With a rich raspy tone, he greeted her, “Good morning, Claire.” His smile revealed the winner of his internal monologue; adoration and love showed through. He leaned down to kiss her forehead.
“Good morning, what are you doing still in bed?” The room was quite dark. “Or is it morning? It’s so dark.” The eyes watching her weren’t.
“I’ve been watching you sleep.” He slid his arm under her back, placing her head upon his shoulder. His hard strong shoulder made the perfect pillow as his arm gently surrounded her warm body.
“Why would you do that? I need a shower and probably look awful.” She buried her face into his chest, allowing his hairs to tickle her cheeks and inhaled deeply. His aroma was exhilarating.
He took her chin, turned her face toward his, and gently kissing her lips. “I’ve been watching you because you’re so beautiful. Your face is flawless”—Claire tried to look away from his eyes. They were light, honest, and real—the candidness made her uneasy—“Please don’t look away. I see you now and think about what your face looked like—what I did to you. I’m not going to keep bringing this up, but I want you to know how much I regret what happened, and to let you know how amazing I think you are. You went through so much. I don’t want anything like that to ever happen again.”
She couldn’t stop the tears from trickling down her cheeks. She wanted to hide her face, but he held her chin firmly. “Tony, I’m glad to know you’re sorry. I’m sorry too.” He let go of her chin, but she continued their gaze as she spoke. “I’m sorry about Meredith; I really didn’t say anything to her. She walked up and recognized me. Like the article said; we were sorority sisters. I never suspected she was a reporter. She asked if she could join me. I didn’t want her to; then I thought about your rules—about appearances—and I decided telling her no would be rude. I’m sorry I made the wrong decision.”
He rolled her over onto her back. The skin of his chest pressed against her bare breasts. Looking up into his face she saw only a slight darkening of his eyes. His features reminded her of those of a model—prominent cheek bones and strong jaw line. His gaze went on for an eternity before he finally spoke, “I can’t promise I’ll never get upset. I can probably promise I will; however, I promise I’ll do my best to never hurt you like that again, but, I need something from you.”
She assumed it involved gratification, and she didn’t mind. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to make me a promise”—Claire raised her eyebrows—“A promise, that you’ll do your best to follow my rules. That you’ll do your best—to never give me cause to hurt you again.”
“Tony, I promise I’ll do my best to make you proud, and I accept your apology. You don’t need to keep apologizing.” Looking at his expression she read a mixture of emotions: gratitude, adoration, and relief.
“Have I told you how amazing you were? I’ve watched you with Dr. Leonard fifty times. You were in such pain. God, even water made you sick, yet you were perfect and made me so proud. I have listened to your answers over and over. I understand his concern. Our story didn’t hold water. I was just so worried about you, lying on the floor, and I couldn’t get you to wake. I had to get you some medical help. I was upset about what I thought you’d done. The longer I waited for you to get home that night, the more betrayed I felt, and I lost control”—Claire saw such honesty in his eyes. It was like a window exposing his soul, one she didn’t think he allowed many people to see—“When you quit moving I realized what happened, and I became more upset about what I’d done. Suddenly, getting you help was more important than appearances”—He gently smoothed her hair—“You had the chance to tell someone about me, and what I did. I deserved that and more, but no, even in your condition you were perfect.” He lowered his face to her collar bone. His rough beard growth prickled her skin. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but…”—looking again into her emerald eyes, he continued—“Thank you for giving it to me.”
When he started to kiss her, her body obediently responded; however, her mind thought about the cameras and surveillance. She knew they were there. Compartmentalize. She had a lot to put away—she needed bigger compartments.
Claire felt his hardness on her leg as his lips moved down her neck to her collar bone. Her breasts pressed upward in anticipation of his mouth, and her nipples hardened as his lips lightly brushed their tips. Trying to suppress her heated desires, Claire asked for a favor, “Tony, while we’re asking for things, may I have something from you?”
“I have something for you right now,” he said between kisses—inching his way down her body, gently spreading her legs.
