A Winter's Seduction (A Winter's Tale Series Book 5)

by Kristi Tailor

  “Dimple, staying away from one another is not going to fix anything. The only way for us to heal− to rebuild what we had is to work at it every day. All of this space that we’ve put between us . . . it’s toxic and it’s doing the complete opposite of bringing about reconciliation.”

  “You’re right,” she acknowledged. “I know that you’re right, but it’s just so hard to overcome the hurt and embarrassment of you making love to−”

  Nicholas groaned painfully, the sound driving from deep within him. “Please stop saying that I made love to her. I did not make love to her.” Even echoing the words made him feel disgusted with himself. Having to hear his sin, to think about it− made him feel sick to his stomach. And what made matters worse was knowing the unspoken truth . . . Charlotte no longer believed in him. Nicholas despised the thought of his wife not being able to trust him. “I loathe myself for what I have done to you, to us. I have singlehandedly destroyed our relationship . . . our friendship, and I’m truly sorry.”

  Charlotte stared into his haunted grey eyes, silently praying that God would give her a heart and mind of compassion, that she would be the kind of wife who could truly forgive her husband of his trespasses, and not think to use them as weapons against him in times of anger or discontentment. Moving her hands from his face to his hair, she lovingly caressed Nicholas’ scalp. With skillful precision she massaged away the tension that had been building there. In silent observation, Charlotte studied Nicholas’ features . . . his eyes, his mouth. “You look so tired,” she acknowledged.

  Nicholas’ boyish smile made his already handsome features appear youthful, charming. “I did just drive from New Hampshire to Manhattan,” he said softly.

  “No,” she shook her head. “Not physically tired . . . but weary.” When Nicholas didn’t respond, Charlotte lifted her head so that their mouths touched, a quick brush of their lips. “Stay the night with me.” It was a plea that she silently prayed he would not reject. “Every time I close my eyes I get picked apart by my fears, and it feels as if I’m being swallowed whole.”

  Nicholas took hold of Charlotte’s right hand and brought it to his full lips. Her confession tore at his heartstrings. There was so much more he had wanted to say to her, so many promises that he had wanted to make before the sun rose in the summer sky. But for all the words that tormented his thoughts, he simply replied, “Okay.”

  Chapter Four

  Not even an hour after they had laid down, Charlotte had begun tossing and turning in her sleep, waking Nicholas from his much- needed slumber. The five- hour drive from New Hampshire to Manhattan had taken a toll on his body and he was beyond drained. Stretching his long frame along the length of the mattress he moved into Charlotte, tenderly wrapping his strong arms around her smaller body. Just lying next to her, just being able to embrace her without any reservation on her end, brought him great contentment. Their time apart had proven more than difficult for him, and while he had respected her demand for space, he hated the idea of having to give it to her. What he thought would be a few days of separation had easily turned into several months of agony. Relentlessly, he had prayed to God that Charlotte would find it within her heart to forgive him. For months, his prayer was unchanging and absolute− that his wife, would love him enough to forgive him for his momentary recklessness. Now, nearly three months later, it seemed that his patience had not been in vain.

  “Nicholas,” Charlotte whispered his name with great tenderness. “Are you awake?”

  “Mhm,” he breathed, tightening his hold on her. “Did you have another nightmare?”

  Sighing, Charlotte nodded her confirmation in the dimness of the room. “My mind will not allow me a moment’s peace,” she complained. Turning over in his arms, Charlotte laid her head on his toned chest. “Nicholas?”

  “Dimple?”

  “At our reception, your father announced that you had returned to your family’s company . . . and that you would be leaving to work in Europe . . . was he telling the truth?”

  Nicholas bent his head to hers, and kissing the thick black tendrils that were pulled into an unkempt ponytail, he took her hand in his, lightly intertwining their fingers together. “Yes,” he answered simply.

  Charlotte unsuccessfully tried to withdraw from his embrace. “Let me sit up,” she demanded when all else failed.

  “No,” he smirked. “I’d rather not.”

