by BETH KERY
In fact, something about the fragile connection of those phone calls between Chicago and New York seemed to signal a shift in her relationship with Vic. Or maybe the change had begun last Sunday morning, when she’d awakened from her typical nightmare and allowed Vic to soothe her instead of withdrawing into her typical solitude.
She doubted the wisdom of deepening the relationship with Vic. If what was between them became more serious, she’d have to tell him about Stephen. She’d have to tell him about Michael. She’d experienced a powerful urge to do just that the other day on the stairs of her new condominium. Vic had guessed that there was some story behind the “emergency” that her parents had come to retrieve her for last week. He wasn’t stupid.
But Niall was so used to vigilantly keeping her life private. It was a difficult habit to break.
And there was always the chance that he would judge her—judge her as her parents had, judge her as Stephen had . . .
It should have been you, Niall.
No. She didn’t want to dwell on that now. Right now she wanted to think about Vic, about how wonderful it would be to see him again. Had it really only been three days since she’d lain in his arms as the light of dawn broke around the shades in his bedroom?
Something in her chest seemed to lurch when the hostess led her to the private booth where Vic sat. He stood. As usual he showed not the least bit of self-consciousness about eating her up with his eyes. Every time she saw him after a brief absence she was struck anew by his rugged, elemental male beauty. He looked movie-star handsome in a pair of khakis that fit his lean hips to perfection, a casual green and ivory button-down shirt with a white T-shirt beneath it. She recognized his well-worn brown bomber jacket hanging on the coat hook attached to the deep booth.
Her eyes swept the length of him hungrily and lingered for a moment on his brown leather belt. She must have made some kind of face, because when she met Vic’s stare, the humor and heat in his gaze made the apologies for being late for their dinner date melt on her tongue.
Her silly smile faded almost as quickly when Vic leaned down and covered it with his mouth. His kiss resulted in even worse breathlessness than her sprint had caused, not to mention a slow, hot burn in her pussy that Niall had never experienced in such a public place before. His tongue swept her depths thoroughly, just as it did that first time he’d kissed her. After he’d seemingly been temporarily sated by her taste, he tilted his head, held her chin steady with his fingers, and slowed to a tender, hot slide.
That kiss kept Niall right at the boiling point, much as the previous one had turned her up to full power as easily as if he’d flipped on a switch.
“You’re the only woman I know who could look like springtime wearing black,” Vic murmured several knee-weakening seconds later. A shiver went down her spine at the sensation of his warm breath next to her ear.
She smiled and turned her head, nuzzling his cheek with her nose. Her heart beat erratically in her chest. It felt indescribably good to be in his arms again . . . to inhale his singular scent.
“I see that you got a new belt.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he murmured through a grin before he bent his head and tasted her lips again.
The hostess cleared her throat. “I’ll just set these menus down here.”
Niall started in embarrassment, realizing that the woman had been witness to her and Vic’s entire exchange. How easily he made her forget herself. But Vic would have none of her embarrassment. He tilted her chin up to meet his mouth for another hot, possessive kiss. Only after he’d had a sufficient taste of her and the unacknowledged hostess was long gone did he finally release her from his arms.
They were back around her soon enough once he slid into the booth after her. She saw that he’d already ordered her a glass of wine.
“I’m sorry for being late. I never even got a chance to drop off my suitcase before I went to the museum. How much time do we have before you have to be back at the theater?” she queried anxiously.
“I have to meet with my lighting designer in an hour.”
“Oh . . . so soon,” she murmured regretfully. She blinked after a moment when she realized that she’d been staring hungrily at his mouth. “How is everything going with the play?”
He shrugged. “It’s going.”
She smiled as she took a sip of wine. Vic’s fingers stroked her nape slowly, the seemingly casual touch setting off a series of fire-works along her sensitive nerves. He abruptly removed the clip that held her hair, allowing it to fall around her shoulders.
