The Scarlet Night (Rose Gold Book 0)

by Nicole French

  Nina’s pulse beat where my fingers were still wrapped around her wrist.

  “Please,” she said again.

  The desperation in that single syllable tore down every reservation I had.

  “Thanks, doll,” I murmured into her ear, playing my lips over the soft skin just below it.

  She sagged against me with relief.

  The concierge handed us the card keys with sudden deference. “You’ll have a private elevator at the end of the lobby. The code for the penthouse is 14820. Is there anything else I can send up for you?”

  “Champagne,” Nina requested shyly. “And, um, strawberries, if you have any.”

  The sudden image of Nina suckling one of the bright red fruits made me forget about the card completely. I turned to the clerk. “You heard the lady, boss.”

  “Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  I opened my mouth to say no, but as I set the flower on the countertop, I nodded. “Yeah. A dozen roses. Red ones. Like this.”

  “Matthew?” Nina’s voice held all manner of questions. “You really don’t have to—”

  But I just shook my head. I wasn’t just getting a girl a liked a bouquet of flowers. I had an idea.

  “Thanks.” I swept up the card keys and pulled Nina away from the desk. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s find our room.”

  The elevator opened directly into the room, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering it was the penthouse. But I’d never been in a hotel room, much less even an apartment, that took up an entire floor in New York City.

  Nina obviously had. When the doors opened, she walked into the suite naturally while I followed in a stupor.

  “It’s nice,” she said, almost as if she were surprised.

  “For fifteen hundred a night, it better be.”

  Nice was the understatement of the century. I knew spots like this existed here, but they had been theoretical my entire life. Like most New Yorkers, I’d strolled up and down Fifth Avenue, seen the tops of the prewar buildings surrounding Central Park, admired the brownstones in the West Village or the lofts in Soho. Once upon a time, I’d even entertained ideas about living in one of them, before I determined that criminal defense or corporate law or any other bloodsucking vein of the legal profession would be tantamount to selling my soul to the devil.

  So I’d never seen inside. I’d never seen a place in New York that was one hundred percent luxury, top to bottom, like this.

  And I had to say…it was kind of worth it.

  “I’m just going to freshen up.” Nina moved toward a bathroom, that, from my cursory glimpse, was about the size of my bedroom at home.

  “Sure, doll. Make yourself at home,” I said as I continued to explore.

  The “suite” was about three times as big as my entire townhouse. A living room that could hold a yacht. A kitchen I couldn’t even think about using. Two massive bedrooms, including a master with the biggest four-poster bed I could have imagined, draped with gauzy white curtains and an assortment of pillows I could easily see Nina and me falling into. The entire place was surrounded by floor-to-ceiling picture windows, which might have created a fishbowl effect, except we were high enough above this part of the city that I felt more like the spectator.

  I approached the window and looked out. Manhattan twinkled with a view of midtown, including the Empire State Building in one direction and One World Trade Center towering from the other. So this was how the one percent lived. This was what they came home to, night after night. Their kingdom, laid out beneath them, glittering like a million jewels.

  Talk about a nice life.

  “Nice view?”

  I turned as Nina emerged from the bathroom. And I swear to God, my heart stopped for at least five full seconds.

  “Oh, yeah,” I practically croaked. “Great view.”

  You think you know what to expect. Thick ones, thin ones, curvy ones, skinny ones. With lingerie, fully clothed, totally naked. I wasn’t a stranger to this moment. I’d seen a few.

  But when Nina appeared, I felt like this was the first time in my life I’d ever really seen a woman. She wore only a bra and matching panties made out of some kind of pinkish, almost nude-colored silk, plus her bits of jewelry and the high-heeled shoes I was positive she’d kept on just for me. Her legs, elegant and smooth, seemed to go on for miles, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders in tousled, corn silk waves.

  She was painfully simple. Nearly colorless. Exquisitely pure.

  “I wasn’t exactly planning for this.” She gestured at her lingerie. “I know it’s not the sexiest thing in the world.”