“And, I want that.” Claire smiled as she lifted her head to catch his eyes. “But first, can I have a promise?” Tony moved up, kissed her lips, and asked what she wanted him to promise. “You’re right, there was pain, but what haunted me for two months was the threat of you locking me in my suite. Please don’t use my honesty against me. I don’t want to be locked up alone again. It was unbearable. I know you don’t have to, but I’m asking you—please promise you’ll never threaten me with that or do that to me again.”
“Claire, I promise I’ll not lock you in your suite again, and if we each keep our promises, maintaining them all will be easier.”
“Thank you,” she sighed. His promise removed a tremendous weight and allowed her body’s yearning desires to come to the forefront. “Now what did you say about having something for me?”
He gaze held her captive. She felt her cheeks rise and her eyes glow. Despite everything, she knew the smile she exposed was real, and it was exclusively for the man above her. When Tony grinned back, she couldn’t help but notice that his expression was a little more mischievous than it had been. Her entire body trembled in anticipation.
Breakfast was served in Tony’s suite. They ate with wet hair while wrapped in thick soft white robes. Claire’s appetite had returned with a vengeance. She ate eggs, turkey bacon, toast, and fruit. She even thought about hash browns and decided maybe she should tell Catherine she liked hash browns. Tony’s voice took Claire’s attention away from her food. “I have a confession. I think I’m an example of my own rule.” Claire told him she didn’t know what he meant. He explained that although he’s thrilled with the outcome of yesterday’s drive, it wasn’t his goal.
Claire smiled and responded, “Well appearances”—looking at their wet hair and robes—“would say differently.” She used her toe to rub up and down his leg. “I’m happy with the outcome too, but what was your goal?” He told her it was simply to get her to leave the estate to go somewhere. He wanted to get her away before they needed to go somewhere. Claire reflected on the past twenty-four hours. Okay, he did that too. “Why? When do we need to go somewhere? And where do we need to go?” Her toe still wandered.
“If you keep that up, we’ll be late”—Tony’s voice didn’t sound concerned. He glanced at the clock by his bed: 11:17 AM—“Well, we’re supposed to be at Brent and Courtney’s for dinner at 3:30 PM.”
Claire thought a moment, they had four hours. “I really would rather stay here, but I suspect I don’t have a choice. How many people will be there?”
Tony confirmed she was correct—they were going and it would just be the four of them. Courtney had been asking Tony to bring Claire over since the beginning of October. They sent her flowers and cards, they must have known about her accident. Claire liked Courtney, and Tony obviously trusted them. She could do it.
While she thought about the Simmons’ and refocused on her breakfast, her toe was stopped in its exploration and lifted. She gazed toward the sensation and found Tony on the ground—holding her foot.
He slowly put her toe in his mouth and began to suckle. He watched for her reaction as her brain forgot the breakfast and impending dinner. The slight gasp that escaped her lips brought a devilish grin to his.
She immediately felt the sensation from her toe ignite pulsations elsewhere. His lips moved from her toe—to her fo
ot—to her ankle—and slowly up her leg. When he opened her robe and pulled her toward him, Claire’s body tingled in anticipation. Too soon he gave her unimaginable thrills.
Finding their way back to his bed, Tony supported himself above her lean, blossoming body and with a raspy voice he inquired, “Claire, what do you want?” She looked in his eyes again—still so light and real. He’d never asked her what she wanted. As he kissed her neck, her body responded; her back arched—pressing toward him—silently begging for his touch. He continued, “I want to hear you—no forcing—and no directions. I want to hear what you want?” His desires were clear and rubbing across her thighs.
“I want you,” Claire whispered.
That wasn’t enough; Tony wanted to hear more. “Tell me what you want. I need to know you want it as much as I do.”
“Oh, God, Tony, I want you”—her desires gave strength to her voice—“I want you inside of me”—with her body on the brink of explosion, she implored—“Please—please, Tony, take me.”
