“I’ll make you lunch then. Geez, Nicky, when was the last time you ate?” She hopped down from the counter, blessing whatever momentary grace allowed her to land on her feet in the heels. She took them off of her feet and shot him a playful look before tossing them out of the kitchen, next to the door. She opened the fridge and saw the remnants of food from his mother’s restaurant, the food service tin and Styrofoam and plastic. She shook her head and looked around the door at him. “No wonder you’re not in the mood to visit the resto,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Your mom must’ve sent the full menu here.” Nick looked at her over his beer bottle, and Angharad’s resolve faltered. He looked so heartbroken. And well he should. Angharad bit her lip, wishing she knew what to do.
“I’m tired of being babysat, Annie,” Nick said, putting down his beer.
“I’m not here to babysit you, Nick,” she replied, ducking back around the door of the fridge. There had to be something to cook. She dug through the cartons and tins of food, found to her amazement that the fridge, beyond surface appearances, was actually decently stocked. “How about a change from French food? You have two gorgeous steaks right here that”—she sniffed the cellophane—“really need to be cooked and eaten soon.” She pulled them out, put them down on the counter behind her without looking at Nick. She could feel his gaze on her, his eyes taking in her legs, her feet. “You’ve even got lemons,” she commented, seeing them out of the corner of her eye. Looking in the vegetable drawer, she pulled out a bag of salad greens, a bunch of radishes, a couple of carrots. She tried to think of a way not to have to close the fridge, to avoid the intense, accusing stare. After a few more moments of rummaging, she had no excuse anymore, and took a deep breath, closing the door.
“Who talked you into coming? Was it Sylvain himself, or did Paolo do his best as your boyfriend to convince you to come and watch poor little Nick, make him eat something?”
Angharad put the salad fixings on the counter next to the steak, and turned to face her accuser.
“Sylvain has no part in this,” she said, picking up her beer and taking a long drink of it. “And you do need to eat something. You’re skinnier than usual.”
“So it was Paolo,” Nick said, pouncing on the omission. He suddenly lost his pose of relaxation, standing straight, so much taller than she. Angharad wished she hadn’t gotten rid of the heels.
“I didn’t say that. Look, let me fix you a steak, and a salad.”
“I don’t want a goddamned steak!” Nick threw his empty—fortunately into the recycling bin. He wheeled around to face her again. “I’m tired of the constant vigil, of everyone feeling so fucking sorry for poor widowed Nick!” He pulled at the door of the fridge, opening it roughly enough that glass jars rattled. He took a beer out, opened it. In a change of pace that startled Angharad—who expected him to slam its contents—he took a sip. “You know, Annie, you were the only person I wasn’t mad at. How did you let Paolo talk you into this? I just want to be left alone for a while.” He sighed, deflating.
“I’m not here to babysit you, Nick. If I had thought you would resent me for it, I sure as hell wouldn’t have come.” Angharad took another sip of her beer.
“So why are you here?”
Angharad quickly sipped her beer again, buying time. Nick didn’t allow the attempt. His sharp mind jumped ahead. “Paolo did convince you to come and see me, didn’t he?” Angharad nodded. “Annie, I’m okay. Really I am.” Angharad, emboldened, raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not okay, Nick. You haven’t shaved in days. You clearly aren’t eating. Everyone’s worried. Sure, Paolo convinced me to come over…” She paused. “But, really, I should’ve been a better friend. I should have visited sooner.”
“Everyone visits me all the time.” Nick closed his eyes, leaned against the door of the fridge. “Everyone’s so worried. They think I’m so fragile.” Angharad noticed the dark smudges underneath his closed eyes, relics of sleeplessness.
“Not fragile,” she said quietly. “They… they know how much she meant to you. They’re worried you’re going to do something stupid.”
“And you’re here to prevent me?” Nick snorted and took a sip of his beer, stepping away from the fridge, turning away from her. Angharad smiled slightly, drained the last of her own beer, and leaned her hip against the counter, willing her spine to become steel, willing her voice not to betray her nervousness.