  And maybe to some, it wasn’t. It was practical and smoothing over a body that didn’t need the help. Demure, almost conservative.

  But the effect was undeniably erotic. Despite the fact that she was standing before me in nothing but her underwear, Nina was as much a lady as she had been sitting in the bar. A lady, presenting herself to me. Begging to be defiled.

  I approached slowly, taking my time as her skin flared to life beneath my gaze.

  “Nina.” My voice was hoarse, like I’d just been shouting. “Baby.”

  I held my hands up, floating them over her shoulders, her hair, her waist, her hips. But I didn’t touch, just hovered, inches over her skin. Enjoying the way she quivered from anticipation. The way her lips parted with desire.

  I didn’t want to rush this moment. I’d never get it back.

  “You,” I said as I moved my hands all over, as if rehearsing the moment when skin would actually meet skin, “are the most beautiful goddamn thing I have ever seen in my sad, sorry life.”

  It was the truest thing I had ever said.

  Finally, our eyes met, and we stared at each other, fear meeting fear, lust meeting lust. “Matthew.” My name dripped off her lips like honey. “Matthew. Please.”

  But before I could touch her, the elevators doors opened, announcing the presence of our room service.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered Nina. “I’ll be right back.”

  Nine

  I found Nina lounging on the bed, long legs crossed atop the snow-white duvet when I returned with the tray of champagne, strawberries, and roses. I could easily imagine repeating this moment for the rest of my life, spoiling Nina a few times a year on the days that belonged to her. You know the ones. Birthdays, Mother’s Days—Mother’s Days?

  I blinked, like a record scratched. I had one night. One fucking night with this woman, and here I was fantasizing about years to come. I needed to get myself the fuck together.

  “What I don’t understand is why you bought those,” she said, gesturing languidly at the bouquet of flowers. “You must know I can’t take them with me.”

  I wanted to ask why she couldn’t take them, but something told me she wouldn’t say. I’d take them home, even if it meant listening to Frankie bemoan the fact that the only man who brought her flowers anymore was her older brother. Sofie would like them, at any rate.

  “I got them,” I said, “because I wanted to do this.”

  I set the tray on the bureau, then plucked one of the long-stemmed roses from the vase. I sat down next to Nina and traced the rosebud over the curve of her shoulder, then brushed it against her lips. There was something intoxicating about the way her clean, pale skin contrasted with the deep red. The color of purity marred with the hue of passion.

  “Do you ever wear red?” I found myself asking, despite the fact that I’d never see her in it, even if she did. “Like this?”

  Nina just watched the progress of the bud as it traveled down her side, over one leg, to flirt with the delicate curve of her ankle. She cleared her throat. “Well, no. Not really.”

  “Not even lipstick? Maybe your nails?”

  “Grandmother always thought it garish. Unfitting for someone like me.”

  “Someone like you?” I drew the flower over the hook of her heel.

  Nina shrugged. “Someone of my ‘station,’ she would have said
.”

  “She probably knew you’d attract a trail of lovers. Like the pied piper, except with color instead of song.”

  As I trailed the rose back up her other leg, I found myself wondering what Nina would look like with a bright red mouth, puckered with want. Scarlet fingernails digging into my skin. A crimson silk negligee, begging to be torn off.

  Christ, I was hard at just the thought.

  And yet, despite our frenzy on the street, despite the way Nina was watching the progress of the rose like it was a piece of kindling that might literally burst into flames…I stayed where I was, drifting the soft petals up and down her equally soft skin while I studied her reactions. The way her breath hitched slightly when I found a particularly sensitive spot. The way her lean curves tightened in anticipation of something I wasn’t quite ready to give.

  “What do you want, beautiful?” I murmured. “What can I do for you?”

  Nina’s eyes brightened as I drew the rose back up her chest. I played it over the line of her bra, feathering it over her breasts. She wasn’t a Coke-bottle pinup, far too slender for that. But I knew without checking that each breast would fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.

