All of the pent-up impatience of being without him explodes as our lips clash, tongues sweep together, and our restless souls ignite. There is nothing gentle about our union—there never is. Everything about this moment is incendiary, rapacious and yet it’s insanely amorous. Jesus Christ, I need him as much as I need to breathe. Desire burns through me as one of his hands leaves my ass and travels up my back, grasps my neck and yanks me closer to him so his mouth can ravish mine.
“Oh, my love,” he pants between kisses.
“I missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed tasting you,” he answers before claiming my mouth again.
Nikolaj’s lips slant over mine and his tongue slips into my mouth, coiling, flirting, and toying with mine in a stratospheric deluge of passion. After a few minutes of a rapturous panty-wetting make-out session, he brings his hand to my face and cups my jaw as he breaks from our kiss. He draws his face back, and his blue eyes, dark and vibrant with arousal, hold mine.
“Christ, if not for the meal I’ve prepared, I’d take you right now.”
“I’m up for it. Where should we start? The couch? The floor? Maybe another session on the deck? Should we give the granite countertop on the kitchen island a try?”
“Hmmm, it’s not that I don’t desperately want you, but I’ve spent the past few hours slaving in a hot kitchen. I want to feed you before I fuck you.”
I smile. “What are you reheating?”
“I’m actually cooking.” He lowers me onto my feet as if I’m a delicate work of art.
Huh? “You mean you grabbed a few prepared meals Pierre-Henry tucked away for us in the fridge, you placed them in a pan and you’re reheating them?”
“Nope. I mean I’m cooking from scratch.”
Has he been drinking?
“Okay, I’ll humor you. What’s for dinner?” I ask, pursing my lips and raising my eyebrow.
“Are you mocking me, Ms. Herrera?”
“Honey, you’ve had a personal chef cooking for you for the past ten years.”
“Fifteen.”
“My point exactly.”
“What can I say? I’ve been lucky in business.”
“Right. While the rest of us were stressing out trying to figure out how to pay our student loans, you already had a chef cooking for you and I wouldn’t even be surprised if you already owned that swanky jet of yours.”
“That might be true, but I have many talents you don’t even know about yet. I think I’ll surprise you.”
I’m pretty sure he’s pulling my leg, but I’m willing to go along for the fun of it.
I cross my arms over my chest and size him up with a half grin. “All right, you said you were cookin’, what am I going to eat, mister?”
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Are we celebrating something?” I search my memory bank hoping I’ll remember what it is I’ve forgotten, but I just can’t.
“After Dylan attacked you, I flew back from Japan and you had prepared a decadent meal. I opened up and confessed that I can only cook one meal and I promised I’d fly you to Toronto on my way back for you to taste it. My good-for-nothing older brother Jakob put yet another wrench in my plans and that meal never happened.”
“It’s all coming back to me now.”
“I thought it was high time for me to make good on my promise. So tonight I’m treating you to a simple yet savory Italian meal. It might be the only thing I can prepare, but let me tell you that over the years I’ve mastered this dish,” he declares proudly.
“Did you put on Sam Smith in the hopes I’d give you higher marks for your impromptu feast?” I ask, pointing at the speakers encased in the ceiling.
Nikolaj transfixes me with his intoxicating stare. “Uh-uh.” He shakes his head. “Since you found your wedding dress, which I’m sure will give me a heart attack when I see you walk down the aisle—”
“You have no idea.” I grin.
He returns my silly grin. “And since Colette’s team has started sending out the invitations to our wedding—heck, they’ve even started booking flights for the guests who’ve already RSVPed—and since Kayla’s chef and pastry chef have a full menu for us to come down and taste… I agree, we should figure out which will be our first song. Let’s listen to all of them and pick the one we both like.”
“All this is crazy good, right?”
Colette is a true wizard. In a little over a week, she’s managed to check off so many important tasks from the long list of things to do leading to the wedding and the best part is my involvement is minimal. She’s a true professional and it’s no wonder Kayla snatched her to work for her.
