by Lara Adrian
He leans over to kiss me. “Baby, more is one thing you never need to ask for with me.”
We’re both seated on the bed naked—or partially naked in my case. I’m wearing the string of pearls again, although in a more traditional manner now. Looped twice around my neck, the long strand falls over my breasts and down my belly, pooling in the V of my crossed legs. Each slide of the silky gems over my nipples or against my nude sex is a decadent reminder of the hours of pleasure I’ve shared with Nick tonight.
We’ve hardly left the bedroom since he arrived hours ago. When our stomachs started complaining, we finally showered and called for food delivery, neither of us interested in getting dressed to go out when we could extend our naked reunion into a likely all-nighter.
As I watch him stretch to grab one of the food containers off the tray, my body stirs all over again in lustful appreciation for this gorgeous, intriguing, endlessly seductive man who feeds every hunger I have.
When Nick pivots back toward me to spoon the last of the drunken noodles onto my plate, his gaze catches mine. He pauses, tilting his head. “What?”
“I just remembered we were supposed to celebrate your London deal when you got home.”
“Isn’t that what we just did?” He empties the container, then sets it back on the tray, licking his fingers. “I think this should be the new standard in celebrations. You, me, hours of uninterrupted sex. A week’s worth of takeout for the lady and her alarmingly massive appetite afterward.”
“Oh!” I gape in venomless outrage, setting my plate down so I can lunge for him. “My massive appetite? You ate just as much as me, you bastard.”
Chuckling, he takes me down with him, my body sprawled across the front of him on the mattress. I hardly even care that we’ve upset the tray at the end of bed. I’ll worry about a little spilled rice later. Right now, the only thing that matters to me is the firm warmth of Nick’s body beneath mine, his mouth hot and consuming as we fall into a slow, sensual kiss.
His cock presses thick and steely against my abdomen. I’m already wildly turned on and aching for him, and the erotic feel of the string of pearls crushed between us makes my desire ratchet even higher.
With some effort, I draw back from his kiss. “Just for that smartass remark, I shouldn’t tell you that I have a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. I was saving it for when you got back, but now I’m not sure you deserve it.”
He smirks at me. “That’s not what you would’ve said earlier tonight. How many times do I have to make you come?”
I shrug, pretending to consider. “At least once more. Twice, if you really want to impress me.”
He laughs, his eyes dark with erotic promise. “I always strive to impress, Ms. Ross.”
As if to demonstrate, his hands drift from my ass to the crevice of my body. He strokes my cleft, plunging two fingers inside my sex without warning. I arch into his intimate touch, a sigh hissing through my parted lips. “Nick. Mmm . . .”
He withdraws much too soon for my liking, giving me a light spank. “Let’s go get that champagne I’m going to earn.”
We head out of the bedroom together, me in my pearls and nothing else, and Nick looking godlike as he strides into the living room where my easel is set up atop a blanket of paint-speckled sheets. My newly finished painting is still on the stand, but covered with a cloth drape.
I pause at the threshold of the kitchen as he approaches the piece.
“What are you working on?”
“Oh. Um, nothing really. Just playing around, trying something different.”
He turns a curious look on me. “May I?”
“No.” I shake my head, worried he won’t like it. I’m terrified he’ll think this new piece is just as awful as my others—or worse, that it will negate even the small amount of talent he claims to see in me. “I’m not ready to show it to anyone, Nick.”
Least of all him since he was the reason I painted it in the first place.
“You don’t trust me?”
I drift over to where he stands, subtly inserting myself between him and my easel. “I’m not ready.”
I don’t think he can possibly understand how many ways that statement is true. I’m not ready to show him my new work. I’m not ready for his criticism or his praise. And I’m not ready for the way I feel toward him . . . the way he makes me want so many things I can’t possibly have.
Not with him, not with anyone.
“If we don’t have trust, Avery, we don’t have anything. Haven’t we covered that?”
