“Well the door was closed, so I figured I would be respectful,” his father said. “I see you're breaking out the whiskey on a Wednesday.”
“It's my bottle of Macallan. You want a glass?” Christophe stood and fetched another glass from the mini wet-bar in the corner.
“Macallan, eh? Don't mind if I do.” The Old Man took a seat on the leather couch. Christophe handed him the drink. “So how's everything, my boy? Life treating you good?” Christophe shrugged, not sure he would be able to lie. His father took a sip and smiled. “How's our Annie?”
Christophe choked. “Annie?”
“I know you saw her when she was in town.”
“How do you know?” Christophe asked, wondering if his father was keeping an eye out on him, or on Annie.
“John Franks saw you get into a heated argument with a 'lovely tall black woman' the day before last. He said that you two left Rory's in a huff, and he saw you catch a cab together. Unless you've got another lovely tall black woman that I don't know about?”
“John Franks is a drunk. And half-blind.”
“True on both counts. But did you or did you not see Annie when she was in town?” The Old Man was frustratingly calm, staring at him, expecting an answer.
“I saw her. She asked around, and found me at the bar. We argued, then we shared a cab. She went her way and I went mine.”
“So she's still angry.” Something passed behind his father's eyes.
“Betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow. I'd say yes, she's still angry.” Christophe felt his own anger welling up. In a way, his whole predicament was his father's doing. Annie would be at his side right then, if it hadn't been for William Van der Kind.
“Betrayal? That's a strong word. You're my blood. It's the natural order. She understands that.” The Old Man nodded, as confident as always. Christophe took a deep drink before replying.
“Does she?” Christophe asked.
“What did you two argue about?”
“I can't remember.” Christophe realized his glass was empty and he refilled it. “I'm sure it was my fault.”
“Why ruffle her feathers? Especially when she reached out to you?”
“I don't know,” Christophe said tossing an ice cube into his drink.
“Did it ever occur to you that I might have liked to speak with her?”
“Then why didn't you? Have you tried contacting her since January, or are you waiting for her to come to you?”
The Old Man dropped his head and sighed. Christophe couldn't stop himself from pushing. “She's gone. And it's your fault she's gone. Do you feel bad about that?” He asked his father.
“Yes, I do. She was like a daughter to me. She still is.”
“The perfect offspring you wish you'd always had, right?”
“On dark days, I used to think that, I'll admit it.” The Old Man sat back. “Annie is very special to me, but I made you CEO.”
“Cheers.” Christophe held up the glass, then downed it.
Chapter 23
3 Months Later
Annata woke to the pounding on the front door echoing through the townhouse. She tossed a robe on over her nightgown and cinched the belt as she made her way down the winding stairs to the foyer. Toni, hobbling out to the landing on one crutch, leaned over the railing. They'd been in the house for two weeks now, but Annata didn't know when she would ever get used to having so much space to herself. And it was slightly disconcerting, especially with someone banging on the door in the middle of the night.
“Who the devil is that?” Toni called down.
“I don't know, an axe-murderer?” Annata said. She was kidding, but a shiver of real fear ran down her spine. She glanced out the window beside the big mahogany front door and sighed. Motherfucker.
“Well?” Toni said, trying to see who was at the door. Annata shrugged and unbolted the lock. She left the latch on as she opened the door a crack. Christophe smiled back at her, his face lit up by the porch light.
“Annie,” he said. He stepped closer, against the door. He realized that the latch wouldn't let the door open fully. “Let me in.” He said, his lips close to her face. The sweet scent of liquor lingered in the cold air between them. He was drunk. He banged the door again and she jumped. “Let me in.”
“You're gonna wake everybody on the goddamn block!” she hissed, sticking her finger out through the slit in the door and poking him in the chest. He caught her wrist and put it to his lips.
“I don't care.” He pressed his teeth to her skin and bit down lightly. She felt a dip in her stomach at his wolflike look. He was hunting her. She wondered how he found out where she lived. Annoyed, she guessed it hadn't been hard for him. If Christophe Van der Kind wanted something, he got it. She yanked her hand back out of the cold.