As she held tightly to his broad shoulders, her eyes closed, and he fulfilled her desires. Claire wanted every bit of him—every inch—and now that he was there—it was her turn to lose control. Without effort, her body responded to his every touch. There were no thoughts—only carnal desires as he—more than once—elicited earthshaking convulsions. There was no question—this was consensual—and Claire was getting exactly what she wanted—what she’d asked for—and still wanted more.
Tony drove to and from the Simmons’ in one of his Mercedes. It was a great ride from the back when Eric drove, but it was even better from the passenger’s seat—smooth and quiet. Tony tuned the satellite radio to a classical station. The warm car, soft music, and smooth ride almost had Claire napping. Her energy wasn’t at its pre-accident level, and her eyes began to close. Catherine told her one time not to act tired, but she wasn’t acting.
Tony glanced her way and said, “It’s all right. Why don’t you lay the seat back, and I’ll wake you when we arrive.” She did.
They had a good time with Brent and Courtney. Courtney told Claire a thousand times she needed to gain some weight—the unfortunate accident in the woods left her too thin—but she quickly added, “You’re still beautiful.” After the delicious dinner they retired to the lower level; the Vikings and the Packers were playing. Apparently, Brent and Tony were Vikings fans. Claire wondered how she didn’t know that.
While they watched the game and argued with the television, Claire and Courtney chatted. It was nice to talk to someone else. Courtney made Claire feel warm and secure. She didn’t pry, but wanted to know about Claire’s accident and recovery. Apparently, Brent told her how upset Tony had been. He couldn’t believe something like that could happen on his land. Did they ever find out if someone had been out in the woods?
The football game didn’t turn out like the men wanted. Undaunted, they all sipped red wine and played cards. Claire hadn’t played a game in so long. It was truly enjoyable. When they left the Simmons’ home, after 11:00 PM, Courtney hugged Claire, and said, “Now you promise to eat”—Claire nodded—“We’re so happy you’re feeling better.”
On the way home Tony praised Claire for all she did and said. He also informed her he needed to be in New York the following week. It was up to her if she joined him; however, she may not realize Thursday, of next week, would be Thanksgiving. He couldn’t promise he would be back. He may have to stay until Friday. He’d like her to join him—if she was up to it.
Claire knew the intense therapy of the last two days had helped revitalize her. “I may need naps, but I want to go.”
During the week between the Simmons and New York, Claire made strides in her recovery. It was as if a black veil had been lifted. For weeks—even months—the entire world was gray. The release of suppressed emotions and Tony’s promise removed the veil. The trees were still leafless and the grass still lacked color, but the world was once again alive.
Instead of sleeping to get energy, Claire began moving. First, she walked around the house, then swam in the indoor pool, and enjoyed the hot tub. She even ventured to the theater room, and she made herself watch a movie. It was a musical, Hairspray with John Travolta. She smiled. It was her first trip to the theater room since Tony had taken her there.
Monday evening they flew to New York watching the sky grow dark as they headed east. Eric drove them directly to Tony’s apartment, and Jan waited for their arrival with dinner. From the spectacular view of the seventy-sixth floor, the city vibrantly glistened with lights and activity. They ate in the dining room and watched little cars drive on busy little streets far below.
That night, exhausted from traveling, they settled into Tony’s bed and he handed Claire a black velvet box. Her shoulders slumped. “Tony, please stop. No more black velvet boxes. I have plenty of jewelry. I love it all, but I don’t need it. I feel bad about you spending all this money on me.”
“Well, first, if you haven’t noticed, money isn’t an issue, and what good is money if it doesn’t buy the things I want? Besides, this is a special gift.”
Claire raised her eyebrows.
He continued, “Somehow, with all that’s happened in the past two months, I made an awful mistake”—she feared he was talking about the accident—“I realized it when I was getting your ID and credit card.”
Now she knew what he meant; he’d missed her birthday. “It’s all right. I’ve received plenty of gifts lately.” She tried to give him back the box.
“No!” he declared. “It’s not all right. You had a birthday, your twenty-seventh, on October 17.” He firmly, yet tenderly, held her hands with the box in them, while his tone softened. “The other gifts were because of your accomplishments”—and your guilt—Claire added mentally—“This one is for your birthday.”