He reaches for me, taking hold of the pearls that dangle between my breasts. He winds them around his fist, the tension drawing me inexorably toward him. I can no more fight his pull now than I could any other time we’ve been together. I take a step, then another. Until his pearl-wrapped fist is the only thing between us.
His eyes search mine. I can see the demand in those deep blue depths, the challenge. This is no longer about my painting. We both know it. And I can see from the rigid determination in Nick’s handsome, hard face that he will not be denied. Not this time.
“I want to see every part of you, Avery. That’s the only way this is going to work between us. No fear. No hiding. No barriers, remember?”
“Nick, I . . .” I shake my head miserably. My throat is dry, clogged with all of the words I cannot say. Things he should know about me and my past—things that are far more shameful than any of the half-truths I’ve fed him about my life since I’ve come to New York. “Please, don’t,” I murmur thickly. “I just . . . I can’t.”
I watch something dim, then darken, in his piercing gaze. The mouth that has kissed me so tenderly, worshipped me so pleasurably today and every other time we’ve been together now hardens in a stern line.
“Nick, I know you don’t understand why—”
“Then tell me.” Clipped words. A harsh command that hits me like a slap. “Make me understand what you’re afraid of. Is it me? Have I hurt you, Avery? Have I frightened you?”
“No. Never.” It kills me that he would think that. It breaks my heart to see him trying to make sense of my withdrawal. “You’ve never done anything wrong, Nick.”
“Then why are you pulling back from me?” His voice sharpens. “What are you hiding from? Who are you hiding from? Damn it, Avery, what won’t you say?”
I shake my head. My voice has left me entirely now.
He doesn’t say anything either. His expression unreadable, shuttered to me, he lets go of the pearls and lets the strand drop. It sways against my bare torso, the heat from his hand swiftly fleeing the gems.
He steps back, and his distance creates an even bigger chill in me. I shiver from the coldness I feel opening up between us, and from the impenetrable ice of his gaze.
As we stand there, locked in our miserable impasse, the apartment intercom buzzes with a call from the lobby. The sound punctuates the tension between us, making our unbearable distance widen with each passing second. For a long moment, neither one of us moves.
Nick is the first to break the awful silence. “Go find out what Manny wants.”
He strides away, back into the bedroom, leaving me alone and naked, wracked with an uncontrollable shudder. With emotion dammed up in my throat, I pad over to the intercom and answer the doorman’s call.
“Yes, Manny?” My voice is shockingly steady. Then again, I was trained a long time ago how to act as if my world isn’t crumbling all around me.
“Miss Avery, one of your friends is down here. She says she needs to talk to you.”
The announcement is so unexpected, it takes me a second to answer. “Who is it?”
“Tasha Lopez, ma’am.”
Confusion burns through my haze of despair. It’s Friday night, just past nine o’clock. Tasha should be at Vendange. “She’s here? In the building?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Manny lowers his voice discreetly. “If you don’t mind me saying, she seems very upset. Shall I put her on the phone?”
As much as my heart aches for what I’ve likely lost tonight with Nick, my concern for Tasha has me snapping to attention. “No. Don’t put her on the phone. Tell her I’ll be right down.”
When I pivot to hurry to the bedroom for some clothing, Nick is standing behind me, dressed in his dark suit pants and buttoning his white shirt. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Tasha’s downstairs. Manny says she’s upset.”
I duck past him to get dressed, my heart caught in my throat for the fact that Nick doesn’t even try to stop me, and my stomach twisting with worry for my friend.
Chapter 36
I don’t expect Nick to follow me, but he steps into the elevator with me a few moments later, each of us taking up opposite corners of the car as it descends silently to the ground floor.
Tasha is waiting in the empty lobby, seated on one of the white leather and chrome chairs near the main entrance. Dressed in her black pants, deep-V shirt, and heels, she looks like any other chic Manhattanite who might step into this building on a Friday night. But as she spots me approaching and vaults from the chair, I see the stress in her face immediately.