“Less than two months to go.” He curls up his lips and waggles his eyebrows.
“I know.” It should be outlawed to be this giddy.
“Every morning when you wake up in my arms, I mentally cross off another day before you become my wife.”
“I do the same.” Most times in life we want things to slow down so we can catch our breath and appreciate the little moments, but in this case, if I could blink and be standing by Nikolaj’s side in front of the priest, I would. “So your mom did take the news in stride?”
“Well…”
Oh, no.
“What do you mean, well?”
“Our upcoming wedding is bringing up a lot of stuff for my mom.”
Shit. He lied to me.
“You told me she was okay with our decision. There’s more to it?” I ask, my voice higher pitched than normal. “This meal isn’t about us, it’s about distracting me before you drop the bomb on me?”
I had hoped that our decision to have our wedding in Grasse wouldn’t put a wrench in my relationship with Nicoline, but after finding out Nikolaj is cooking the only meal he knows how to prepare on the night of his arrival from delivering serious news to his mother, I can’t help but think the worst.
His eyebrows quirk up. “That’s not what I said.”
I frown when I see what I think is a momentary flash of worry blaze through his eyes. “Maybe not in so many words, but that’s what you mean.” I take a few steps back. My stomach ties up in a knot and I bring my hand to my tummy to appease this uneasy feeling taking over me.
A shadow passes across his blue irises at my words. My accusation. “No, it’s not,” he states, moving his gaze away from mine and looking out the large window behind me before continuing. “If you had asked me to bet on my mom’s reaction to the news, I would have lost.” The muscle in his jaw tics as his eyes track something above my head. “Yes, there’s more, but it’s so deep, there was no way I could cover any of it in a text or when we talked at the end of the day.”
None of this adds up. “Just give it to me straight instead of sugar-coating it, Nik.”
“Baby—”
“I might as well face the music now.”
“You’ve done nothing—”
“Oh, shit,” I say, freaked out, when a thought hits me. “She hates me, doesn’t she? I’ve upset your mom with my decision. Our decision.”
Now it’s his turn to take a few steps back from me. We now stand a few feet apart, staring at each other. I’m fully aware of the heavy silence overwhelming us. I wait for him to say something. Anything. When he still stares at me silently, I shrug before looking down and twisting the magnificent engagement ring I cherish so much on my left ring finger. I look back up at him. His eyes are focused on my ring and it takes him a few seconds to meet my gaze.
Maybe he’s thinking the same thing I’m thinking now. Maybe his mother’s reaction and her discontentment might have caused him to second-guess our wedding. It did for Luke. The two men are polar opposites in terms of their personalities, but in my experience, blood is always thicker than water.
He shakes his head and takes a couple of steps toward me. “Ciara, for the love of God. You’ve got it all wrong.” He closes the gap between us.
“Please don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” I say in a sof
t, pained voice. “Just put me out of my misery,” I beg, on the verge of tears.
He sighs heavily before speaking again. “Look at me.” He places two fingers under my chin until we lock eyes. “Nothing and no one will prevent me from marrying you. Until you say ‘I do,’ I don’t ever want you to question my unwavering love and devotion. Sure, we’ll hit a few bumps in the road, but know this, Ciara, I’ll always fight for you.”
I don’t even have a moment to register his words before his mouth crushes down on mine. He commands the kiss with a fiery fervor that has my head spinning, my sanity fraying, and my body craving him in spite of the fact I’m upset at him for hiding the whole truth from me. He kisses me with such vehement hunger, it’s as if we haven’t already exchanged a heart-stopping embrace a few minutes ago. I cast my worries aside because at this moment in time, I have no choice but to ride the wave that he is controlling because I’m too caught up into him to want any of this to ever stop. He slowly breaks our embrace and I’m still caught up in this bewildering dizziness.
“What was that for?” I ask, panting.
“I couldn’t figure out another way of getting you to calm down so you hear what I have to say.”
I grin. “Do it again,” I demand, raising my eyebrows suggestively.
