“What about you?” She actually sounded outraged.
“I’d go through the last fifteen years all over again if it meant you would be waiting at the other end.”
HOW COULD HE sound so certain? Desiree thought of the hell he’d been through. She thought of the woman he’d obviously loved. Even though he’d done something so horribly wrong to her, he’d pulled himself back to the surface. The guy had been clean for ten years. Ten years! Could anyone else say they had that kind of strength? Could she?
“Does my brother know I found this place?”
There was something in his smile that made her heart flutter like it was about to stop. “I mentioned it to him yesterday.”
“My name.” His standoffish behavior suddenly made perfect sense. “I told you my name for the first time the other night. That’s why you sent me packing the next morning.”
“Your brother has always been a good friend.”
“I will never understand male rules. It’s like you guys make them up as you go.”
“Sometimes we do.”
She looked around at the darkened room and tried to picture Erik lounging at a table or sitting at the bar. Surprisingly it wasn’t difficult. “What did he say when you told him?”
There was a subtle hesitation that made Desiree wonder how much of a jackass Erik had been. “He doesn’t know you very well.”
No, he didn’t. Nicolai was the only one who did seem to know her. More than that, he understood her.
Lowering his head, he brushed a featherlight kiss against her forehead. “He wants what’s best for you.”
“So he says. Let me guess. Did he tell you to stay the hell away from me?”
She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to ask such a question. She didn’t really want the answer, because she was afraid she already knew. If high-and-mighty Erik had demanded Nicolai stay away from her, would he do it?
He took forever to answer—long enough that she dreaded his response. “After tonight it doesn’t matter what Erik said.”
“Why tonight?”
“After everything that happened, you came to me for help.”
Until he said it, the significance of that small fact hadn’t fully impacted her. Her pseudodate with Jackson had been terrifying. Her sister’s fiancé had intended to rape her in the corner of a ballroom, with only palm trees and banana plants for cover. Worse, he’d alluded to the fact that he intended to continue their “relationship” after his marriage to her sister. The man was a depraved pervert. But her first instinct after climbing into the cab wasn’t to run home to her family. The only thing she’d been able to think about was Nicolai, about how badly she’d wanted that sense of comfort his solid presence always provided.
“I’m safe with you,” she finally told him. “I think this is the only place I’ve ever felt like I could really be me. You’re the only one who has ever told me to quit apologizing for myself and live my own life.”
“Did I say that?”
She swatted his arm.
“I just want you to stop trying to please everyone else. Mothers and even brothers always want what they think is best. But you’ve spent years twisting yourself into little knots trying to fit that ideal. In the end you’ve got to let all that go and become your own woman.”
His fingers slid over the keys. She didn’t know much about music, but the melody struck her as sad. “You said your mother taught you to play. Do you ever play in the bar?”
“Only to an empty house.”
“Why?”
He shrugged and moved his hands. The new music was familiar, but it took her a moment to recognize one of the overplayed pop songs the wedding planner had suggested for Selena’s reception. “You could be selling tickets or charging at the door if there was live music in here.”
“I hate playing this bubblegum crap. I’d rather make a little less tending bar than be miserable playing to audience.”
How long had it been since Desiree stood in front of her bathroom mirror and told Selena it wasn’t about the money? A day? Two? Didn’t it always come back to that? How much money you had, how much you spent, what you spent it on, what it could get you, and who it could buy. Those were the things that defined her world.
“Erik thinks I’m nothing but a spoiled shopaholic.” She gazed into his face, trying to read in his eyes if he saw her the same way. “Everyone thinks that.”
“You let them.”
“Because I don’t tell them otherwise.”
He put his hands in his lap, focusing his full attention on her. “Because you let it be true.”
His words made her angry. She got up, tugging the hem of her borrowed T-shirt down over her butt. “I like to shop. I enjoy buying things for myself, for other people, for…for whatever. That doesn’t make me a spoiled shopaholic.”
“Define whatever.”
Out of everything she’d said, that was what he zeroed in on? She turned her back and stared at the shadowy shapes of the tables and chairs clustered around the bar. It was really a haphazard mess. She got that he wanted a laid-back atmosphere. If you looked up “unassuming” in the dictionary, it probably told you to see Nicolai. She wondered if it was a Greek thing.
She remembered looking over a large spread of photos and hotel information about the Mediterranean when she’d been putting together some possible destinations for Selena’s honeymoon. Desiree had never been to Greece. She loved France, had enjoyed a trip to London, and had vacationed in Mexico every summer during her school years. Now, looking at Nicolai’s bar, she recalled the open layouts of most of the Greek restaurants she’d seen in the pamphlets. Large rooms crowded with big tables, pale stone walls, and a cool, comfortable mix of textures: smooth linen, gritty walls, worn floors, alcoves filled with green plants, and above it all, that brilliant blue sky.