“Well I do. I don't want to be known as the loud black woman on 97th street.”
“It's a great place. Not as big as the one I would have bought you.”
“I can buy everything I need myself.”
“I can see that,” he said, his eyes roaming from her eyes down to her purple-painted toenails.
“You need to get your ass off my stoop before I call the police,” she said. He tossed his head back and laughed.
“Oh, Annie. I missed you so much.” He stepped closer to the door. “Let me in.”
Annata pressed her forehead against the door. She didn't want to send him out into the night drunk. What if he got mugged, or wandered into the street and was hit by a car? All the possibilities ran through her mind. She supposed she could let him in for a cup of coffee, while she called him a car. What was the harm in that? Besides, deep down, she might miss him too, just a little bit.
“Who is it?” Toni asked again.
“Christophe,” she said. Christophe banged against the door again.
“Who are you talking to?” he said, his voice suddenly angry. “Do you have a man in there?” Annata rolled her eyes heavenward. Maybe she didn't miss him at all. “Who is it?” he said louder.
“For Christ's sake.” She sighed.
“He's gonna wake the whole damn neighborhood!” Toni said. Annata turned back to Christophe.
“I'll let you in, but only for a few minutes while I call you a car. Okay?” she said. A smile spread across his face and he nodded. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. With a sigh, she closed the door and unlatched the lock. When she reopened the door, he pushed inside and threw his arms around her, lifting her off of her feet. The scent of the brisk autumn air surrounded her, along with the smell of him. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. His aftershave. How she missed the scent. He moaned in her ear. The sound caused a pang of lust within her that cut her to the quick.
Toni cleared her throat at the top of the stairs. Christophe broke the embrace and Annata was back on solid ground again. “Antoinette! Glad to see you up and about.” Christophe said, too loud and too cheery. Obviously drunk.
“Mmm-hmm.” Toni murmured and her eyes shifted back to Annata. “Good to see you, too.”
“Go back to bed, Toni. I'm going to call Christophe a car. I'll be up in a bit.” Annata said. Her heart was fluttering in her chest. She realized she felt a thrill at being alone with him, but she pushed her feelings aside. Toni nodded, gave her a look, then made her way back into her room. As soon as Toni's door closed, Christophe got her by the waist and pressed her against the wall.
“Annie,” he breathed, his forehead to hers. Mentally, she kicked herself for letting him in. It would be too easy to let herself get caught up. She placed her palms against his chest. She realized he was wearing only a dress shirt and a loosened tie. She wondered where his suit jacket was. His shirt felt cold against her hand, but the warmth of his chest seeped through. She could feel his heart racing.
“Are you cold?” she asked. He shook his head. He ran his hands down her hips and cupped her ass. He pressed his hips into hers. She could feel his hardness against her. Her stomach dipped. Then anger we
lled up. How dare he keep having this control over her? She kept trying to let him go and he wouldn't let her.
“I found you,” he said, grinned like a fiend. “I found you.”
“Christophe,” she said, trying to push him away. “I'll make you a cup of coffee.” She struggled against him, and he growled, his fingers digging into her ass.
“I don't want coffee,” he said. “You know what I want.” Annata set her jaw. She wasn't going to let him push her around. She gave him a hard shove and he reeled back.
“Get over it, Christy,” she said. Then she pushed past him on her way to the kitchen. “It's not gonna happen.” She tossed back. He took a dangerous breath and followed her. “You're gonna drink this goddamn coffee, and you're going to go home.” She flicked on the light in the kitchen and opened the cabinet. She heard him chuckling behind her. She glanced back and he was leaning against the center island, his head in his hand. She found the tin and shoveled some coffee into the coffeemaker. “What are you laughing about?” she asked.
“I missed you.” He rubbed his eyes in the bright light. She realized how tired he looked. A five-o'clock shadow darkened his cheeks. His shirt and pants were wrinkled.
“You said that already.” She turned on the coffeemaker.