“I’ll do it all night long if you allow me to explain.”
“Okay, I’ll shut up and listen.”
“Thank you. Everything is fine, baby.”
“Is it? Then why did you refuse to go into more details about what your mom said when you announced that she had to cancel all her big wedding plans?”
Our frolicking exchange has given place to heavy seriousness again.
“Because some of the things she shared were pretty shocking.”
“I knew it,” I blurt out, panic setting into the pit of my stomach again. She despises me now.
“Ciara, whatever you think you know, chances are you’re dead wrong. Even the people closest to my mom didn’t know what she’s been going through in the last few months.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Let’s just say that my trip to Copenhagen turned out to be very different from what I expected. My mom’s been going through hell and she’s been too afraid to reach out to anyone. Her obsession with our wedding is in direct correlation with her current state of mind.”
“Wow.” I’d love to come up with a clever repartee, but we’re talking about my future in-laws here and I’d rather tread carefully until Nikolaj tells me exactly what’s going on.
“There are a lot of layers to this story,” he says, pulling me by the hand. “Come into the kitchen. I’ll feed you as if you’re my Cleopatra and I’ll bare my soul to you, my queen.”
How in the world can I resist this man?
* * *
“Hmmm,” I moan, closing my eyes. “Hot damn, these are amazing.”
“You like the taste of my balls against your tongue, don’t you?”
“God, yes.”
“More?”
I shake my head, licking my lips. “I don’t know if I can handle any more. Don’t get me wrong, honey, your balls are so succulent and juicy, but I should stop while I’m ahead.”
A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “After five days of being apart, I knew you’d love my balls even more than you did before I left.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m pleasantly surprised by their generous size. They’re nice, big and heavy,” I say, lifting my palms towards the ceiling while pretending to cup imaginary spheres. I move my hands slightly up and down in the air for effect.
“Sounds like you could gorge on my balls every night of the week.”
We both laugh.
“Seriously, Nik, your moist and seasoned to perfection polpettes accompanied by your garlicky rapini and roasted potatoes were out-of-this-world delicious. I’m impressed.” I shove the last bite in my mouth.
“Bianca, the little Italian lady from that cooking school in Florence, taught me to how to make meatballs the traditional way. I was pretty much like all the other students in the class who thought meatballs top a plate of pasta, but it turns out that’s an American adaptation that made its way to the UK and beyond.”
“Yeah.” I nod knowingly.
“Of course. I keep forgetting that along with being a brilliant lighting designer, my fiancée used to be a chef.”
“You’re lucky I love you so much or else I’d never forgive you.”
“Oof. I dodged that bullet,” he says, wiping a fictitious bead of sweat from his forehead.
“Baby, the meal was spectacular.” I’m still unable to get over Nik’s hidden talent.
“Ready for the next course? It’s dessert.”
“If it’s as good as your arugula salad topped with caramelized pear and Gorgonzola cheese and your succulent polpettes, I’m all in.”
“Hold on tight. I’ll be right back.” He smiles boyishly as he jumps to his feet before running back to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Nikolaj returns holding two bowls. His proud grin lets me know I’m in for a treat.
“How many extra calories am I going to pack on?” I lament as I grab the bowl he’s handing me.
“Trust me. They’ll all be worth it. Something tells me you’ll love this.”
The fact that Nikolaj was able to concoct such a perfectly cooked meal is one thing, but all of a sudden my fiancé turns into this master pastry chef? What’s going on here?
I shake my head, amazed, when I take note of the tempting treat floating at the bottom of my bowl. “You even aced this?” I cheer.
“What did you expect?”
Instead of answering, I dig into the Italian dessert.
“God, this is insanely delicious,” I moan, closing my eyes to take in every single sweet layer of the first bite.
Nikolaj seizes me from the side before leaning into me. He drops a kiss against my cheek before speaking. “I thought I was going to have to work much harder, but if this is all it takes to hear you make that cock-hardening sound, I’ll run back to the kitchen and make more,” he breathes in my ear.
