by I. A. Dice
“So impatient,” she murmured, breathless.
“You have no idea how sexy you are when you touch yourself, but you’re not coming unless I make you come.”
I flipped her onto her back, and my tongue replaced her fingers. Nadia weaved her hand through my hair, her orgasm close judging by how she writhed, searching for the best angle. She pushed her hips forward to meet every stroke of my tongue, silently asking for release.
Two minutes were enough, and the moment her breathing quickened, I rose to my knees, and buried myself deep inside her to feel her walls tighten around my bare length.
“There’s nothing I like more than watching you come,” I said, biting her lower lip.
She opened her eyes, blissful and satisfied. I reached for a condom, and pushed Nadia further up the bed, pressing my hand to the side of her head. She was content, peaceful, making it the best opportunity to break the link her mind created between pain and someone touching her throat. I grazed my thumb across her jaw, turning her face to the side, when I drove back into her, kissing her neck.
“Say you trust me,” I urged.
Nadia nodded; her eyes glued to mine. Slowly, I moved my hand to her throat, closing her parted lips with an intense kiss to keep her calm, and feeling safe. I spread my fingers wide, pressing gently while our lips battled for dominance, the pace of my thrusts slow, almost cautious.
She didn’t skip a beat, wrapping her arms around my neck to keep me close. I cheered inside and pressed my forehead to hers, moving my hand lower to cup her breast. I thrusted deeper, enjoying the way she spasmed every time I hit the right spot.
Twenty minutes later, she climaxed again, in sync with me.
“Mind. Blown. Away,” she breathed, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, her legs still around me and shaking.
I pecked her nose. “Thomas Calix at your service.”
She chuckled, letting me get up when I tapped her bum. I locked myself in the en-suite for a moment to clean up and tame the mess that was now my hair.
“Don’t get mad,” she said when I returned, pleased to see that she was still too weak to throw the t-shirt on. “I keep getting side-tracked, and I’ve been trying to tell you something for two days now.”
“You think it’s wise to start a sentence with don’t get mad three minutes after we had sex?”
She giggled, smacking me with a pillow. “I’m getting my very first art exhibition. Turns out Chase knows an owner of a small gallery in the city centre. They want to put my art up for four days starting on Wednesday, January the third.”
“That’s great,” I kissed her forehead. “You deserve it. You’re extremely talented. Why haven’t you said anything sooner?”
“I wanted to tell you straight away, but you asked me to move in with you, and it slipped my mind. Chase was only checking if I’d like to do it at first, but I sent him pictures of my paintings to forward to the art gallery owner. We didn’t expect an answer until after Christmas. I guess they really liked my work, because Chase called this morning to say the exhibition is booked.”
I drew her closer and closed her mouth with a kiss, teasing her bottom lip with my tongue, ready to take her again.
“I’m flying out to Madrid the day before, but I’ll be back on Wednesday afternoon in time for the vernissage.”
Nadia smiled and leaned over the bed to put the t-shirt back on. She left the panties on the floor and cuddled into my side, ready for bed.
We had a busy day ahead of us with shopping and moving Nadia’s stuff to my house… our house. I covered her with the duvet and kissed her forehead, watching as she fell asleep.
CHAPTER 24
NADIA
Happy place
“What do you think about this one?” I asked Thomas, sitting cross-legged on the floor in my apartment on New Year’s Eve.
We spent the last week packing my stuff and moving them over to Thomas’s house. All that was left in the apartment were my paintings and most of the bulky furniture. It made sense to leave it there, and we would rent the place as furnished. Thomas already found some new tenants, too. A young couple was due to move in the second week of January.
For now, though, we used the apartment to sort through my art in the evenings. Thomas opened a bottle of wine, glancing at the nth painting. He tried not to let it show, but I could tell that the glimpses of my past were hard on him. During the past three days, he saw a total of one hundred and sixty-two sketches and paintings, all of which were moments of my relationship with Adrian. They were the worst moments.