  Groaning aloud, she let out an agitated breath. “So, you’re really leaving?”

  “It’s probable.”

  “When?”

  “More than likely the end of August, or at the latest September.”

  “That soon?” she gasped.

  “Mhm.”

  Sorrow spread through her bloodstream, leaving the bitter taste of despair to linger in her mouth− to tighten her throat. “And how long will you be gone?”

  “About a year.”

  Charlotte stiffened. A year! her brain worked to process the information. How could he be leaving for an entire year, and not be fazed by the thought of not seeing her, of not being with her? “A year,” she repeated, her voice low. “That’s a long time.”

  When Nicholas didn’t respond, Charlotte twisted against him. Forcefully, she pushed at his torso needing a reprieve from his touch. The bed suddenly felt too small, and the room too hot. “Nicholas, let go of me,” she muttered, her voice muffled.

  Intertwining his fingers in her already tangled hair, Nicholas pulled Charlotte’s head back so that she was forced to look at him. Gazing down at her for a long moment, his steel eyes softened to a molten mercury. “Why are you crying?” he asked after several heart beats.

  Glaring up at him, Charlotte swiped at the beads of water that fell down her red cheeks. “Why am I crying?” she scoffed. “Why are you so unbothered about moving to a different country? No! Another continent.”

  “Working in another country is hardly moving there,” he corrected. “Regardless, it’s not a reason for you to cry.”

  A long silence stretched out between them as they stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity. Charlotte was hurt, beyond hurt and Nicholas knew it all too well. But, tears aside, he needed for her to consider the possibility of him being gone. More than anything, he needed for her to understand that their lives were meant to be spent together and not separately, and if it took a few shed tears for her to comprehend that concept, then so be it.

  Charlotte swallowed. “Could you send someone else?” she asked quietly.

  “No,” he answered, loosening his grip on her silky locks.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  “You could come with me,” he shrugged. “You would like London . . . we could tour Europe during my down time. It would be a nice getaway.”

  “I suppose, I could,” she said after a thoughtful moment. “I’ve never been out of the country, and it’s not like I’m loving the magazine right now.”

  Nicholas lifted an eyebrow. “You would really come with me?” he asked, clearly surprised by her response.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “A year is a long time to be away from you . . . not that you seem in the least bothered by the idea.”

  Bending his head to hers, he feathered her face with gentle kisses, his soft lips caressing her tear stained cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere,” he made the admission with the slightest of smiles. “But it’s good to know that you were so bothered by the possibility.”

  “You lied to me?”

  “I wanted to prove a point,” he corrected.

  Frowning, she asked, “And what point was that?”

  “That you can’t be away from me, just as I can’t be away from you. The only reason you feel even the slightest bit of comfort in us not being together is because I’m only minutes away . . . but the idea of putting states between us . . . a country . . . a time zone, and you can’t bear it.”

  “You think I’ve been comfortable,” she laughed, though there was no humor in it. “I have been m
iserable. I have been completely out of my mind, miserable. I−” she stopped herself. Shaking her head at his cruel antics, Charlotte let out a labored breath before continuing. “Nicholas, you’re my best friend. And when we separated, I didn’t just separate from my husband . . . I had to give up my best friend, too. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?”

  “Of course, I do. I endured the same loss. Only my pain was tinged with guilt and regret.”

  Charlotte blinked several times and then glanced away from him. Nicholas wanted to ask what she was thinking but decided against it. “Dimple,” he murmured her name, seizing her attention once more. “It’s morning, and I’m really tired. Can we go back to sleep?”

  Glancing past his shoulder to the bed table clock she glowered. 6:18 a.m. “I couldn’t sleep now, even if I tried,” she admitted. It was a painful reality because truth be told, she too was tired− beyond exhausted. “You go back to sleep. I’m going to go for a run.” Making an attempt to pull out of his grasp, Charlotte forced her smaller torso forward in hopes of making some gain toward freedom. But again, Nicholas did not budge. “Nicholas, please let me up,” she begged him. “I’ve been fighting for sleep since early yesterday evening, and for whatever reason it has evaded me. I’m tired of this room. I’m tired of this bed, of this apartment . . . I need some fresh air.”