“I mean it,” he said, blinking at her. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked around the kitchen.“This is great,” he said, sweeping his hand across the expensive marble countertop. “The kitchen, I mean. Did you do it yourself?”
“I hired an interior designer. But I knew what I wanted. The countertops are all marble and butcher block. The floor is original. It's oak, inlaid with cherry.” The kitchen was her favorite room in the townhouse. She loved the cheery aqua-painted cabinetry, the original farmhouse sink, and the bright light that came in through the restored bay window. It just felt like home, now more than ever.
“And Toni lives here?” he said. He crossed his arms on the counter and dropped his head to rest on them.
“For now. I told her she can stay as long as she wants, but I think she's antsy to be on her own again.” Annata shrugged. She hadn't wanted to be all alone in the big house, and Tony was still recovering from her accident. It had been a natural fit. But two adult sisters living under the same roof didn't always mesh. “It's rough on her. She feels like she's lost her independence. Which is ridiculous. I have all this room, there's no reason for her to pay rent in some shithole. And the doctors say she should be as good as new in a few months.” Annata snapped her mouth shut when she realized she was babbling. Christophe was staring at her with those deep blue eyes. He looked so tired. A lock of hair fell across his forehead. She stepped closer to him and ran a hand through his hair. He moaned and closed his eyes. She continued stroking his scalp, unable to stop.
“How are you, Christy?” she said softly. “You look terrible.”
“I feel terrible.”
“Promise me you'll start taking care of yourself.” She let her hand wander to his shoulders and she began kneading his muscles there. “I don't like seeing you like this.”
He was silent beneath her hands, and for a moment she was afraid that he had fallen asleep.
“I don't want to take care of myself,” he mumbled finally. “I want to drink until I forget. But I can't forget. The way you smell. The way you feel. Your laugh. The way you say 'fuck' when you get angry. I wake up with a hard-on and an empty bed and I can't take it.” She felt him shudder, and then he rolled his shoulders under her hands. “Just let me sleep here in your kitchen. I'll sleep better than I will at home,” he said. The coffeemaker gurgled and sputtered, signaling the pot was finished brewing. She realized she was holding her breath. She moved away from him, and filled a large mug with coffee. She set it beside his elbow on the counter. He pushed himself up, slowly. His eyes didn't meet hers.
She turned away, clearing her throat. She opened a drawer and pulled out a card for the car service. “Drink that, I'm going to call the car,” she said, her back to him. She dialed the number on her phone, and turned back to face him. He took a sip of the hot coffee, watching her again.
“Hi, yes. I need a car at 97th and Riverside. It's going to NoHo—Great Jones and and Lafayette.” The man on the other end of the line said the car would be there in about 15 minutes. Christy stepped around the center island and moved toward her. She hung up the phone. “It'll be here in 15 minutes or so.” She said, repeating the information to Christy. His blue eyes were clearer looking, she realized. The bleariness and tiredness were gone from them.
“Come here,” he said. She set her phone on the counter. He dropped his hands on either side of her, pinning her against the island.
“You better drink every last drop of that coffee, Van der Kind,” she said. He nodded, his eyes dark. She smoothed her hands down his shirt, stopping short of his belt.
“Do you miss me?” he said. He seemed out of breath. She reminded herself that he had barged inside her home in the middle of the night, drunk as a skunk. She reminded herself that she had broken up with him and was moving on her with life. But she did miss him. She had been happy to see him standing on her porch in the middle of the night. But it was too hard for her to admit it. If she admitted it, then she was admitting to herself that she was wrong about ending it.
“No,” she said. He dropped his head, and sighed. He looked so tired and drained that she backtracked. “How can I miss someone who's standing right in front of me?” she said. He smiled a bit, the blow softened.
“What about when I'm not standing in front of you?” he asked. He ran a finger over the belt of her robe. She felt her breath catch in her throat. She shrugged, her mind blank.
“Ask me tomorrow,” she murmured. He hooked his finger around the belt and tugged lightly. Her robe drifted open, revealing her thin nightgown. She was suddenly very aware that she wasn't wearing anything underneath the nightgown. He sucked in a breath.