  “I don’t know if anyone has ever asked me that before.”

  I dragged the flower over one nipple, causing it to perk through the lace. Nina squirmed slightly and bit her lip. All right, then. Clearly that was something I needed to do more of.

  I leaned over her, enjoying the way she arched slightly in anticipation. The rosebud traveling over her other nipple. She moaned. Just barely.

  “I’m asking now,” I said, hovering my lips over hers. I wanted to kiss her. God, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to feel that give of her body against mine again, see what happened when the fire there was allowed to burn unfettered.

  But.

  Not yet. Not. Quite. Yet.

  “Tell me, sweetheart,” I said, as I placed a soft kiss on her jaw. Then another on the other side. “What do you like?”

  I dropped the rose and continued a trail of kisses down her neck. Nina tipped her chin up, granting me better access.

  “I…I like that,” she offered weakly.

  “What else?” I said after I trailed my nose over her clavicle, dipping into the delicate hollow between her shoulder and chest. Holy God, she smelled good. Like roses and wine. Money and light.

  “I like…you.”

  There was something in her voice that made me stop just as my cheek brushed the top of her breast. Part of me wanted to tear off the remainder of her clothes. Yank the lingerie down, bare one swollen tip of nipple. Take it between my teeth and pull mercilessly just to see what kind of sound she’d make. See if she would beg me to stop or beg me for more.

  I wanted to debase this woman. Maybe I knew she’d be even more beautiful once I did. But maybe I was also afraid that once I really started something with Nina Astor, I wouldn’t be able to stop, time limits and all. That come morning, I’d be on my knees, begging her to stay. Just for one more night.

  As if she could sense me overthinking, Nina sat up, her hair falling over one shoulder. Like she was about to touch a wild animal, her hand hovered over my shirt collar. She glanced up at me, then back down to my clothes. I didn’t move. I barely breathed.

  “I don’t know what I want,” she admitted as she tugged at my tie. She loosened the knot, then pulled it over my head. Her fingers moved more quickly as she undid the buttons of my vest, then started on my shirt. “An undershirt,” she remarked as she pulled it open. “Most men don’t even bother.”

  “Most men are content to look like fuckin’ heathens. I like to think I’m not most men, doll.”

  “No,” she said, “you are definitely not.”

  Her big gray eyes turned to saucers as I shucked the shirt and vest, then pulled the cotton undershirt over my head.

  Maybe with someone else I might have smirked. I did my daily runs along the river. Went to the gym on my lunch breaks. Got in my five hundred sit-ups every night before sleep. I’d been playing soccer in the park every weekend since I was a kid, plus four years in the Marines that ground into me the importance of staying fit. I liked to be ready for anything. And that included moments like this.

  But Nina’s plain desire humbled me. Here was this woman, this goddess, dying for me to pleasure her. And yet she was looking at me as if I were the man of her dreams.

  “I don’t know what I want,” she said again. “But something tells me…something tells me you might be able to give it to me anyway, Matthew.”

  I took her hand and pressed it between my chest muscles. “Then, kiss me, doll,” I told her. “Kiss me and find out.”

  Nina swallowed. She wet her lips, which released from between her teeth like ripe berries. It was obvious that she was a stranger to the first move. Hell, it was obvious that she was a stranger to any moves at all.

  But then she leaned forward and set her lips on mine. And that. Was. It.

  Any last-minute reservations vanished as I tasted her again, twisted my tongue in the nectar of her mouth. She smelled like a flower, but tasted like dessert. I could get lost in this mouth and die a happy man.

  I pulled Nina onto my lap, needing her closer. She straddled my waist on her knees, slipping her fingers into my hair again while we devoured each other. My hands traveled up and down her body, finding her secret curves, the swell of her ass, the dip of her waist. Memorizing them. Worshipping them. We stayed like that for minutes. Maybe hours. Time didn’t really seem to matter anymore, and this was just a kiss.

  “Matthew,” Nina breathed as I found the hooks to her bra.

