“I, for one, am over the moon that you're coming back home. I missed my Natty.”
“I missed you, too,” Annata said. “I like Hong Kong, but it isn't home.”
“Well of course not, dummy.” Toni took a sip of her beer. “Are there anymore of those pastry thingies?”
“All gone.” Annata crumpled the empty bag in her hand.
“You're gonna have, like, more money than God now, right?” Toni asked, with a smile.
“No.” Annata rolled her eyes. “But we won't be hurting. And Granny's finally going to get those house repairs she's been needing for years.”
“She won't take your money,” Toni said. “We'll have to find a way to trick her.”
“Exactly!” Annata laughed. “That's what I was thinking. We need a plan.” In her pocket, Annata felt her phone vibrate. She tried to ignore it, but couldn't. Where are you? Christophe's text was simple, but she knew there was so much more behind it. He was most likely furious. And horny. She set her phone facedown on her thigh.
“Who's that?” Toni asked, being nosy. Annata considered how to answer.
“What did you think of Christophe, the guy who came to see you in the hospital?”
Toni smiled a bit, then shrugged. “I don't know. I wasn't really in my right mind. But if I had to say something about him, I would say that he was very tall, and very rich-looking.” Toni looked off, toward the city. “He was nice. And I was a mess.”
“You never told me. About the accident,” Annata said.
“Oh.” Toni waved her hand. “Um...I don't remember much. I was in a cab after practice, going up the West-Side Highway. And then the last thing I remember is him holding me...the guy who pulled me out of the wreck. He was a firefighter, I guess.” Toni brightened. “And then your Christophe came to the hospital and cheered me up.”
“He's not 'my Christophe',” Annata said, her brow furrowed. “Who was this firefighter that saved you? We need to send him a gift or something.”
“He didn't want to be thanked. I think he just wanted to be left alone.” Toni scratched at the label on the beer bottle.
“Thank God he was there.” Annata took a drink, not wanting to think what would have happened had Toni not been pulled from the wreckage.
“Yup,” Toni said simply. Annata decided to change the subject immediately.
“Well. I'll be back in the city in a month. Hopefully all will go smoothly and everything will be amazing.”
“We're due for some amazingness in our lives.” Toni nodded.
“Agreed.” They clinked bottles again, for good measure.
Chapter 22
Christophe sat in the dark car across from Annie's hotel. For the last hour, he'd wavered between seething with rage and chuckling in amusement. He had never been stood up in his life. The situation was almost ridiculous. This was what he was reduced to, he thought. Stalking. Hiding in the shadows. He checked his watch. 10:00 p.m. He hadn't heard from her all day. Maybe something had come up, he reasoned. Maybe there was a problem with her sister. Slowly the anger was subsiding, and genuine worry was taking hold. He wondered where she was and what she was doing. He wasn't quite ready to admit to himself that she was avoiding him.
Then Christophe saw her. Exiting a cab at the entrance of the hotel. She wore a simple outfit, not exactly dressed for dinner. Without thinking, he was out of the car in a flash, jogging across the street and following her into the building. He saw her waiting for the elevator as he made his way across the mirror-paneled lobby. She stepped inside the elevator and pressed a button. “Hold the elevator,” he called out. Just as the doors were closing, he slid his arm in between the crack. He let out a breath, and straightened his suit jacket as the doors reopened so he could slip inside.
“Sorry. Excuse me,” he said to the annoyed elderly couple staring at him in one corner. In the other corner, Annie glared at him. “You stood me up.”
“And you're still stalking me. I think we're even.”
“We are definitely not even,” he said. She turned her eyes to the top of the elevator, as the floors ticked by. His let his eyes sweep her. She was wearing a white camisole that buttoned up the front and tan linen pants. She looked effortlessly classy. And if he looked close enough, he could see the outline of her bra through the blouse. The doors opened at the eighth floor and Annie pushed past him and headed down the hallway. He followed her, keeping a short distance.
