When he didn't answer, she slowly turned back to face him. He was standing with his arms braced on the doorframe, and the walk-in closet seemed to suddenly shrink in size as he barred her inside the small space. She couldn't decipher the expression on his face; his features were hooded and unreadable.
Under his close scrutiny, her knees became weak and her insides began to quiver.
After a few moments, his eyes narrowed and he announced curtly, "I've got a couple of questions."
Butterflies took flight in her stomach. "Okay," she agreed as evenly as she could manage.
"Are you home for good?" he asked with rapid heat.
The oxygen hitched in her lungs at the question. "I think so. As long as I can find a job--"
He seemed to ignore the second part of her statement as he cut her off. "Are you all grown up now?"
Her pulse accelerated as his torso moved infinitesimally closer. Control, Courtney. You're the one in control. "I've been grown up for years now."
His lips flattened at the dare and then took on a challenging twist. "You sure?"
Her heart stalled before starting again. Unable to get her vocal chords to work, she nodded her head.
His eyes dropped and ran slowly down her body before lifting to hers again. Pulling his hands away from the doorframe, he stood to his full intimidating height and took a single step inside the closet, a step that screamed intent. He slammed the door closed behind him.
Oh, shit. Okay. He wanted to do this now. Now wasn't in her plan. She hadn't even had a chance to give him a run for his money. Or to plan her strategy. To play hard to get maybe? To show him that she was in control now, not him? Yeah. Paybacks were supposed to be hell . . . she needed time to give him some hell.
As Nick's height and breadth dominated the area, the space immediately grew smaller, the four walls closing around them Did she actually believe that she was the one in control? The thought fled as she quickly counted the doors that Nick had secured to lock her inside with him. The penthouse door, the bedroom door, the closet door. Three freaking doors.
No escape, even had she wanted one. Which she didn't. The butterflies in her stomach and the rapid beating of her heart were telling her that much.
He took four more steps forward until he stood only inches away. His supple muscles tensed, his features turning to granite in lines of intimidating strength. Lifting his arms, he placed his hands on the built-in shelving unit behind her, caging her in. He wasn't touching her, but he was so close that Courtney could feel every breath he took, could feel the shudder that went through his large frame.
She waited with baited breath for him to touch her as a loud sound much like rushing water filled her eardrums.
Six years. It had been six years since he'd kissed her. Every day had been an agonizing wait.
One large hand reached down and lifted her chin, his splayed fingers grazing her neck as if her skin belonged to him. His eyes were hot on hers and his voice roughened, "You know what this is about. You figured me out a couple of years ago, didn't you?"
Her heart pounding, she knew there was no reason to deny it. "Yes," she said as she swallowed.
As one hand held her to him with his intractable grip, he dug into his front pocket with the other, while his eyes held hers with blazing focus. Pulling his hand from his pocket, he lifted a small, plastic square between them. He showed it to her, almost in challenge, with a false negligence that didn't deceive her in the least. As her eyes snapped away from his and she stared at the small object, she felt her face bloom with heat as the condom came into bold focus.
A hot, pulsing ache built in the pit of her stomach as her gaze clashed sharply with his once again. His eyes were intent, compelling, heated, and her tummy flipped wildly as his attention remained one hundred percent absorbed on her face.
Her breath caught in her throat at the look of determined intensity cast like stone on his features. A raw, sexual sizzle filled the air between them as his eyes narrowed and his mouth bracketed in lines of determination. "Just for the record, I've been a saint with you. I'm still being a saint with you--"
She cut him off, exhaled a shallow pant, angry that he'd made them wait so long. "Don't be. It's getting old. I'm tired of you being so careful--"
With no more prompting, his mouth dropped. His lips landed on hers and his hand slid from her chin to graze through her hair. His fingers clenched, fisting her hair as electricity arced between them. Her lips were forced apart with the motion and as his tongue shot inside, Courtney felt a great wave of relief as if she'd finally come home.