  Off it came, and suddenly we were flesh on flesh.I groaned and kissed her again, then reached between us to cup a handful. And promptly groaned again.

  “Ah!” Nina cried as I pulled her breast to my lips. I closed my teeth around the tight nub. She ground against me and I almost came right there.

  “Well, you like that,” I remarked before turning my attention to her other nipple. She was so fucking responsive, almost like she’d never been touched. If I hadn’t already known better—did I know better?—I’d have said that Nina Astor was a virgin.

  But it was Nina who finally pulled back, just when I was about to swallow her whole. Suddenly, she was all movement as she squirmed off my lap, sliding down to the floor between my legs.

  “Off,” she mumbled as her fingers found the buttons of my pants.

  I sat back on my elbows, allowing her to undress me. It was a beautiful sight, really—a woman like Nina Astor, on her elegant knees, removing my clothes like a servant. She removed my shoes, socks, then my pants. Eventually I lay back on the bed in only my boxer briefs while she crawled back over me, a long, lean work of art. And my dick, painfully hard, pressed between her smooth thighs, with only a few scant pieces of fabric separating us.

  “That’s better,” she murmured. “Now we’re even.”

  I kissed her again. I could have kissed her forever. Except I was ready to do so much more.

  Nina shrieked when I suddenly flipped her onto her back, a shriek I quickly covered with my mouth.

  “Hush,” I told her as I picked the rose back off the bed. “Just tell me when I’m doing things right, okay? Or if you want something else.”

  She nodded, then remained still, only shaking slightly as I started to tickle her body with the rose again. That color. That white. I was addicted to the sight of them together.

  This time, however, I followed the rose with my lips, my tongue, my teeth. When it touched her neck, I kissed her there, enjoying the quiver of her body when I left a mark. I paid more attention to her breasts, taking the time to tease her nipples until she was hissing like a teakettle. I followed the petals over her stomach and tickled her inner thighs. And then, with a glance at her eager, openmouthed face, pressed my nose into that sweet, sensitive spot covered only by a thin bit of silk.

  “Oh!” Nina’s voice floated through the air.

  I chuckled. �
�Baby, I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “But you will, won’t you?” She sighed at the ceiling, falling back onto the bed.

  I rubbed my nose back and forth, teasing her clit through the silk. Nina jerked in response. Her desire was clear through the damp material. Good fucking God. Just the heady scent of her called me home.

  “I will, baby,” I said as I peeled her panties down her long legs. “Right fucking now.”

  She was as much a lady beneath her clothes as she was with them on. Trimmed, but not totally bare. I used my tongue, my lips, gently at first. Testing how various places, various pressures affected her. Every woman is different. Every body responds uniquely. And Nina’s in particular deserved the best I could give.

  I discovered more about Nina Astor in twenty minutes between her thighs than I had in an hour of conversation. Here she was splayed out for me, naked, unguarded. With each moan, each subtle shake, I learned how she enjoyed pleasure.

  “Yess,” she’d hiss when I was giving her exactly what she wanted.

  “Ah!” She’d jerk when I did something less pleasurable.

  I enjoyed it all. You only get one first time.

  “Matthew!” she shouted sometime later, my name echoing through the room for the third time. I lapped at her, thirsty as a dog, until the final quivers of her orgasm faded.

  “Come here,” she said, her voice sleepy. “Come here.”

  I crept up her body. Fuck, I was so hard it was painful, but at the same time, if this was all she wanted, I wouldn’t regret a thing.

  That, however, wasn’t what Nina was thinking.

  “Off,” she murmured as she kissed me. She seemed to enjoy the remnants of her pleasure as much as I did. Dirty, dirty. I loved it.

  She tugged at my briefs until I managed to kick them off. When I fell against her leg, Nina’s eyes lost that daze. “Oh!”

  This time, I did smirk. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it before.”

  Her skin turned that beautiful hue of pink again. “You were—well, you were on your knees, I guess, and I just didn’t…”