She looked helplessly at the box. He continued, “Okay, I’m a cheapskate.” With a frisky grin he added, “I’m regifting—again.”
Looking at the box Claire pondered the possibilities of his regifting. Her eyes opened wide as she lifted the velvet lid to reveal her grandmother’s necklace. It looked perfect—absolutely no evidence of the accident it had endured. She beamed at Tony, closed the box, and put it on the bedside stand. Scooting close to him, she rested her head on his chest as her green eyes gleamed with moisture. “I think you’re doing a great job of enticing me to feeling better. I wonder sometimes how I got here.” The fatigue made her head pound. When she closed her eyes moisture escaped as tears onto Tony’s chest. Her shields were down and mask was gone. “I know I’m here because you own me and my debt. Sometimes I feel that way, but other times you make me feel special”—she nuzzled into his warm embrace. Her words slowed as fatigue prevailed—“I don’t know any more if you’re using me or if you care about me, but I know what I hope.”
*
He listened as her words ran together. “I want you to know it didn’t start this way, but I’m willing to do what you ask—not because of my debt—but because I want you to be happy.” She couldn’t give him gifts in black velvet boxes. She could only give herself.
He kissed her hair and tasted her scent, mixed with hairspray and perfume. Holding her soft body against his, he replied, “Thank you—for making me happy.” Caressing her silky shoulder, he wanted her—all of her.
She mumbled into his chest, “Thank you, for helping my necklace, too.” Within seconds her breathing became rhythmic and she drifted to sleep.
Tony watched as her head rose and fell with each of his breaths. “God help me, I do care about you.” Gently pulling her closer, he tenderly moved her hair away from her angelic face. Seeing her sleep—peaceful and trusting—his thoughts of waking her for his desires were quickly replaced. Instead, he held her close, closed his eyes, and joined her in sleep.
Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.
—William Shakespeare
Chapter Twenty-Four
‡
Tuesday morning bustled with activit
y. Tony left early for meetings and Eric chauffeured Claire to the spa for a highlight treatment. During the two months since her last appointment, she’d barely ventured outside. She needed sun and blonde to maintain her hair. The sun wasn’t going to happen, but the blonde could. Claire agreed to a hair appointment and a manicure but declined other services. The idea of having a massage—someone touching her—made her very uncomfortable.
After her appointment, she had Eric bring her back to the apartment where she rested until Tony returned in the evening. He informed her they had plans for the following evening. He also asked if she went shopping. She explained, “I waited for you here. My head ached and I think traveling wore me out. I was just too tired.” The answers didn’t please him, but he didn’t complain or argue.
Wednesday late afternoon Claire prepared for their plans. She didn’t know what he had planned or where they were going—only to be ready by 5:00 PM. The night before, Tony had looked through the closet and inspected the clothes Catherine packed. After only brief scrutiny, Tony announced that nothing she brought would do for their plans. He wanted her to wear something special—something she chose—and everything brand-new.
Her assignment took her the better part of the day. She left the apartment early in the morning and visited Manhattan, Soho, and the Upper East Side. All of her work eventually paid off—she’d done it. Actually, she’d gotten her new outfit and a few more items. Due to her post accident leaner body, she decided some new slacks, jeans, and sweaters were in order. She refused to even calculate the total of her expenditures. Tony would know with a click of his computer, but she wasn’t concerned. He liked her to spend money. With Eric available to get her packages, the shopping was getting easier. Her new outfit consisted of a black one-shouldered silk crepe dress with a long-sleeved overlay from a quaint little boutique in Soho. The Valentino bow pumps were a perfect match from Nordstrom’s. The Kate Spade shoulder bag and stretch wool long coat came from Saks. Due to the cool November temperature the associate recommended hosiery. When Claire was shown the thigh-high sheer hose, she knew she’d be able to cover her legs and follow Tony’s rules at the same time. Of the extra items she found, her favorite was a cashmere hoodie—dusty rose—and amazingly soft. It’d be perfect for snuggling up at home with a book on a cold winter day.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 23