“Annie.” His eyes drank in the sight of her. She felt a tingle between her thighs and when she shifted, she felt a slick of moisture there, too. Her breasts tightened and her nipples hardened under his gaze. He held out a hand, his fingers twitching. He wanted to touch her. For several heart-stopping moments, she waited for him to touch her. But he didn't. He dropped his hand and pushed away.
“I should wait outside for the car,” he said, not really speaking to her. It seemed like he was talking to himself. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a big gulp. She watched his exposed throat working. She didn't move to close her robe. She couldn't pull her eyes away from him.
“No, it's too cold out” she said.
“The coffee will keep me warm,” he said, still not looking at her. She reached out and touched his shoulder. He looked so far away, she felt like she needed to touch him. To bring him closer, somehow. He stilled under her hand.
“Annie, if you don't want me to hike you up on that counter right now and make love to you, tell me to get out. Tell me to leave right now.”
***
Christophe felt his heart drop to the floor when he saw Annie's nightgown. Suddenly, he was stone-cold sober. He could see her nipples through the thin fabric, and the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs. An alarm went off in his brain. He had to get away from her, or he might do something he would regret. Something she would never forgive him for. He wanted to slam into her and find some of the release that had been eluding him for months now. Masturbating gave him no relief. He'd tried sleeping with another woman, and that hadn't worked. He asked Annie to tell him to go. But she didn't. She just stared at him.
“Goddamnit Annie,” he said, feeling like his head was going to explode. “Tell me to go.” His voice was failing. “Tell me to go.”
But she said nothing. Lust clouded his judgement. He dropped his hands to her waist and, true to his word, hiked her up on the countertop, pushing himself between her legs. He shoved her nightgown up her thighs, until it bunched at her waist. She gasped when her bare ass hit the cold marble. “Christy
!” she whispered. He closed his mouth over hers greedily. He'd waited for this so long, and dreamt every night of holding her in his arms again. He fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue against hers. A moan vibrated up her throat. She raked her hands through his hair, nipping at his lip in between kisses. Fuck. He was so hard he thought he was going to die if he didn't get inside her right then.
Finally he was free from his pants and he shoved her legs open wide. He guided himself to her opening. He didn't even think to get the condom from his wallet. His head breached her, and she stilled. She broke the kiss and glanced down between them. He dropped his eyes as well, and they both watched as he slid deep inside her. They moaned in unison. Bliss enveloped him. For a split second, he wondered if he was dreaming. Then she squeezed him deep inside and he didn't care whether it was reality or not.
Annie tightened her grip on his hair, pulling his head back. She trailed red-hot kisses down his exposed throat. The pleasure sent sparks of electricity through his body, and he bucked against her. She let out a strangled cry against his throat. The sound made something snap inside of him. He clapped a hand over her mouth, and then plunged inside her again and again, harder and harder. His hand muffled her cries as she clung to him.
“Will you miss me?” he whispered into her ear. “When you're alone in your bed tonight, will you miss me?” He thrust inside her, achingly slow this time. He dropped his hand and covered her mouth with his. He ran his tongue across hers, just as slowly. “Will you miss me when I'm gone?” he repeated when he broke the kiss. Her eyes were closed, her swollen lips slightly parted. She nodded, as if in a trance. He cupped her left breast in his hand and ran his thumb over her hard nipple. She purred from deep in her throat.
He eased her back against the cold countertop. He dropped his head and flicked his tongue against her nipple through the fabric. She arched her back, her brow furrowed as if she was in pain. But he knew better. He knew that she loved it. He drew her nipple deep into his mouth, sucking and and licking at her. He covered her mouth again with his free hand and lightly bit her nipple. She cried out, into his hand. Then he thrust deeply and hard again. She cried out again. He wasn't going to let her get off easy. He wanted her to remember him. Late at night, alone in bed, she would think about how he had fucked her in her kitchen. Every morning, when she did something as mundane as making coffee, she would remember this moment. The thought made him jerk inside of her.
Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 19