“You must know by now that I find everything about you irresistible,” I respond before shoving another spoonful in my mouth.
“Ditto, love.”
We both sit in a familiar silence savoring one of my all-time favorite Italian desserts.
“Diego’s right.”
“I’m a bit apprehensive to ask about what.”
“You’re a keeper.” I smile into my spoon, polishing off the last bite of my affogato.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he mocks. “I have you to thank for teaching me how to prepare this simple and sexy treat. Placing a few ladyfinger cookies at the base of a bowl, topping them with rich vanilla ice cream and pouring espresso coffee on top and calling it a dessert? That I can handle.” He reaches out for my bowl and places it next to his on the glass coffee table. “More wine?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. You’ve already done so much for the evening. Let’s just sit here and chill.”
“I love how you think.”
After a decadent meal that makes me grateful I traded my tight-fitting jeans for these comfortable shorts, we sit on our plush white Mongolian lamb area rug in the living room sipping a glass of white Bordeaux while bobbing our heads to the sultry vibe. I’m so satiated after indulging on a few too many of Nikolaj’s meatballs and his nearly celestial dessert, the only thing I want to do is cuddle in his arms. This laid-back moment is the best part of us getting back together after a long period of time apart from each other.
Nikolaj slides closer to me and grabs me by the back of my neck. The hunger I read in his eyes matches mine. “Now that I’ve fed you, is it time to fuck you?” He rests his forehead on mine, our noses brushing each other’s.
“Maybe I’m not ready yet,” I tease. “What if I wanted another round of dessert?”
There’s no way I can fit anything more in my tummy, but he doesn’t need
to know that.
“You want more sweets?” He raises his eyebrows. “Come to think of it, it’s not such a bad idea after all. I did notice some crème fraîche in the fridge.”
Huh? “Are you planning on preparing a cream pie with the whipped cream?”
“Heavens, no.” He grinds the words out. “That sounds far too complicated. That said, I can think of a myriad of naughty things I can do with it. And they all involve your pussy.” Damn him. I drink up each one of his words. “What do you think?”
I lower my eyes momentarily to the visible beat of his pulse against his Adam’s apple. “How do you expect me to think straight when you say inebriating stuff like that?”
A suggestive smile lingers. “This could be interesting. We’ve never tried that before,” he murmurs as he reaches out to play with a few strands of hair flirting with the side of my face. His fingers roam to my bun and tugs gently. My curls cascade free, falling down my back like a blanket. He runs his fingers through them, fisting a handful and pulling back until I’m forced to lock eyes with him. He holds my curls tightly, making it impossible for me to look away.
“Fuck,” I hiss. He leans in before sliding his tongue into my mouth, tasting of espresso and wine, before he eases his sweet assault. “Don’t stop,” I purr. I arch my neck, offering him all of me. I’ll never get enough of his intoxicating taste.
“You greedy little girl. You can’t get enough of me, can you?” he mocks.
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” He rewards me by laying a row of feather-light kisses down my neck before coming back to my lips. He slides his tongue against mine—toying, dallying, kindling. I could stay enveloped in Nik’s arms all day and all night, but the distinct siren of a fire truck rushing by at the base of our apartment building combined with the roaring engine of an airplane flying above us bring me back to my senses and to the realization that we still have an important subject we’re both avoiding discussing. Nikolaj brushes my lips gently as we break from our amorous trance. His hands remain cupping my face though. It’s clear I’m not the only one who doesn’t want this to end. He rests his forehead against mine. We’re both panting, trying to calm our ragged breathing. If I don’t snap out of this, I’m likely to forget all about my soon-to-be mother-in-law and submit to him. “Don’t think you can kiss me and make it better,” I sigh, pressing the heel of my palm to his chest. “If you’re trying to distract me, it’s not going to work. We’re making out like teenagers when you should be spilling your guts. Start talking, Nikolaj,” I warn. “I’ve waited long enough. I’m entitled to know what happened in Copenhagen.”
Always & Forever Page 18