“No,” he said. “There’s one similar already on the Exhibition pile.”
I sighed. “How many more do I need to pick?”
“About twenty, I’d say.”
I got up from the floor, readjusting my blouse. “It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I’ve had enough of this.” I rested my fists on the couch, leaning over to Thomas. “How about I show you something that might make you feel a bit better?”
“You’ll get naked?”
“Maybe later,” I smiled. “Do you remember the sketchpad you asked to see the morning after you and Nick found out I was back?”
He nodded, watching as I rummaged through my bag to pull out the A4 sketchpad. I sat down, taking a glass of wine with me.
“Those are my happy memories. They got me through the four months in New York, and they still help me whenever I struggle.”
I gave him the sketchpad, tucking my feet under my bum. Thomas flicked open the cover, his face unreadable while he stared at the sketch of his face: hair combed back, smirk on his lips, chiselled jawline.
He turned the page over to a drawing of us at the back of the cab, kissing for the first time. All pages were filled with similar images.
I drew the moment when he held me in a tight embrace after the housewarming party. I drew the kiss he stole from me in the car outside of the C&G Records, and the way he pressed my back against his chest when he told me to recall his lips on my skin and the tone of his voice.
All of it was captured there: our fingers interlocked; his lips on my forehead; my smile when he arrived early from Madrid; even the support in his eyes when he told me I was a survivor.
Thomas pointed to a sketch of me straddling him the night we admitted to wanting more than just sex.
“That’s when I realised that I was in love with you.” He turned to look at me. “Every one of those is of us. Me and you. Not the puppet you use in all the other paintings.”
“When I’m with you, I am me.”
Every day with him brought me closer to normality. Breathing got easier; fear subsided. Since we moved in together, the compulsive sketching stopped, and maybe that was why looking through the art triggered my nightmares again.
They weren’t half as intense with Thomas’s arms around me, though. I didn’t wake up screaming or crying, just gasping for air and trembling. He considered calling off his trip to Madrid, not wanting to leave me alone for the night, but I managed to convince him otherwise. One night wasn’t something I couldn’t handle, but just in case, a bottle of sleeping pills was tucked in the nightstand drawer.
Thomas placed the sketchpad aside, tugging on my hand until I sat astride on his laps. “Thank you for showing me this.”
“Thank you for being my happy place.” I pressed my finger to his cheekbones, sealing his lips with an affectionate kiss. “I have something to ask you, but before I do, please don’t feel obliged to agree, okay? I know this whole situation is difficult as it is, and I don’t expect…”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “Can you just say what you want to say instead of telling me what my reaction should be?”
I pursed my lips. “Fine. James thinks it might be a good idea for you to come with me to one of the therapy sessions…”
“Okay,” he cut in.
“I wasn’t done talking.”
“I know,” he chuckled, patting my bum. “Come on; I need a smoke.”
H
e grabbed my coat from the hanger in the hallway and draped it over my shoulders. The railing surrounding the balcony was covered in a thin layer of frost, the tiled floor slippery. Midnight was just over three hours away, but it didn’t stop people from setting off fireworks early. The sky lit up in pink on our right, then in blue on our left, the displays short, cheap, and pointless.
Thomas offered me his Zippo, resting his elbows on the railing, watching the quiet road beneath. “I’ve wanted to go to therapy with you for a while now. There are some things I want to ask James, and I’m sure he’ll tell me how I can help you more.”
“There’s more to my issues than I expected.” I blew out a cloud of smoke. “Since that we’ve talked through certain things, James showed me where I went wrong, but I’ll let him explain. Now, I think we should join my brother and the rest of the gang.”
Nicholas gave us tickets to some fancy New Year’s Eve party on a yacht down at the Royal Docks. We didn’t feel like going at first, but now I thought we could both use some time to unwind.
***
The day before the vernissage, Thomas flew out to Madrid. I was thirty-six hours away from showcasing my paintings for a wide audience of art connoisseurs, and the moment Thomas left the house at eight o’clock in the morning, I got cold feet.