“Something like that.”
Nick looked over the edge of the bottle at her. His eyes widened. He put his beer down, leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, his gaze on her, taking her in.
“Paolo sent you here to distract me,” he said, a not-quite question, in a flat voice. Angharad nodded slowly, trying to frame words that sounded more confident than she felt.
“He noticed—I guess—he said some things. He knows I… he said he saw the way we look at each other.” Angharad felt the blood rushing into her face, knew her cheeks and chest were coloring bright red. Nick smiled, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. “I have no idea if what he said is true for you.” Suddenly, she didn’t know what to do with her hands. How many times had she felt that way around Nick, when some twist of circumstance had left them alone together? She never seemed to know what she should be doing, where she should be looking. How ironic that Paolo wanted her to distract Nick, when Nick was the ultimate in distraction with his predatory good looks and charisma. “What the hell. I’ll cook you a steak, make a salad. We’ll have a couple of beers.” She’d already decided he was going to reject her anyway. She may as well change the subject. Get some worthwhile good accomplished.
“What’s the hurry?” Nick asked, opening the fridge and grabbing another beer. He pulled off the top and put it in her hands. Angharad looked up and found herself the subject of that intense gaze, his eyes bright in the light. There was something about him that made her almost want to hide, to leave. She had the urge to run away, tell Paolo that she’d been rejected, and pick a fight over what an awful idea it had been. “So Paolo has noticed things, has he?” Nick’s gaze moved over her face, her eyes, her lips. “You said you don’t know if what he said is true for me. Is it true for you?” Angharad opened her mouth to speak, closed it. Her throat squeezed so tightly that she couldn’t have produced sound, even if she’d had words in her mind to speak. There was nothing for her but the eyes watching her, the cupid’s bow lips slightly curved in a musing smile, the way she was held down by nothing more than one man’s sight. “How do you look at me, Annie?”
“I don’t know,” she said, finding her voice, trying for humor. “I’ve never been outside myself to see.” She was trembling, not in fear exactly, but from a million different impulses warring for control of her nervous system. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. She wanted to grab Nick and shake him, or hug him. He was close enough that she imagined she could almost feel his body heat through his clothes. She saw him breathe in, saw his pupils dilate just slightly.
Angharad took a step back and found herself pressed right against the counter and the cabinet beneath it. “Drink your beer before it gets warm,” Nick said, reaching for her hand, lifting it toward her mouth. Angharad obediently drank, as much for the excuse of looking away as because she wanted the beer. The feel of his hand, the brush of his fingertips against her skin, the guitar string calluses a pleasant roughness, left her even more confused than his intent watchfulness. “Do you want to do this, Annie, or are you just doing it because Paolo talked you into it?”
“I want to,” Angharad said. She managed to look up at his face. That was what she’d really been scared of, wasn’t it? That Paolo had been right? That she had more than just a friendly feeling toward Nick. That she followed him with her eyes whenever he was in the room. How could you not, she wondered, taking in his high cheekbones, his eyes darkened to cerulean gazing down at her, his mouth firm but so tempting. His face was almost bird-like in its angles, still youthful even with the sorrow of having lost
his wife. There was an odd, fluid grace in his movements, unlike most tall and lanky people Angharad had known. Nick was at ease in his own skin, knew where his limbs were at all times. It was the secret of his guitar playing. Angharad’s pulse quickened, remembering the sight of him playing. How she had, more than once, almost wished she could be a guitar in his hands, to feel his skillful, sensitive fingertips moving over her, drawing out sound.