  Nicholas’ gaze sharpened; his silvers narrowed to bright, glistening slits. “I can help you fall asleep,” he said. His tone was a suggestive one.

  Releasing his hold on her hair, he lightly grazed his fingertips down her neck, her breasts− stopping at her hard peaks. His eyes were steady on hers as he caressed her sensitive nipples over the thin material of her cami. “It would be an easy feat,” he whispered into her ear. Flipping her over so that she was lying beneath him, Nicholas bent his head to kiss her slightly parted lips. It was the most tender of touches, but for him it was not enough. Needing more than the touch of his lips against hers, he lightly teased her mouth with the tip of his tongue− one stroke, two, and he was overtaken . . . consumed by her.

  With a low groan, Nicholas deepened their embrace, kissing her so intensely, so completely, that her breathing staggered. Continuing his exploration of her yielding body, he moved his hand further still, leisurely grazing his palm over every curve, every hollow . . . caressing every dip along the way, stopping only when he reached the apex of her thighs. He could feel the dampness from her arousal soaking through the thin material of her panties, the heat radiating from her sex easily feeding his own erection− causing a low moan to escape past his full lips. Breaking their kiss, Nicholas rested his forehead against hers and swallowed deeply. “You’re already so wet for me,” he breathed, his cool breath a gentle caress on her already sensitive skin. Pushing her panties aside, he slid his index finger into her heat, testing her readiness. Nicholas’ steel eyes darkened to an intense charcoal at the feel of Charlotte’s muscles tightening around his finger.

  Charlotte moaned. Rising her hips to meet his hand, she spread her thighs wider to give him better access. Thrusting forward, she rocked her hips back and forth, silently pleading for a release. “Stop teasing me,” she whined.

  Nicholas’ answering smile was provocative, sexy. “Is that what I’m doing?” he asked as he inserted a second finger into her throbbing sex. “I thought I was helping you.”

  “Nicholas, please,” she begged, uncaring of the sudden desperation in her voice. She was desperate, desperate and impatient with wanting him.

  “Shh,” Nicholas cooed, silencing her with the touch of his mouth on hers once more. Withdrawing his fingers from her heat, he pulled her panties down her toned legs to rest at her ankles, all the while removing his V-neck white t- shirt in one swift motion. Tugging his boxers away from his growing shaft, Nicholas pushed into Charlotte’s welcoming garden with a groan. His hardness stretched her opening, driving past her soft folds until he was nestled deeply inside of her. His muscular chest slid over her sensitive mounds, his toned thighs pressed firmly against her bare sex, causing her entire core to throb from the force of his stroke.

  Charlotte’s body moved in rhythm to his, following his lead until they were moving as one being, one entity . . . two halves of the same whole. Wave after wave of heat tore through her bloodstream, leaving an inferno in its wake. Digging her nails into his waist, she let out a shattered cry as a violent orgasm ripped through her trembling body. It wasn’t until Nicholas felt his wife’s body tighten around his, that he allowed his own release. Quickening his pace, he drove deeper into her core with a momentum that rocked both of their beings. “Dimple,” he moaned her name, the sound vibrating against her swollen lips. “I love you,” he declared. Squeezing down on Charlotte’s hips, Nicholas easily stilled her movements and moving further into her accepting garden, he let out a cry of ecstasy as his seed poured into her. It was then, and only then that he withdrew from her− an act that left them both feeling deprived of the other. Nicholas forced his leaden body off Charlotte’s, and falling to the right of her onto the welcoming mattress, he wrapped his arms around her in a lovers’ embrace. “You should sleep like a baby now,” he joked, his voice soft− tired.

  Turning over in Nicholas’ arms, Charlotte gazed up at his beautifully masculine features. His eyes were now closed, his breathing light. A thin glaze of sweat coated his brow causing his already tan skin to glow. “Nicholas,” Charlotte whispered his name.