When Thomas left, Chase appeared, ready to help and keep my spirits high. On my request, either Mel or Nick kept us company the whole time. Thomas wasn’t Adrian-level jealous, but he wasn’t pleased about me spending time alone with Chase, and I didn’t want to upset him. Besides, an extra pair of hands was in demand at all times. I had no idea how much work went into preparing an art exhibition.
We sent out over one hundred personalised invitations, and Nick took care of advertising the event online.
On Wednesday, Mel helped me pick my clothes and did my hair while Chase made sure I knew my opening speech off by heart. Thomas called around two o’clock to say his flight has been delayed, and he wouldn’t make it back on time for the opening.
We arrived at the venue thirty minutes ahead of time, but the nerves kept me company for a long time.
“Still no sight of Thomas?” Chase asked, joining me in the foyer shortly after my opening speech. “Did he call?”
“Not yet,” I glanced at my wristwatch, “but he should be landing anytime now. He texted me two hours ago, just before take-off.”
Chase draped his hand across my shoulders. “Come on, you can have a short break while the crowd is busy admiring the exhibition.”
We walked outside, hiding under the small canopy outstretched above the main entrance. I lit a cigarette, resting my back on the wall, my lips fixed into a permanent smile.
“Thank you,” I said looking at Chase who cringed every time I blew out a cloud of smoke. “This is a dream come true.”
“My pleasure. You’re very talented, Nadia. It would be a waste not to let others see your work.”
My smile deepened, and I looked into the sky, wondering if it would be childish if I screamed in joy. My gaze dropped to Chase, drawn by the way he toyed with his lip piercing. It was a tick, and half the time he didn’t seem to realise he was doing it.
“You’re staring, Nadia,” he said, his voice a loaded whisper.
“I didn’t mean to…”
He cut me off short, taking a step in and weaving his hand through my hair then fastened his lips on mine, parting them slightly and digging the round, smooth piercing into my lower lip.
The cigarette fell out of my hand. My mind drew a blank for the shortest moment before sirens blared and red lights flashed. I pushed him away with both hands, my heart thumping.
“What are you doing?!”
“I’m sorry, I thought…” He clasped his hands at the top of his head. “You’ve been eyeing my lips all day. I thought that’s what you wanted!”
“Because you keep toying with your piercing. It’s involuntary! We’re friends, Chase! God! I’m with Thomas!”
Chase opened his mouth, but I didn’t let him say more. I stumbled back inside. My hands shook for ten minutes while I analysed the whole day wondering if I did, somehow, encourage Chase, but there was nothing that stood out.
Ty and I were much closer, but neither of us ever considered our relationship anything other than friendship. I slept in the same bed with him more times than I could count, sat on his lap at the clubs, kissed his cheek and hugged him for no reason.
“You okay? You’re pale, sis.” Nick snapped me out of my thoughts.
“I’m fine. I just need a glass of water. It’s too hot in here.”
“You’ve got goose bumps and you’re hot?” He pressed his hand to my forehead. “I don’t think you’ve got a fever. Thomas just called. He’ll be here in twenty. Hold on, I’ll get you some water.”
My stomach tied in knots, the grim possibility of losing Thomas’s trust gathered above me like thunder clouds. Hiding the incident wasn’t an option. Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead.
My thoughts raced a hundred miles an hour until Nick handed me a glass of water. I gulped half, took a deep breath, and focused on the task at hand, smiling at everyone who made eye-contact.
Thomas entered the gallery twenty minutes later as promised, a three-piece charcoal suit partly hidden under a black smart coat and a large bouquet of red roses in his hand.
He stopped in the foyer, scanning the room with a small smile. His eyes roamed over the many paintings that hung on the walls first, and the approval written all over his handsome, albeit tired, face calmed me down in an instant. He searched the crowd of elegantly dressed art connoisseurs until his cinnamon eyes landed on me.