Almost before she could react, Nick tilted her face further up, leaning down and claiming her lips. She was surprised at how soft they were, the warmth of them as the shock of the moment passed, and she found herself moving onto the balls of her feet. He kissed her hungrily, demanding, lifting her up onto the counter when the difference in their heights made the position uncomfortable. She felt his tongue slide along her lips, and obediently opened them, tasting the beer on his lips, a subtle sweetness underneath, and the bite of cigarette smoke. His hands moved along her waist, stroking downward to her hips, finding the hem of her shirt and gliding under it. His hands were cool against her, or perhaps she was so hot, from the summer and the sudden rush of her blood. Tentatively, her hands moved along his back, up to his shoulders. Her tongue, seemingly with a mind of its own, playfully darted out to explore his mouth, and she found herself caught in a trap as he sucked lightly on it, nibbling gently. His hands gripped her hips tightly, pulled her closer somehow, her legs draped around his body, warmth spreading down from her chest.
Nick’s mouth moved from hers, and he kissed along her jawline, to the sensitive patch just below her ear, biting softly at the spot where her pulse raced in her neck, his tongue slick against her skin. His hands drifted over the silky fabric of her skirt, caressing her legs underneath, pressing heat and the sense of sudden urgency into her skin. “This skirt,” he murmured in her ear, amusement rippling through his voice. “The first time I saw you in it, I wondered what it would look like on my floor.” He lifted her, hands guiding her legs around his hips. She could feel his cock through the tight denim, already hard, pressing right up against her. He nibbled on her neck, and she moaned softly, almost melting into him. How had he known her weak spot so readily? “If Paolo is going to be so generous, the least I can do is be gracious,” Nick said, holding her tightly against his body as he strode out of the kitchen. Angharad felt the precarious moment of uncertainty. He was so thin, she worried about their ability to make it to wherever Nick was taking them. Angharad watched the kitchen disappear behind them, took in the off-white walls of the hallway interrupted by the occasional framed photograph. Nick’s lips played along her neck again as he walked, one arm around her shoulders, the other hand warm against her ass. Angharad barely had time to notice the living room in passing before Nick turned into another, smaller hallway.
Angharad focused her attention on Nick’s neck, heedless to the danger of distracting him, nibbling and licking and placing featherlight kisses along his jaw. She felt a fierce, delighted pride at the sound of him moaning, the way he paused, his hold on her weakening momentarily before strengthening. “Naughty naughty,” he said, his voice a purr in her ear. “Shouldn’t distract me. I might…” He walked through a door, made a few more strides, and she fell onto the bed. “Drop you,” he finished, pouncing on her with a little smile, his hands already wandering. Angharad giggled softly, her hands moving to make short work of his T-shirt. She wanted to see him, wanted to feel his hot skin against hers with nothing in between. Instead, Nick claimed her mouth again, distracting her by kissing her so deeply she became dizzy, breathless. She felt his hands exploring her body, the quick, deft way he made his way over the topography of her curves. She had enough conscious thought to direct her own hands, finding the bottom of his T-shirt, sneaking her hands underneath it, learning the velvety heat of his back, running her hands over his sharply defined shoulder blades, gently probing the tense muscles along his spine. She smiled against his lips, kneading away the tension she found, working from the base of his neck downward slowly, taking advantage of the way he relaxed into her to take control of the kiss. She probed his mouth playfully, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and nipping it carefully, her whole body vibrating in tune to the sound of his moan. Nick’s hands on her body suddenly regained their urgency, his kissing becoming forceful again as one hand moved up to cup one of her breasts, the other pushing her hip against his body.
Angharad heard herself moaning as his hand moved from her hip down her thigh, finding its way around the flimsy barrier of her skirt, and then back up her leg. Then her attention was divided between the hand slowly making its way upward, along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and the one that had managed to slip her shirt away, sliding the strap of her bra down from her shoulder and freeing one of her breasts, caressing and teasing lightly. She moaned into his lips, her own hands moving along his back, his shoulders, feeling the trembling of her body whenever she tried to stop touching, kneading, caressing. Nick’s lips left her mouth, and Angharad heard herself moan more loudly than before as his lips found the spot on her neck again, his teeth and tongue laying claim to it while his skilled fingers pinched and rolled her nipple between them. She arched up into him, her hips moving downward of their own volition, her hands clenching on his shoulders at the sudden, sharp pleasure. In the part of her mind not involved in the intense sensations, she heard him chuckle, pleased at her response.
