-traffic strip. The team didn’t want to risk civilians or exposure to themselves if the op went bad. And the strip club—the place in Church’s empire that seemed most suitable for entertaining and impressing—didn’t open until seven on Sunday evenings, and it would be significantly easier to search if they could go inside as customers.
So they were going out at seven on the dot. In the meantime, they ate, slept . . . in her and Nick’s case, made love, too.
Each hour that passed ratcheted up her terror that something would happen to Nick tonight when they went after Charlie.
She snuggled into Nick and pressed a kiss against his chest. Words had been parked on the edge of her tongue since the minute he’d accepted her apology on Miguel’s boat. But she wasn’t sure if voicing these overwhelming feelings welling up inside her would give him strength or prove a distraction.
And she was scared enough for him, because the dual assault on the storage center and the strip club meant their numbers were halved.
Which terrified Becca beyond belief.
Not just for Nick, whom she loved.
But also for the men who were all that remained of the brotherhood he’d cherished his entire adult life. Becca had no illusions that her apology to each of the guys made everything all right. It would take a lot more than words to undo her father’s damage. She had to find a way, though, because she felt the weight of that responsibility like a second skin she’d never be able to take off.
Beside her, Nick stretched and yawned, his body coming to life all along the length of hers. They’d made love earlier, but he was hard against her stomach, and she wasn’t complaining.
Sliding her thigh up the outside of his, she reached between their bodies and grasped and stroked his cock. He moaned low in his throat, a sound that added to the wetness growing between her legs from the feel of him in her hand and her not-at-all-accidental rubbing of his head against her clit.
“Put me inside you,” he whispered.
A thrill shivered over her skin at the gravelly command. Becca dragged his head through her folds, tilted her hips, and guided him inside.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said against the top of her hair.
She leaned her head back and kissed him. As their tongues twirled and lashed, he hooked his hand behind her knee and used the leverage to fuck her. The strokes were punctuated, hard thrusts, snaps of his hips against her clit that drove her wild and pushed her almost immediately to the edge.
His mouth stole her breath. His touch stole her heart. And his cock stole her sanity. Becca came. He swallowed her cry and whispered sweet encouragements as her body clenched and writhed.
“I’m coming,” he groaned. “Oh, Becca, shit.” Nick yanked his cock free, stroked it with a tight fist, and came all over her belly. “I’m sorry,” he panted. “Didn’t mean to forget.” When the strain of his orgasm melted off his face, his eyes were so bright, so free of the shadows she’d seen that first day.
Her heart squeezed. “It’s okay. I liked it. I’m on birth control anyway.”
“Good to know.” Pushing into a sitting position, his gaze raked over her. She looked down herself, wondering exactly what he saw when he looked at her. Two ribbons of cum painted white stripes over her belly button. “Goddamnit, I’d kill to draw you right now. But it’s getting late.” Nick twisted to look at the nightstand and groaned.
“What time is it?” she whispered.
“Almost five.” Only two hours.
Her stomach dropped and she took a deep breath. Unthinkingly, she drew her fingers through the wetness on her belly and noticed his eyes flash to the movement. She did it again, on purpose this time, wanting to distract both of them from the awaiting reality. She smeared the liquid over the curved line of the guitar body still drawn on her side.
“That’s so fucking sexy, Becca.” He grabbed her hand, pulled it to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles. “But stop before I end up hard again and have a case of blue balls for the rest of the night. Stay right there.” He winked and swung off the bed. A moment later he returned with a warm washcloth, and he bathed her stomach. It was the sweetest thing.
The pressure of emotion for him made it hard to breathe. She had to tell him. Who knew what the night would bring? And no way she could let him go out there without knowing he mattered to her. Not just a lot. But as much as anyone ever could. “Nick?”
His dimple came out as he looked at her. “Yeah?” He tossed the cloth to the nightstand.
Nerves almost making her light-headed, she forced herself to sit up. When he settled next to her, she stroked her fingers over him, his shoulders, his chest, his sides, and met those beautiful eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, her breath catching. “I just need you to know. I’m completely in love with you. And I—”
“God, Becca.” He cupped her face in his big hands. “I love you so fucking much I can barely breathe.” He kissed her, a consuming, devouring physical connection that wrapped them up in a moment in time that was just for them, into which nothing could intrude. She’d remember it for the rest of her life.