“Stalking is illegal, you know. And creepy.” She tossed over her shoulder.
“Standing people up is rude,” he said. She whirled around to face him.
“Did it make you angry? That I ignored you?”
“Yes,” he said.
“I apologize. It was rude.” She turned and continued walking toward her room. Christophe scoffed, and continued following her. “What do you want, Christy?” she asked.
“I wanted to have dinner, but I guess I'll take a rain-check.”
“I don't recall offering a rain-check.” She stopped in front of door 8H. He noticed she hesitated before swiping the card. The door beeped and she opened it. “Listen—,” She began but he cut her off, closing the door firmly behind him.
“You have any whiskey?”
“No.” She dropped her bag on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Good thing I brought my own.” Christophe slid his hand inside his jacket and revealed a bottle.
“I guess you're inviting yourself to stay for a drink then?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.
“Don't mind if I do.” He strolled over to the mini-bar and overturned two glasses. She sighed and kicked off her sandals.
“I'm not going to sleep with you,” she said. He chuckled, pouring the whiskey neat.
“Good to know.” He said, turning and holding out a drink for Annie. She took it, and clinked her glass with his. They drank in silence for a moment. “So can I ask what you were doing while you were standing me up?”
“I was with Toni. I told you I needed to see my sister.”
“I told you to bring her to dinner.”
“I thought it would be weird.” She shrugged and took another sip.
“Weird?”
“Since we're not together, it's a little weird to be having family dinners.” She swept her hair off her forehead.
“Hmm,” he mused. “You like the whiskey?”
“It's good. Smoky, but smooth,” Annie said, sniffing the gold liquid.
“It's ten thousand bucks a bottle. I'm on a waiting list to get a single bottle a year.” Christophe said, watching her reaction. Her eyes widened a bit, but she didn't say anything. “Do you think it's worth it?”
“Absolutely not.” She laughed.
“But I really love a good whiskey. It gives me pleasure. So I think it's worth it.”
“Okay.” She narrowed her eyes. “I hope you're not attempting to compare me to a bottle of whiskey.”
“Wow! You're making all kinds of presumptions tonight. First, you think I want to have sex with you, now this.” He rolled his eyes, knocking back the remainder of his drink.
“So you don't want to have sex?” She moved past him into the bathroom and turned on the light. Setting down her drink on the marble vanity top, she began taking off her jewelry. He watched her, leaning against the doorjamb. He loved seeing her like this, taking off her armor and softening. “Look, I'm tired. I'm about to collapse.” She began taking out her hair pins and he rushed forward and covered her hands with his.
“Let me,” he murmured. She hesitated, but he began fishing for pins along her scalp and she dropped her hands.
“Christy—,” She began, but didn't finish her thought. He felt her leaning into him, her luscious ass pressing against his front. When all the pins were out, he still ran his hands though her silky strands. Not being able to resist, he dropped his head to taste the salty skin of her neck. Christophe was rock hard within seconds and he knew she could feel his arousal. His eyes searched for hers in the mirror. He curled his finger
around the strap of her blouse and dragged it down her shoulder.
“I like this,” he said, running his teeth over her naked skin. “I'd like it better on the floor.”
Annie laughed, a husky, whiskey-tinged sound that sent a pang of longing through him. “What a line,” she said.
“It was bad, huh?” He smiled, busying himself with all the little pearly buttons running down the front of her. He unbuttoned them one by one, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.
“Terrible,” she whispered as he moved further up. Her camisole flapped open, revealing her bellybutton.
“I don't have any good thoughts left in my brain. Just bad ones.” He felt his breath catch as the last button came undone. She let the silky shirt drop to the floor and she stood in front of him in her lacy white bra. His hands acted of their own accord and unhooked the bra before he even had a minute to think. He let out the breath he had been holding in a slow rasp as he admired her. Annie laid her head back on his shoulder as he rolled his palms over her nipples. “Annie, if you don't want me to make love to you, I won't. I'll tuck you in and leave.”