He wouldn’t have to change much to make the bar more inviting. She knew a great artist who could paint a mural on the long wall to keep it from being so stark. Adding a few smaller tables might make it seem more inviting to couples. They could tone down the dreary front windows by adding some trim, put in a few outdoor light fixtures to give it a kind of patio feel, and fake plants didn’t require any maintenance but added a lot of atmosphere.
Define whatever.
The answer hit her like a freight train. “I like texture and color and contrast. I want to maximize space and see a theme tie two completely unrelated areas together. I like to walk into a room and let it tell me every little secret about the person who lives there.”
“So is it really about shopping?”
She thought about preselecting color swatches with Selena’s wedding planner to keep her sister from biting the poor woman’s head off. Of remodeling their geriatric butler’s quarters so his arthritic knees didn’t bother him so badly anymore. She remembered designing her brother’s kitchen to suit his bizarre culinary style. “No, it isn’t about shopping.”
“Then what is it about?”
“I’ve spent my whole life pretending to be exactly what everyone wants me to be.” She wandered toward the piano, brushing her fingers over the sleek black finish. “When we were little, our clothes had to be perfect. Our rooms were completely devoid of toys you could really play with. It was like being stuffed into a mold. As I got older, I realized there was a way to balance style and comfort. Over the years I’ve been redefining my space, making it fit me. Sometimes I like doing the same for other people too. But real life doesn’t always allow that. I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions at once.”
“So when push comes to shove, which direction will you choose?” He stood up, stepping away from the piano.
His words sent thoughts swirling inside her head. Reality, perception, expectations, and the nature of family and social position weren’t supposed to be the things you discussed with a fling. Except that Nicolai wasn’t a fling.
“What is this?” She gestured to the two of them. “What are we?”
“Do you really need to slap a label on it?” He caught her hand in his, tugging her closer.
He was warm and vital. Larger than life, larger than reality or social convention, he just was. Calling him her boyfriend was ridiculous, and lover didn’t quite encompass it. The first night she’d been looking for casual sex, but there was nothing casual about this anymore.
He drew her hands up, placing them around his neck and stretching her full length against his body. His chest was bare, the silver bars gleaming in the dim light. He lowered his lips to her neck, carefully avoiding her bruised windpipe and brushing a kiss over the sensitive skin below her ear. “How about sex? That’s a word.”
Heat seared her pussy, arousal tugging at her belly until she couldn’t draw a full breath.
“Or passion?” He slid his hands beneath the T-shirt, splaying them against her rib cage. “That’s a good word.”
She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to be patient. His hands moved slowly down her body until he cupped her ass. Her pussy clenched, and she perched on the edge of anticipation for the moment when he would spread her legs and penetrate her body.
“I can smell your arousal.” He pulled her closer, pushing the hard bulge behind his jeans against her. “That’s a good word for you.”
Her nipples were throbbing, pulsing behind the cotton barrier as they pouted their desire to be pressed against him, skin to skin. She contemplated the fact that he’d given her a few kisses and three whispered words, and she was already halfway to orgasm.
“Fuck.”
She opened her eyes and stared up into his face. “Is that one of your words?”
“No, it’s what I need to do to you right now before my dick strangles to death in my jeans.”
She let go of his neck and reached for his fly. His cock spilled into her hands, warm and hard. She pushed impatiently at his jeans, feeling a desperate sense of urgency.
“Don’t bother with those. Just hold on to my neck.”
She gasped when he plucked her right off the floor.
“I’m going to take you right now, Desiree.”
His big hands supported her thighs, holding her open as he slid his thick cock deep into her core. She cried out at the abrupt invasion, not in pain but exquisite pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so right.
She felt cold brick at her back. He’d pressed her against the bare surface of a pillar only a step or two away from the piano. The heat of his body was a stark contrast, the sensations blending together. He drove his hips up and in, thrusting deeply until she was crying out with each stroke.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself meeting his intense gaze. Emotion flickered like candlelight across his face. The muscles in his jaw drew taut, softening and then growing harsh as he approached his climax. She loosened her grip, trusting him to hold her. Cupping his cheek in her palm, she brushed her thumb over his lower lip before leaning in and kissing him deeply.
She used her tongue to mimic the movement of his cock in her pussy. The rhythm increased until her nerves sang with the need to come. He growled, thrusting hard, his shaft pulsating inside her body as he spilled his seed deep into her womb. Nipping his lower lip, she shattered into orgasm.
Her body was limp, her muscles too sated to move. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and soaked up the scent of him. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever get enough of him.
He nuzzled her neck. “Do you still need a word?”
“Why? Do you have another one?”
“Again.” He didn’t let her go, supporting her with both arms as he carried her toward the stairs. “That’s a good word.”
Casual sex wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this. She brushed his face with her fingertips and said the one word she shouldn’t have. “Always.”
Chapter Twelve
Desiree shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she waited for her brother to answer his front door. She had keys, but ever since Erik had married Talia, Desiree had felt as if it would be horribly rude just to walk into their home.