Her mouth is drawn, deep lines bracketing her lips. Her normally sparkling brown eyes are puffy and bloodshot, as if she’s been crying recently.
As soon as I realize her distress, I break into a panicked jog to reach her. “Tasha? Honey, what’s wrong?”
She throws her arms around me, just as a jagged sob rips from her throat. “I didn’t know what to do, Avery! I didn’t know where else to go.”
“It’s okay,” I soothe, but I feel her trembling against me. “You’re all right. You’re safe. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Joel.” She chokes his name like a curse and my blood runs a little cold. “He tried to—” She lifts her head, and I am stricken by the true fear I see in my friend’s face. “He said if I wanted to keep my job, I’d have to—”
She doesn’t finish, her words cut off by fresh tears.
“That son of a bitch.” Fury erupts from somewhere deep inside me, as bitter as acid. I am stricken by the thought of anyone hurting my friend, especially someone like Joel. I pull her out of my embrace, holding her at arm’s length so I can clearly see her face. “Tasha, did he . . . did he touch you?”
She shakes her head. “No. I ran out of there before he had the chance. I just grabbed my purse and I ran. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Who’s Joel?”
Nick’s deep voice is a dark demand beside me. When I swivel my head to look at him, I am met with a stormy blue gaze that is a mere shade away from violent. He’s heard everything Tasha said, and his reaction seems as visceral as mine.
“Joel’s the manager at Vendange, a restaurant over on Madison.”
He nods tightly, disapprovingly, but he remains silent as Tasha launches into the details of what occurred.
“I was straightening out an order that Kimmie fucked up, and Joel comes over to me, telling me I’ve got customers waiting to cash out. I lost it. I told him they wouldn’t be waiting if it wasn’t for his useless girlfriend making extra work for me. I guess I finally had enough of his overbearing bullshit, you know? I didn’t think anything would come of it, but he was pissed. When I went to the storage room a little while later, he followed me inside. He locked the door.” She swallows hard, then blows out a sharp sigh. “He told me if I wanted to keep my job, I would have to make it up to him somehow, and that I could start right then and there.”
“Jesus Christ,” Nick mutters.
My own outrage is on full boil too. I never had much regard for Joel and his oily tactics, but what he’s done to Tasha tonight is beyond disgusting. “What about Tony? Does he know this happened?”
“No!” Her eyes go wide with alarm. “Are you kidding? I didn’t dare tell him. You know my husband. He’ll want to kill Joel for even thinking of touching me.”
She’s right about that, I have no doubt. Tony’s devotion to his wife is immutable. If he saw her like this, tearful and trembling, he’d put Joel in either the hospital or a body bag.
Based on the undercurrent of menace I feel radiating off Nick, I have to wonder if he’s struggling with the same impulse.
Tasha sniffles and wipes her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry to put this on you, Ave. It’s not your problem. I just didn’t know where else to go.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “You’re my best friend. Of course this is my problem too.”
She shakes her head. “What am I going to do? I can’t go back there now. I won’t. I’d rather flip burgers at a damn fast-food chain than go back and grovel for my job with Joel.”
I’m not about to let either of those things happen to her. “You’re absolutely not going back to work for Joel,” I tell her sternly. “We’ll figure this out, honey. But right now, I need to get you home. And you need to tell Tony what happened.”
She nods weakly. “Okay.”
“Come on. My purse is upstairs. Let me grab it and we can go catch the subway.”
We turn to head for the elevators. Nick stands in my way. “I’ll drive you where you need to go.”
Considering we left the apartment barely speaking to each other, I’m sure taking Tasha and me to Queens is the last thing he feels like doing. I’m not too enthused by the idea either. It hurts just to look at him now and feel the distance growing between us. I really don’t want to prolong my own torture by sitting beside him in his car, knowing he’s only helping out of obligation.
