“Maybe I just want to talk to you about it,” he whispered. “Let me tell you, Max. It’s all I have left to give Wendy.”
“To immortalize her with tales of your sexual prowess? How macho,” she muttered sarcastically, but God help her, she had to hear more. She was no longer capable of distinguishing between her own feelings and Wendy’s. Nick simply turned her bones to jelly, made her fantasize about his tongue between her thighs.
Slut. Whore. Tramp. Call it whatever you like. That’s what she was.
“That was the only orgasm I ever gave her during those early morning sessions.”
“So much for sexual prowess.”
He laughed softly at himself. “She cried after I did it. At the time, I thought it was because she’d never...”
“Committed adultery?”
“Yes.”
“Had you?”
“No.” Then he waved away the admission. “Later I realized she always heard a noise, pulled away. She’d get me off, and then...she found a way to stop the rest. I thought it was guilt.”
Max realized it was the thing that had bothered him the most about the affair. Wendy simply wouldn’t let him take care of her sexual needs. “Maybe it was her power.”
He considered that a moment. “Meaning that when she took me in her mouth, she had all the power?”
“When you came, that was all she needed.”
In a far corner of her mind, she saw the strangeness of the conversation, but all she felt was the intense intimacy of it, his hand on her leg, stroking, making her hot and wet.
She went into attack mode hoping to short circuit her body. “Neither of you cared about the risks as long as your needs were met.”
His jaw tightened. “You should know about risks. They’re worth it when you want something badly enough.”
“Score one for you, Nickie. Except for your wife and Wendy’s husband, of course, everyone knew what was going on.”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “A small shop, no one cares about affairs. But I never touched her if someone could walk in on us.”
“Never?” Max held her breath. Wendy wanted to know his answer.
He regarded her a moment, then let a slow smile creep across his lips. “I won’t ask again who you are. I won’t even ask why Wendy never told me about you. And yes, there was once. It was after that first time. She was in her office, alone, with a...look on her face.”
“You wanted to hold her.”
“I needed to hold to her, to let her know it would be okay. But I didn’t.”
Max closed her eyes. “What did you do?”
“I kissed her. On the lips. It was quick.”
Just a flash of his lips across hers, but Wendy had obsessed over the feel of that kiss. It had said so much, that he understood her pain, her fear, that he cared. It had never been a part of the sexual stuff. It had been natural. Special.
Max let out the breath she’d been holding and changed the subject, tried to barricade herself against the intensity of Wendy’s emotions. “What about the night she died?”
His eyes went distant a moment. “There was something different. She was aggressive, in control. Maybe it was leaving Hal. I don’t know. She wasn’t like the Wendy I knew. I touched her first, but she was the one who climbed on top of me, took me inside her.”
Max listened, her thoughts polarized on the dream images suddenly fresh in her mind, her body tensed to receive him. God, she was so wet and he was so hard and... “She climaxed.”
“Scared the shit out of me. She said she loved me. That she’d left Hal.”
Her lip curled almost involuntarily. “That’s when you failed her.”
“I failed her the first time I told her I wanted her. I was married. I couldn’t promise anything except...”
“Except what, Nick? Furtive sex on the warehouse worktable?”
He stared at her, his fingers wedged in the crease of her knee. He’d laid his affair out for her, dissected his feelings, affirmed his guilt, and allowed her accusations without lashing out. The intimacy of his voice, his touch, and his admissions stole her breath. She was naked beneath the robe except for a minuscule pair of thong panties. If she spread her legs, he would know exactly what she asked for. What Wendy asked for.
She gulped, sought distraction. “Why did Remy fire you?”
“He didn’t. Don’t ask me why. I never did figure that out.”
Maybe it was like Carla said. Remy knew what was going on, and he liked to watch. “So you quit?”
He shrugged. “Three months ago. One last ditch effort at my marriage.”
“Obviously it didn’t work.”
He laughed softly, sadly. “No.”
“Because you kept seeing Wendy?”
With a shrug, he said, “She’d call. Sometimes, I just...” He clenched a fist. “I needed something.”
Living with a dead husband, Max understood that only too well.
Nick raised his eyes to her lips, stared. He needed that indefinable something right now. From her.
“I want you,” he murmured.