“You'll leave?” she asked, her eyes still on his. He cupped the warm weight of her breasts, knowing that if he didn't stop touching her soon, he wouldn't be able to stop.
“If you want me to,” he said, grazing her nipples with his thumbs. He pressed his nose into her neck, breathing deep and closing his eyes. She smelled like sunshine and sweat and coconut. She turned in his arms so that she faced him, entwining her arms around his neck.
“Don't go,” she whispered. He kissed her then, the world falling away and leaving only lust in its wake.
***
Annata didn't even remember how she lost the rest of her clothes, but here she was, naked as a jay-bird, flat on her back in bed. The crinkle of the condom wrapper was the last sound she heard. Christy was on top of her in an instant, so fast she almost giggled from the rush. He rocked his hips, not wasting time, penetrating her deep. She cried out at the intrusion, her body stretching to accommodate him. With each thrust, she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. She clung to him, feeling completely out of control. But she had known this was going to happen. The minute he invaded her elevator. The second he was inside her hotel room. Hell, the instant her plane touched down at LaGuardia. Sex with Christophe was predetermined. It was in the cards. She couldn't escape her fate.
She kissed him, barely holding on. She sucked on his tongue, heady desire holding her in its clutches, so tight it hurt. She wanted to come, but more than anything, she wanted him to explode inside her. She wanted him to drown in his own lust. She rolled her pelvis, her hip bones banging against his. He was so deep, and she locked her legs around him, riding him to oblivion. The primitive sounds of their fucking filled her ears. It only turned her on more and more. He came suddenly, crying out against her mouth. The ragged sound of his passion flipped a switch inside of her. A light went on in her brain. She was in love with Christophe Van der Kind. Of course. Goddammit. And then she came, all of her tension dispelling in waves of relief.
They ended in a sweaty heap at the foot of the bed, breathing hard. “I'm sorry,” he said, out of breath. “I wanted to last longer for you.” She could feel his racing heart against her chest.
“Shut up,” she breathed. “You know it was amazing.” Her whole body tingled. She had been waiting six months for him, she knew now. Her body craved his. He chuckled.
“Was it?” he hedged, nuzzling her neck. “I think I saw my life flash before my eyes.” Now it was her turn to laugh. He pushed his knees into the mattress, sliding out of her. Standing, he disposed of the condom and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. She watched him move around the room, taking him in. He was in better shape, if that was possible. Jesus, how did he find the time to workout? She realized he had a new tattoo on the left side of his rib-cage and she sat up on her elbows to get a better look.
“What is that?”
“What's what?” He took a swig of the whiskey, straight from the bottle.
“You got a new tattoo.”
“No, I didn't.” He shook his head, unconvincingly.
“Oh, please. I know every inch of you. Come here.”
“Every inch of me?” he said, stepping closer. She sat up, until her eyes were level with the new tattoo. She ran her manicured fingertip across the lines, etched in his skin in black.
“What language is that?”
“Portuguese. It's a Brazilian saying.”
“How do you pronounce it?”
“O Bicho Tá Pegando,” he said, the foreign language rolling off his tongue. She repeated it, finding it hard to wrap her mouth around it.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“It's hard to explain.”
“Or you just don't want to explain it?” She cocked an eyebrow. Then she let him off the hook with a shrug. She'd let him have his secret. He stared down at her and swept a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Oh!” she said, remembering something that Toni had given her earlier in the night. She'd been planning to enjoy it alone by herself in her room, but now that Christophe was there, it would be even better. She looked around for her bag, and found it on the floor, where it must have ended up after their sex session. “I have a surprise, courtesy of Toni.” She rooted around for the little baggy. She held it up, triumphantly.
“Pot?” he asked, laughing.
“Yes, actually. Toni says it's the best.” She opened the bag and sniffed the joint.
“Did you roll that? Because I would have an all new respect for you.”