“Did you get everything done in New York that you intended?” he asked gruffly.
Niall’s eyes fluttered closed in sublime satisfaction at the sensation of his long fingers massaging her scalp. “Yes.”
“Did you miss me?”
Her eyelids opened and she met his hot, steady stare.
“You know I did.”
His mouth tilted into a crooked grin. His first two fingers caressed the front of her throat softly before they twisted in her strand of pearls, forcing her closer to his face.
“Do you wear these pearls just to drive me nuts?”
Niall laughed softly. “No. I sincerely doubt that most men would say that pearls were a supersexy accessory.”
“Most men are idiots, then,” he muttered as he nuzzled her ear and then lightly bit at the tender flesh. Niall felt her pussy flood with moisture when his lips closed around the pearl studs in her earlobes and his warm tongue flicked against the gem and her flesh.
“I can’t wait until opening night,” he muttered a few seconds later.
“Why?” Niall asked breathlessly. Her entire consciousness focused with unbearable intensity on every subtle movement Vic’s mouth made on her ear and neck.
“Because after all this shit with the play is said and done, I’m gonna show you just how sexy your pearls really are.”
“Do we have to wait that long?” she shocked herself by asking.
Vic exhaled slowly. Much to her regret he removed his mouth from where it was nuzzling to such breathtaking effect along the back of her neck.
“Yes,” he replied with just a tinge of irritation flattening his handsome mouth. “I’ve got a million things I need to do. If the next few nights are anything like the last two, I won’t even get back to the apartment until three or four in the morning.”
Niall brushed his lean cheek lightly with her fingertips. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep up that pace, Vic.”
“Just a few more nights of it. Opening night is the peak of the frenzy. It’ll be downhill from there. And after that, you’re all mine, Niall.” He leaned forward and planted a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. When he raised his head his expression was thoughtful.
“You never did tell me how you got a boy’s name.”
“The name Niall has been passed on to a male in the Chandler family for generations. Since my parents only had me, I was the lucky recipient.”
His eyelids narrowed slightly. “It suits you somehow. Is your father named Niall?”
She nodded.
“Guess I didn’t make a great first impression on them the other day.”
Niall flushed and glanced away. “That wasn’t your fault. They’re not usually that brusque. I think it just shocked them to see . . . us . . .” She waved her hand around in front of her. “You know.”
“They don’t think that their grown daughter has a right to her private life, including having sex,” he finished flatly.
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
Even though she kept her eyes averted, she could feel his penetrating stare on her. Her discomfort only grew when she realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to tell him about Stephen. But should she even assume that would be what Vic wanted? Just because he was sexually attracted to her didn’t mean that he wanted to share something so intimate.
The waiter approached, and Niall’s moment for self-disclosu
re passed. She told herself her ambivalence about talking to Vic about herself had absolutely nothing to do with a fear that he might condemn her.
During dinner Niall tried her best to keep her attention on the topic of conversation instead of thinking about her burgeoning relationship with Vic. But it was difficult to remain focused when she was so aware of the man that the side of her body pressed and brushed against so intimately. The movement of his neck when he swallowed beguiled her, the sensation of his fingers casually stroking her neck distracted her, the sight of his muscular, hair-sprinkled forearms just plain turned her on.
“My mother and Meg are going to be here on Friday afternoon,” Vic said as the waiter cleared the remains of their dinner.
“You’re going to be busy at the theater, aren’t you?” Niall asked. When he nodded, she added, “I’d love to take them out to dinner before the play. Would you extend the invitation?”
“Sure,” Vic muttered. Niall colored when she realized that he studied her intently while he spoke, and that the message in his eyes nowhere near matched their casual verbal exchange.
“We have some delicious dessert offerings for you this evening. May I tell you about our specials?” the enthusiastic waiter asked.
“What we’d like is some privacy.”
At first the waiter looked a little nonplussed at Vic’s bluntness but he recovered swiftly, merely nodding and offering a slightly offended “of course” before he walked away.