Nick sat back, and Angharad watched his eyes, taking in the sight of her, bright in the semi-gloom of his bedroom. The bed he had thrown her on was huge, with a wrought-iron frame and soft blue-and-white sheets. The light came in through windows high up on the walls, not enough to fully brighten the space but sufficient for them both to see. “This goes first, I think,” Nick said, lifting her upper body slightly, his hands pulling her shirt up. Angharad helpfully held her arms over her head and leaned in for a kiss when the shirt was past her face, thrown somewhere of no consequence.
Nick’s hands found her breasts and squeezed slightly before crushing her body to his, kissing her deeply again. Angharad tried for his T-shirt, and this time, finally, she was successful, pulling it over his head, breaking the kiss for only an instant and banishing it to some dark corner, pressing her body against his. “This is hardly fair,” Nick murmured into her lips, his hands reaching around to unclasp her bra. “You’re not allowed to be any less naked than me from now on,” he told her firmly, easing the bra away from her body, his hands claiming her breasts again. She marveled at how ideally they fit into his hands before he distracted her with his dexterity, somehow holding them and teasing her nipples with each hand at the same time.
“Oh,” she gasped, her body shifting into his, her head thrown back, pushing her breasts more firmly into his grasp. And then she gasped again when he ducked his head down and his lips found one of her nipples, stealing the spot from his fingers. She shuddered with pleasure as he licked and sucked and carefully nibbled, the fingers of his other hand teasing. She felt the heat travel all the way down in a flash to her pussy, felt her legs wrap tightly around him.
“Oh, Nick,” she panted as he switched to her other breast, his fingers taking over in teasing the saliva-slicked flesh. Her hands moved wildly across his body, exploring the plane of his chest. Her fingertips found his nipples, and she gently teased them, barely running her fingernail in circles around each. Nick groaned into her flesh, pushing his hips up into her own, rocking his lower body against her. She could feel the heat of his body through his jeans, feel him hard already, straining at the confines of his clothing, right up against her through the lace of her panties.
He pinned her against the bed, his hands darting underneath her skirt while he covered her breasts in kisses. One hand slipped between her legs and stroked her through the thin fabric, already damp from her arousal. “Mmmm.” He looked up at her, smiling. “You always are in such a hurry. I should’ve known you’d be this wet already.” He barely ran his knuckles along her pussy and slipped one finger around the lace to caress her mound slowl
y. Angharad tried to push her hips down for deeper contact, but he withdrew, his hands moving up to the waistband of her underwear. He pulled them down in a decisive movement and then eased them down her legs, teasing her with slowness. When he had them off, his hand was between her legs again, his fingers probing the silky wet labia, slipping between the folds and slowly stroking up and down. Angharad shivered, wanting more, needing more. When she tried to push her hips down, she felt him pin her down by the hip, and she opened her eyes to look down at him, to see him grinning up at her, pleased with his strategy. “I want you to beg,” he told her, his fingertips slowly caressing along her slit, featherlight. Angharad tried to squirm, to push her hips free of his control, with no success. He chuckled, moving his hand away, looking her in the eye as he brought his fingers up to his face and licked them.
“I am not going to beg,” Angharad told him, crossing her arms over her chest. Nick laughed and slid his hand between her legs again. She tried to close her legs, lock him out, but he had already thought of that. He had draped her legs around his body so that when she tried she only brought their bodies closer together. He touched her tenderly, his clever fingertips finding the area around her clit but never quite touching it. Angharad bit her lip, willing herself to remain strong, not to give him the satisfaction. Still keeping her pinned, Nick leaned down and secured one of her nipples in his lips again, looking up at her while he licked and sucked, and watching her face when he suddenly nipped her with his teeth.
Striking a Chord (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) Page 2