  “Hm?” he moaned.

  “Promise me that Blithe was a one- time thing . . . that you will never cheat on me again.”

  Nicholas opened his eyes to meet her anxious gaze. Blinking back tears, he stared down at her for several seconds. Her words left him feeling crippled, bruised. Did she really need such a promise when he had showed her the extent of his affection? The moment shared between them had been one of adoration and devotion . . . had promised more than actual words ever could. Will she ever allow me freedom to move on from my mistake? He wondered. “I promise, that Blithe was a one- time thing,” he said, sincerely, repeating her words with a heavy heart. “And I will never cheat on you again.”

  Charlotte nodded her head at the sincerity of his vow, and for the first time since she’d found out about his infidelity, she felt assured.

  Chapter Five

  “Wine!” Charlotte perked up when Nicholas walked into the living room with two full wine glasses. Greedily reaching for her glass, she crossed her long legs under her firm bottom and leaned against the array of throw pillows lining the back of the couch. To call herself content would be an understatement. Sitting in her living room on a Saturday afternoon with Nicholas beside her− merely enjoying the simplicity of life brought her unthinkable joy.

  Not even twenty- four hours ago, she was devastated, and under the assumption that he had moved on. And now, much to her fulfillment, he was there, with her, watching a 90s movie, drinking red wine, and eating sushi from their favorite Japanese restaurant, Sugoi Sushi. Charlotte was in a state of pure, unfiltered bliss. “This feels like old times,” she smiled at him. “Do you remember when we would close ourselves up in here for the weekend and ignore the outside world, and all its noise?”

  “I do,” he said, returning her smile. “It wasn’t that long ago.”

  “Feels like an eternity ago,” she sighed, leaning her smaller frame against his heavier one. “I’ve missed this . . . I’ve missed you.”

  “Ditto, Dimple.”

  “So, it was between Pretty Woman and Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead and I chose−”

  “Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead,” he laughed.

  Charlotte giggled. “I did,” she beamed. “Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead is the perfect summer movie, gives me all types of summer vibes.”

  “Totally. And you know it doesn’t hurt that Christina Applegate is hot.”

  “She is a hottie. It’s her eyes that really make her face pop, I think.”

  “Gorgeous eyes,” he smirked. “That’s
absolutely what it is . . . I mean it’s always the eyes.”

  “Okay, I’m going to hit play now,” she said, pressing her lips into a thin line.

  ***

  The day had slipped through their fingers and evening was fast approaching. Jovially, Charlotte stared at Nicholas from the dining room, her gaze intense as she watched his every move. The flexing of his back muscles as he leaned forward to put Tupperware in the cabinet above the sink, biceps . . . triceps tightening− contracting. Licking her lower lip, she let out a low groan.

  The sound caught Nicholas’ attention and turning around, he eyed her curiously, his silvers fixed on her face. “Can I help with something?” he asked.

  “Just admiring your anatomy,” Charlotte mused, her eyes drifting down Nicholas’ lean, muscular physique. “You should walk around shirtless more often. You’re very pleasing to the eye.”

  “So, I’ve been told,” he smirked, teasingly. Then turning back to his task, he reached for the remaining dishes in the strainer and neatly stacked them in the cabinet, lids on one side and containers on the other.

  Charlotte’s brows narrowed at him. “By whom?” she asked, her expression suddenly serious.

  Shrugging nonchalantly, Nicholas turned to give his wife his undivided attention. “Every woman who has ever seen me naked.”

  Nodding her head, Charlotte offered him a sarcastic smile. “Mhm,” she muttered. “So, I take it you’ve heard the compliment many times . . . being that you were once a man whore.”

  Laughter burst from deep inside Nicholas at the accusation. It was an infectious giggle that made her smile, despite her desire to be severe. “You’re a fool,” she sighed, shaking her head at him. “And I wasn’t joking, you were a bit of a tramp. . .”