“We’ll be fine, Nick. You don’t have to—”
“I’ll drive,” he repeats, his tone as firm as his stare. “Get your things, Avery. I’ll wait for you down here.”
~ ~ ~
Nick is on his cell phone when we return to the lobby a few minutes later. While upstairs, Tasha fixed her mascara and I hastily threw my hair into a ponytail before grabbing my purse and heading back down to meet him.
We step off the elevator, and, for one brief second, I am transported to the first night I saw him in this same lobby. His stare still seems to look right through me. He still unsettles me, makes me achingly aware of myself as a woman and of him as a man.
I want to rush over to him now. I want to feel his arms wrap around me and hear him tell me in that sensual, deep voice of his that everything is okay between us. I need to know that, even though I don’t deserve those reassurances. All Nick has asked for from me is honesty, trust. Today he understands, perhaps for the first time, that I am incapable of giving him either one.
“I didn’t ask if the deal was going to be easy,” he says to the person on the end of the line, glancing up as Tasha and I approach. “Just do what you have to and make it happen, Beck.”
He tone is curt, final. I can’t help feeling sorry for whomever he’s speaking to, since I’m all but certain Nick’s impatience is spurred by his irritation with me. He slides his phone into his pants pocket.
He glances at Tasha in brief concern, then his gaze slides to me, unblinking. For the first time since we met, I don’t feel heat when Nick is looking at me. I feel chill remoteness. I feel anger, although he’s too polished a negotiator to truly let his emotions show. But I’ve come to know him too well, too intimately, for him to hide it from me.
“All set?” he asks, his tone flat, all business.
We take the elevator down to the garage where his BMW is parked, then proceed to make the drive to Queens in a strained silence.
At Tasha’s house, we’re met with confusion and concern and the predicted outrage from her husband upon hearing the reason for his wife’s early return from work. Nick and I hang back to let Tasha explain the situation to her family—her mother-in-law, who comes out with a basket of clean laundry under her arm, and Tony, who’s working on construction invoices at the kitchen table when we arrive.
Although Tasha held it together on the ride to Queens, now that she’s safe at home, her voice wavers as she relays what happened at Vendange.
>
“That motherfucker,” Tony grates out furiously. “That fucking son of a bitch!”
“It’s okay,” Tasha reassures him through her tears. “He didn’t touch me. I didn’t give him the chance. I just got out of there as fast as I could.”
He’s obviously still fuming with violent rage, but he tenderly gathers his wife into his arms and holds her close. I don’t doubt that the only thing keeping the big man from getting into his truck and racing back to the city to kick Joel’s ass is his more immediate worry for Tasha.
“Good girl. You did the right thing, babe. You forget about that asshole, all right? You’re done there and it’s over. You’re safe now.” He kisses the top of her head as Tasha buries her face in his broad chest and clings to him. “As for that cocksucker back at Vendange, he better hope I never see his face anywhere or I’m gonna fucking break it.”
Tasha looks up at him, smiling through her tears. “I love you too, babe.”
He lowers his head and kisses her, as sweet a kiss as I’ve ever seen them share. I have to will myself not to look at Nick as I glance away from Tasha and Tony to give them their moment. I know if I meet Nick’s eyes now, my misery is going to be written plainly in my face.
I miss him as if we’re not even in the same room now. I miss him as if the space that’s opened up between us earlier tonight is becoming impossible to cross.
In the awkward quietness that’s settled over us all, Tony’s mother clears her throat. “Why don’t I make everyone some tea?”
Without waiting for our answers, she shuffles over to the stove and busies herself with putting on a pot of water.
Nick holds his hand out to Tony. “I’m Nick, by the way.”
“Oh, sure. Right. Good to meet ya.” Tony nods vigorously as the two men shake hands. “I figured you were Avery’s new boyfriend when I saw that sweet M6 you drove up in.”