“Subtle, Vic,” Niall murmured in amusement.
“He’s the one who’s being thick. Any fool could see that what I’m interested in isn’t on the dessert menu.”
Niall’s gasp of surprise when he covered her mouth with his own segued to a low moan of arousal in a matter of seconds. She didn’t think of protesting when his fingers lowered from her neck inside her blouse, where he lightly caressed her breast. Her nipples beaded tight beneath his plucking fingertips. She arched her back, pressing her flesh into his palm. How was it that he always knew precisely when to be soft with her and when to be hard? His gentle, stroking fingers made her burn with a desire for more of his magical touch.
When he suddenly seemed intent on granting her wish, however, Niall was shocked.
“Vic what are you doing?” she whispered against his lips when he slipped his big hand beneath her skirt and skimmed his fingertips across her thigh.
“You’re wearing a garter belt?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” she muttered when he slid his forefinger beneath the elastic of the garter and trailed it up to the bottom of her panties.
“You are such a good girl,” he muttered with a naughty grin.
Niall’s eyes widened in stark disbelief and arousal when he pressed two fingers against her labia and moved rhythmically. She glanced around the restaurant nervously. They were fairly secluded in the deep booth. She couldn’t see anyone directly, but she definitely heard the muted sound of voices and clinking dinnerware in the distance.
“Vic, people will see,” she whispered.
His answer to that consisted of fluffing out the tablecloth until it covered her lap and to keep right on doing what he was doing. Niall’s face pinched tight with lust when he began to pulse his long fingers vertically as well, working the hard ridge of his forefinger between her swollen lips until he directly stimulated her clit.
“Your panties are wet,” he whispered as he nuzzled her ear. “Much too wet to have gotten that way just now. Were you getting turned on while we ate dinner?”
“Yes,” Niall admitted. She turned her head and tried to get to his lips, but he backed up slightly, eluding her. She gave a shaky cry when his fingers pushed aside the triangle of silk that covered her seeping sex. He growled in satisfaction as he stroked her clit with eye-crossing precision.
“You always get so wet for me,” he murmured warmly into her ear. “Spread your thighs, baby.”
“Vic . . .” she protested weakly. It felt so good . . . but they were in a restaurant for God’s sake.
“Shhh,” he soothed as he pressed several hot kisses against her neck. “You wouldn’t be so cruel as to make me wait two more nights before I feel you shake in my arms, would you? Open your thighs and lean back just a tad . . . That’s it,” he praised when she allowed him to tilt her upper body back, granting him better access to her pussy.
Niall gasped in pleasure when he plunged his last two fingers into her pussy while he continued to stimulate her clit with a firm, ruthless pressure.
“You’re turning red. Always a good sign,” he murmured as he brushed his lips over her flaming cheeks. Niall just stared up blindly at a place where the wall met the ceiling as he finger-fucked her forcefully at the same time that he pressed and glided against her clit. She clenched her eyes shut in the sweetest of agonies when the wet, slurping sounds of his fingers moving in her abundant juices reached her ears.
“Oh,” she whispered in a choked voice after a minute, “it burns.”
“Just let it happen,” he ordered quietly.
She couldn’t refuse him. She bit her lip to still her cries a moment later as she came.
When she’d quieted and opened her eyes dazedly, Vic matter-of-factly scooted her hips forward on the seat of the booth. He leaned her against his arm before he reached back under the tablecloth and pushed his first and second finger into her pussy. The new angle allowed him to penetrate her deeply. He sealed off her cry with his mouth on her lips. Niall moaned in arousal and bemusement as he kissed the living daylights out of her at the same time that he plunged into her pussy with a hard, relentless rhythm.
When he finally raised his head a second later, she was—much to her shock—well on her way to a second orgasm. She moaned in disappointment when he withdrew his fingers before she could reach it.
