Free Along Came a Spider by Kate Serine Page A

“I wasn’t lying when I said it was a long time since I’d had a woman in my arms. Jules and I—”
“Nicky,” I interrupted, squeezing my eyes shut, not giving a damn about him and Juliet, or anything else for that matter. “It’s okay. I need this, too.”
“I think I’m shit-faced.”
I laughed a little. “I know you’re shit-faced.”
He chuckled in response. “Well, as long as we’re both clear on that, come here.” He pulled me close then, tucking me under his chin, his hands smoothing along the fluffy pink chenille of the bathrobe. Then his arms tightened around me, pressing me closer. And when I slipped my arms around his neck, he buried his face in my shoulder, clinging to me in what I guessed was a rare moment of vulnerability.
I held him close, smoothing his hair. “It’s all right,” I whispered, the words of reassurance as much for me as they were for him. “Everything will be okay now. I’ve got you. . . .”
At some point, we fell asleep together there on his sofa, arms around one another, finding in that embrace the solace we both needed. And at least for the rest of that night the nightmares were kept at bay.
“Just humor me.”
Nicky was dressed now in black jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off a little too clearly the bulge of his biceps as he sat on the edge of Juliet’s bed, forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped, while he watched me rummage through Juliet’s things looking for something to wear besides workout clothes.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I called over my shoulder, digging through the dresser drawers and finding lots of shorty-shorts that were so not going to cut it. I wasn’t about to go traipsing around Chicago in the middle of February with my ass hanging out. Check that. I wasn’t going to go traipsing around Chicago at any time of year with my ass hanging out.
“I wake up and find you curled up in my arms,” Nicky drawled, “and you mean to tell me nothing happened? I didn’t even kiss you or anything?”
“Nope,” I said, somehow managing it without adding a disappointed sigh. I could feel his pointed stare at my back and turned around to face him, leaning against the dresser and crossing my arms. “All we did was talk. I swear.”
“I remember the talking part, doll. I just want to make sure I didn’t drink so much that I missed anything else. It’s bad enough I missed out on the hours when I was sleeping.”
Flushing, and wishing like hell that I had more to report, I turned back to my search, jerking open another drawer and quickly rifling through it.
“I can’t believe I didn’t even try to kiss you,” he mused.
I clamped down on my back teeth to keep from screaming. “Try.”
Obviously not picking up on my irritation, he continued to mull it over aloud. “I mean, you were sitting there in that little pink bathrobe looking so adorable—”
Adorable? Perfect.
“—what with the cute little curls . . .”
Cute? Cute?!? Fucking curls.
“I really didn’t even try to put the moves on you?”
“Okay,” I said, so beyond tired of talking about how he hadn’t kissed me, “this isn’t going to work. I’m going to need to go back to my apartment and find something to wear before we do anything else.”
He frowned. “You sure that’s a good idea? What about dragging Nate or a priest along?”
“Going to have to risk it,” I insisted. “I’m just not going to find what I need here.” And at this point I’d rather face off against a hundred angry phantoms than continue this particular line of conversation. . . .
“There’s gotta be something you can wear.”
“Let’s face it, Nicky,” I said, “I’m five foot four and have cleavage. I’m not exactly the supermodel material your wife was.”
His even gaze met mine. “You are to me.”
My breath caught in my chest as I blinked at him, wondering if he was joking, but there was no sign of humor lurking in his eyes. “Thanks,” I finally managed softly.
He gave me a