She felt like a vagabond. She wore a pair of sweats she’d rolled half a dozen times at the waist and ankles, one of Nicolai’s T-shirts, and a pair of socks. Her dress from the night before had been a total loss, but she wasn’t ready to go home for a change of clothing. That left her either naked or wearing her current ensemble. While Nicolai might not mind her strutting around in the buff, she wasn’t quite that brave just yet.
Beside her, Nicolai was a rock-solid presence. She felt like a little girl. She should’ve been able to do this on her own. She was a grown woman, but she was glad he’d come. She hadn’t had to ask him. He’d simply called a cab and got in with her.
She reached down and took his hand. “Thank you.”
The heat in his brown eyes warmed her from head to toes. He looked as if he was about to say something, but the door swung wide open before he could answer.
“Come in!” Talia’s friendly expression didn’t chase away Desiree’s case of nerves. “It’s so good to see you both.”
Still clutching Nicolai’s hand, Desiree followed her sister-in-law into the foyer. She’d only been back to her brother’s town house a few times since he’d married. It felt odd to be a guest in a place she’d once called her home away from home. “You haven’t changed much since you moved in.”
Talia brushed her fingers over the oiled railing as she started up the steps. “It didn’t need changing, Dee Dee. The first time I walked in here I thought it looked like the place was just waiting for a family.”
Desiree sighed at the use of her hated nickname and put her standard fallback smile on full display. “And now you’re having one.”
“Josh told me he accidentally let the cat out of the bag the other day.” She took a few more steps and turned. “Erik feels really badly that he didn’t tell you first. It’s my fault. I didn’t want your mother to hear about it until we were past the first trimester. Setting her up for disappointment is on my short list of stupid ideas.”
“I understand.” And she did, sort of. Desiree understood that her brother loved this woman more than anything in the whole world, including his sister. As to the implication, intentional or otherwise, that Desiree would somehow let the secret slip to her mother? She wasn’t even going to tackle that one. Not right now. Not with all this Selena shit to worry about.
Talia looked over Desiree’s outfit. “You’ve still got a closet full of clothes in the guest room if you want to go and change.”
“That would be fantastic, thank you.”
“I’ll wait right here.” Nicolai’s hand settled in the small of her back, a patch of warmth that contrasted with the clammy feeling creeping over the rest of her body. She’d known him less than a week, but she was more comfortable with him than with the members of her own family.
Desiree pushed open the guest room door and sighed as it clicked shut behind her. The airy blue and white decor was studded with navy accents. It was elegant and understated. At one time it had felt like home.
This was no time to wallow in self-pity. She strode across the cream-colored carpet to the walk-in closet. Erik had once called his town house her base of operations. Meaning she used his closets to store her overflow purchases when Sachs or Bergdorfs had a sale she couldn’t pass up.
She chose a patterned Dior chiffon skirt that hit her midthigh and a cute wool jacket, both in purple. The darker hue of the skirt set off her tanned legs and made her feel graceful. She chose all her clothing to downplay her larger build. Desiree pulled out a pair of trusty black heels she kept on hand for emergencies and buckled them on with a sigh. Now she felt seminormal.
She took a quick look in the mirror of the en suite bathroom and knew she didn’t have enough time or supplies to fix her appearance. A quick wash and a run-through with a brush would have to do. The woman who stared back at her looked haunted, like a homeless person. Which she sort of was. It was a disheartening thought.<
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Where was home anyway? She’d been living on the family estate her whole life, but that wasn’t home. It was more like a prison. So why did she stay? Why was she so convinced her mother would fall to pieces if Desiree moved out and started living her own life? Did it matter? Or was she waiting for that one moment when her mother finally woke up and saw Desiree for who she really was?
Someone tapped on the bedroom door. “Desiree?”
“Just about done.” Desiree didn’t want Talia coming in to have one of her heart-to-heart chats. This was just not a good time.
She reappeared in the hallway, a tingle sliding down her spine when Nicolai gave her an appreciative once-over. “Feel better?”
She reached for the hand he offered, thrilling to the feel of their fingers lacing together. “I do, thanks. I’ll get your clothes laundered as soon as possible.”
“I’d rather you keep them. I like seeing you in my clothes.”
“That will be a new, very un-Dee Dee-like look.” Talia stifled a giggle before opening her and Erik’s bedroom door. “Erik’s in the study at the end of the hall. I’m going to lie down for a bit. I’m so tired these days I find myself nodding off at the worst times.”
“Thanks, Talia, and just to let you know, I’m really happy for you and my brother.”
“We’ll talk more later, pretty Talia,” Nicolai rumbled.
The familiarity in his tone gave Desiree a jolt. She waited for Talia’s door to close before giving in to the urge to turn and stare. “Why do I get the feeling the two of you know each other awfully well?”
He tugged a lock of her hair. “Your brother brought Talia to the bar the first night they met.”
“How did everybody but me know about that place?”
“How come Talia calls you Dee Dee?”
Desiree made a choking noise designed to let him know exactly how she felt about her childish nickname. “My mother calls me that. I think Talia must’ve thought it was a family thing, so she started doing it too.”
Boston Avant-Garde: Impetuous Page 10