“No. Toni did. I'm out of practice. I have matches somewhere in here.” She put the joint to her lips. Christophe went over to the window and opened it. She hopped up and followed him, happy to feel the breeze on her skin. The city was finally cooling down after the pressing heat of the last day and a half. She cupped her hand around the match as she puffed and lit the joint. She passed it to him. They stood at the window for a moment, companionably silent.
“This is some good shit,” Christophe said, his voice choked and hoarse. Annata couldn't help but laugh. She could already feel an attack of the giggles coming on.
“It is.” She giggled. “I am such a light-weight now. I used to smoke everyday in college.”
“You? Little Miss Perfect? I never would have guessed it.” He sucked in his cheeks and took a deep puff.
“When was the last time you smoked?” she asked.
“Before I left Brazil.” He passed her the joint. “But I think I'm going to need to hit up Toni's man.”
“Me too.” Annata took a deep drag.
“Well, if you're going to be in Hong Kong, you need your own man,” he said, giving her a side look.
“I told you. I'm only in Hong Kong for another month.” She said, feeling the high. Definitely feeling the high.
“And then you're coming back?” He was digging, but she only shrugged, not feeling any need to keep her cards hidden. “Did you accept the position at Mirabelle?”
“What do you know about Mirabelle?” She stomped her foot, and turned to him. “If you had something to do with that, I'll—!” She jabbed him in the ribs.
“I didn't have anything to do with it! Scouts honor.” He held up two fingers.
“You ain't no boy scout,” she said, feeling the south rearing up in her voice.
“True. But I didn't have anything to do with it. I heard it through the grapevine.” He stared off, at the city. “So, you're coming back for good?”
“I don't know yet.” She passed him back the joint and then slapped him on the ass. “Don't get your hopes up.”
“One last puff?” He offered her the remaining sliver of the joint.
“You take it,” she said, taking a running dive onto the bed. She took her phone out of her bag. She made sure the alarm was set for 5 a.m. and put it on the bedside table. Christophe flicked the butt out the window and slammed it shut. He turned and looked at her.
“I love you
, you know that right?”
“I bet you're loving everything right about now,” she said. He laughed and tumbled into bed beside her, resting his head on her chest.
“I am. Everything is beautiful. But only because you're here.” He pushed himself up on his elbows and twisted around to look at her. “I love you.” Warmth blossomed inside her chest, and she couldn't help but smile.
“I'm happy you're here, too,” she said.
***
Christophe woke in the hotel room and knew immediately she was gone. He sat up, and sure enough, her suitcase and all of her things were missing. If he hadn't woken in the hotel, he would have wondered if the night before was all a dream. But he knew it was real. He'd had Annie the night before, and in the morning, he didn't. He felt even emptier than before, if that was possible. He looked around the room, a smile fighting its way to the surface. Annie had smoked pot after she halfway fucked him to death. He laughed and shook his head. The woman was constantly surprising him.
In the elevator, he jammed his hands into his pockets, and laughed. Christophe pulled Annie's pearl earrings from his pocket. After all that, he'd forgotten to give them back to her. He shook his head. Well, now she would have to come back, he reasoned. Of course, she didn't seem to miss them that much. He jammed them back in his pockets.
By six-o'clock that night, his spirits had completely dropped off the deep end. He sat at his desk, drinking his way through his yearly bottle of whiskey. He missed her, and the ache had settled in his bones. Christophe checked her flight status online. She was still in the air. He wondered if she was sleeping. Or sitting up and thinking about him. He chuckled to himself. She probably hadn't thought twice about him since she boarded. He ran his finger along his ribs, where she had spotted the new tattoo. O Bicho Tá Pegando. He didn't want to tell her what it meant when she asked about it, because to him, it meant that he was going to marry her. He was going to finish what he started.
A knock on the door startled him. “Come in.” He called out. The Old Man stepped in, looking quite the eccentric in a navy suit with a purple polka-dotted tie. “Since when do you knock?”
Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 18