His eyes gleamed with arousal as he held her stare and quickly dipped his fingers into his mouth. She almost climaxed from the visual stimulation of his lean cheeks hollowing and his muscular throat contracting as he sucked and swallowed her juices. He always seemed so genuinely hungry for her taste . . . so ruthless about getting it. When he withdrew his fingers, he covered her gaping mouth with a hard, quick kiss.
“That was what I wanted for dessert,” he told her gruffly. “Sit up now, baby.”
Niall struggled into an upright position at Vic’s abrupt command. The waiter appeared not two seconds later, carrying the bill. He waited with a stiff expression on his face while Vic took out his wallet and threw a credit card into the leather folder.
Thank God, she thought dazedly. Vic must have heard or seen the waiter approaching. She’d been too mindless with excitement to have noticed much of anything but her approaching orgasm.
Was there nothing she wouldn’t do for this man, Niall wondered with a mixture of awe and unease as she studied his starkly beautiful profile.
When Niall heard the brisk knock at her front door, she studied her appearance in the bathroom mirror anxiously. Not bad, she guessed. She’d never attended an opening night at the theater and she had forgotten to ask Vic what kind of attire was appropriate. She couldn’t imagine Vic showing up in anything too formal. That just wasn’t his style. In the end, she’d settled for a creamy silk blouse, a chocolate brown skirt, and her favorite buttery soft leather boots that hugged her calves tightly.
Beneath it she wore a sexy bra, panty, and garter belt ensemble. That part of her attire was for later . . . with Vic. The thought made her stomach flutter with excitement as she headed toward the front door.
She smiled warmly when she let in the two women standing in the hallway. They were both tall and striking, and wore identical broad grins on their faces.
“Well, let’s not stand on ceremony,” the younger of the two said as she stepped forward and gave Niall a hug. “I’m Meg Sandoval, and this is my mother, Ellen. And you’re Niall, of course. Any woman who can make my little brother smile on an opening night deserves a hug, don’t you think, Mom?”
“Absolutely,
” Ellen Savian stated matter-of-factly. “She’d deserve one anyway, for taking us out to dinner.”
Vic had inherited both his mother’s eyes and her direct manner, Niall realized as Ellen studied her closely and unabashedly for a moment.
“Well, my goodness, you’re pretty! Isn’t she pretty, Meg?”
“Mom,” Meg scolded, “you’ll embarrass her. You’ll have to excuse us, Niall. We’re just a couple of country bumpkins.”
Niall laughed at that as she led them down the hallway. “You hardly look like bumpkins to me. Won’t you come in and have a drink before we go to dinner?”
Certainly Vic’s mother and sister were refreshingly blunt and honest, but what Niall had said about them hardly seeming like bumpkins was the absolute truth. Their height, handsome figures, and striking features afforded them a natural elegance that most women would have killed to possess.
Niall genuinely enjoyed getting to know Meg and Ellen during dinner. She discovered that Meg was the high school principal in a small town near Vic’s farm and that she loved art. She was, in fact, a member of the Chicago Metropolitan Museum and had attended three of Niall’s special exhibitions in the past. She was thrilled when Niall offered to give her and Ellen a private tour of the museum the following day.
Ellen Savian charmed Niall with her combination of keen intelligence and unapologetic small town ways. She refused to be embarrassed by her curiosity on any topic, and that included asking Niall point-blank what she thought about her son, and telling the waiter at dinner that she hadn’t yet had her full requirement of calcium today, and could he please bring her a tall glass of whole milk to drink along with her wine.
“And a cup of ice, too, if you don’t mind,” Ellen had added before the waiter walked away. “Meg always tells me you’re supposed to drink red wine at room temperature, but hot wine is about as appetizing as cold pizza, if you ask me,” she told Niall with a confidential nod of her head.
“Have you ever been inside the Hesse?” Meg asked Niall after dinner when they entered the crowded theater lobby.
