Free Entangled Moments (Moments in Time) by Dori Lavelle Page B

still
healing from the loss of your ex, and that’s why you’re holding back, but I am
in love with all of you. We can work through this together.”
    I rose to my feet and went to stand by the window, gazing
into the darkness. “There’s too much you don’t know about me.”
    “Tell me, baby. Let me in, so I can get to know you.”
    “I can’t.”
    He didn’t say anything more, but I could hear him shuffling
around behind me.
    He approached me, but I didn’t turn to face him. He stood so
close that heat radiated from his body to mine.
    My heart skipped a beat.
    As he pressed the length of his body against mine, his erection
hard against my butt, he made me forget about my plans to confess.
    “Tell me you don’t miss this.” Nick wrapped his arms around
me and slipped one hand inside the robe. He cupped my breast, and with the
other hand, unraveled the cord of my bathrobe and peeled it off. The satin
material brushed against my body and pooled at my feet.
    The confession would have to wait. I needed Nick. Just in
case I never got the chance to be so close to him again.
    I shivered as he moved his free hand toward my panties.
    With just a finger, he removed them from the area he was
interested in and pushed them to my knees. He paused and took his hands away from
my body, leaving me cold. He unbuckled his belt, unwrapped a condom. His warm breath
caressed my skin as he slid it on. Then he pulled me close again, bent me
forwarded, and parted my legs with his knees, opening me up to him. My breath
caught as he gripped my thighs and pushed into me, igniting me.
    He slid in and out slowly at first, and then faster and
harder, as our moans, groans, sighs, and my screams merged into one.
    I gyrated my hips from side to side, feeling all of him. It
was hungry, painful, beautiful sex that stole my breath.
    Together Nick and I rose up the ladder of passion, higher
and higher, until we climaxed at the same time.
    Panting, Nick straightened me but didn’t pull out. His arms remained
wrapped around my body. He kissed my neck and the back of my ear. “Tell me you
can live without this and I’ll leave.”
    “I can’t,” I whispered. But inside, guilt gnawed at me. It
couldn’t go on like this. He had to know. “But we need to talk.”
    “Yes, we do.” He slid out then, and I turned to face him.
    “I’ll go and have a quick shower first, is that okay?” I
needed time to prepare myself for a moment that might just change everything.
    “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here.”
    When, five minutes later, I walked out of the bathroom,
drying my hair, my eyes zoomed in on what Nick held in his hand, and my heart
stopped. He held a framed photograph of Chris.
    “Who is this?” he asked, his face ashen.
    I leaned against the doorframe for support, suddenly dizzy
with fear. “I... I... Nick...”
    “Answer me, dammit!” he shouted, his voice a blade of steel
that cut right through me. “What are you doing with my brother’s photo?” His
eyes were daggers. “Who are you?”
    “Nick.” I walked to him and tried to touch him, but he
yanked his arm away. “You’re her, aren’t you? You are Marianne Adams,
the woman who shot and killed my brother.”
    “I can explain.” Tears welled up in my eyes and flooded my
throat. “I wanted to tell you.” My first name was Marianne, but after Chris
died I wanted to be someone else, and I started using my middle name instead.
    He threw the photo onto the couch and grabbed his suit jacket.
“What’s there to explain? You killed my brother,” he shouted.
    I sank to the couch. “Yes,” I muttered. “But it was a
mistake. The police confirmed it.”
    “I don’t give a damn what the police think. How can a killer
be innocent? You pulled the trigger. That makes you guilty of murder.” He
leaned on the wall for support. His brows knitted and his eyes narrowed to blazing
slits. “How could you not tell me? How could you make me find out like this?”
    “Please