I rolled my eyes a little when he sized me up and down, smirking under his nose, probably amused by the string of pearls on my neck and the long, elegant black dress Mel made me wear.
“Sorry I’m late, baby doll,” he said, handing me the flowers.
“You’re here now. And thank you. They’re beautiful.”
He kissed my forehead, even though we both wanted more after three days of not seeing each other.
“The turnout is great. Everyone looks in awe of your work.”
He drew me to his side, draping his arm around my shoulder. The unease that settled over me thanks to Chase amplified with Thomas’s proximity. He pushed me away a moment later, looking into my eyes, concern in his. I loved and hated that he read my mood with ease as if he had a first-row seat into my thoughts.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice tense.
I shook my head, glancing around the room. Chase stood at the back, talking to someone about one of the paintings. I tensed even more when our eyes locked. He didn’t seem apologetic but stood taller when he noticed Thomas, as if bracing for all hell to break loose.
“We’ll talk later, okay?”
Thomas followed my line of sight. I felt his muscles tense under my touch. Chase still watched us, ignoring whatever the woman in her fifties sporting a pink wig next to him was saying.
“What did he do?”
This wasn’t the time or place to come clean. Thomas had more restraint than Adrian could wish for, but he sure wouldn’t be able to wait for a chance to confront Chase. I hoped he would drop the subject, trust me and wait for the vernissage to finish before pushing for answers, but instead, Thomas took the first step toward Chase.
I caught his hand, halting him in place. The evening was going great. Sketches and paintings were selling well, and a local newspaper journalist was on site. A fight would take priority over my art, and I would never get a chance to showcase my paintings anywhere else.
Thomas squeezed my hand tighter, turned his body the other way, and led me outside through the back exit. I managed to hand the flowers to Mel on our way so she could add them to the pile of other bouquets I received.
“Tell me what happened,” Thomas demanded, a cigarette in-between his lips. “You don’t want me to jump to conclusions. You’re shaken up, and I want to know why. What did
Chase do? Did he upset you? Did he…”
“He tried to kiss me,” I cut in, staring at the wet ground. Rain stopped, leaving small puddles behind. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
Thomas cupped my face, his features pinched, lips a thin line. Anger was clear in his stance, but he didn’t run back inside like I expected.
“Don’t apologise unless you let him kiss you.”
“No, of course not! I pushed him away, but I feel awful because he thought I wanted it as if I led him on.”
I cringed, ashamed and annoyed at my own naivety.
“I didn’t. I swear. At least not knowingly. Amelia and Nick were with us most of the time. They’ll tell you.”
Thomas clenched his jaw tighter, putting his index finger under my chin because my eyes kept darting to the ground.
“You think I’m worried you led him on? Not for a second.” He paused to kiss me, his lips soft and delicate—a striking contrast to the rock-hard muscles in his shoulders. “I trust you. I know you did nothing to encourage him. Of all people, Chase is the last guy I consider a threat.”
He moved away, taking a packet of cigarettes out of my pocket, to light one for me.
“He’s playing games, baby. Charles warned me, but I didn’t take any notice. Looks like I shouldn’t have deemed him harmless just because he looks and acts that way.” He handed me the cigarette, then brushed loose strands of my hair away from my face. “Wait here.”
I rose on my toes, stealing another kiss to distract him from whatever was about to happen.
“Please don’t make a scene. The vernissage is going so well, I’d hate it if the newspaper wrote about the CEO of a record label who punched his raising star rather than the paintings.”
“I won’t hit him, not that I don’t want to.”
He walked through the emergency exit, leaving me alone. This was definitely not the way I imagined my first vernissage to go. I pinched the ash from the cigarette and threw it into a bin, glancing around the back alley.
Three out of four streetlamps were dark. I was grateful for the motion detector light that hung above the green exit door, casting a bright glow that lit up the small back yard, the adjacent pavement and halfway across the narrow street.