A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series)

by Grace, Sorcha

  “The situation is complicated.”

  I snorted at that. Complicated was one of those catch-all words that seemed to say something but really said nothing at all.

  Undeterred, William went on. “I don’t want to pull you into it. The less you know, the better. Now, who was that guy?”

  I sighed. There was no getting out of it. “It was Jeremy Ryder. He’s my former brother-in-law.”

  William stared at me, not speaking. His eyes were wide, and he actually looked a little stunned.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. Darius didn’t allow me out of his sight, and I know George is an expert at finding information for you.” We both knew what I was referring to. We were back to those dossiers I’d found at William’s penthouse. Dossiers about women William might date.

  But instead of looking angry, he looked utterly deflated. “Catherine.” His voice was flat, my name more a whisper than a word. “Was your meeting planned? Was it about…your husband?”

  “It wasn’t planned,” I said, notching my chin up. “I haven’t spoken to Jeremy in months, not since before I moved to Chicago. It was nice to catch up, actually. And yes, we talked about Jace.” From the corner of my eye, I saw William’s color pale. This wasn’t what I had been expecting from him at all.

  “Did he hurt you in any way?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. We talked a lot about Jace, that’s all. And then he gave me a ride. Why?”

  William started running his hands through his hair. He looked up at me, frustration clearly evident in his eyes. “I hated that you left with him, but once I knew you were coming home, that it was what you needed, I had to let you go.”

  I stiffened and stopped sniveling. “What you do you mean you knew I was coming home and you let me go?”

  “You skipped out on Darius a little too easily—and that will be handled—but my security trailed you. Once you got to the airport and they saw you run away from the man you were with, I wanted them to stop you. They ran a trace on the car and it came back registered to an Amy Mason, a lawyer in Pacific Heights. She was clean but that didn’t explain the guy. She’s an only child, no brothers. And no roommates. They were still trying to find some link, but by then the gate agent assured me that you looked fine—a little upset, but fine—so your ticket was issued.”

  I was speechless. I had forgotten who I was dealing with. William was one of the richest men in America and, apparently, that meant there were few things his money, power, and influence couldn’t touch—including my apparently feeble attempt at a clean getaway. I was so out of my league here and I started to feel a little sick to my stomach.

  It seemed like an eternity passed before he spoke again. “You miss him, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

  I didn’t miss Jeremy; in fact, I hoped I’d never see Jeremy again. Then it hit me. He was asking if I missed Jace. He thought I was with Jeremy because of Jace. William thought he left me alone and I had run back to the memory of my dead husband. That he could never compete with that. Oh my God, I had made such a bigger mess of things than I even realized.

  I looked up at William and he was watching me closely. My eyes locked with his, silently pleading that we just end this conversation so it would go no further. I was more ashamed than ever of my history with Jeremy and I never wanted William to know about it. He’d never forgive me for it, not now. My baggage was what could ruin us, just like I feared it could from the very start.

  Then he started talking, softly but so earnestly it leveled me. “Catherine, I understand why you’re upset, but the fact remains that you can’t keep thinking the worst and running away. You shut down before you even give me a chance to explain. I know you’ve been through so much, and it kills me that you’ve gone through all that you have. But you need to trust me and to let me take care of you. I need to do that and you need that too. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise, I’ll always come back. Always. I won’t leave you.”

  Holy shit.

  Neither of us spoke, the hiss of the burners the only sound in the kitchen. We were at an impasse. My body was rigid with tension and anguish, with grief and guilt, and I kept my hands wrapped around my upper arms as I stared at the floor.

  “The stew has to simmer for a while,” William said. “And I need to clear my head. I’m going out.”

  I raised my eyes and must have looked shocked because he immediately added, “I’ll take Laird for a walk.” Laird, who’d been lying on the floor keeping an eye on the two of us, jumped up at the sound of his name. “I enjoy the quiet after a big snow,” he said, whistling for the dog. Laird followed. Even he couldn’t resist William Lambourne.

  I stood in the kitchen without moving. I knew William was upset. The only other time he had walked away from a discussion was when I told him I was a widow and that I knew about his family’s deaths. William Lambourne was a man who didn’t like surprises and that had been a huge one. He hadn’t been prepared to handle it that night. But he had handled it eventually, and he was doing a much better job of handling it now than I ever could have imagined. Holy, holy shit. I hated fighting, and I hated that I’d, again, made him so upset he needed a break. And I hated that I had the power to really hurt him and I was already doing it without even trying.

  I poured another glass of wine and sipped it, moving to the couch. Between the aromas of the food making my stomach rumble and all the thoughts swirling around in my head, I couldn’t concentrate on anything and didn’t try. I just sat.

  A while later—it was probably an hour, but it felt like three times that—William and Laird returned. Laird greeted me with a cold nose and a furiously wagging tail. William nodded and headed into the kitchen. I followed, watching while he checked on the stew. He stirred and tasted it. “Should be ready soon.”

  “I’ll set the table,” I said. Anything to get away from the tension. The air seemed pregnant with it. I carried two plates into the dining room and stopped cold at the sight of Beckett’s baking bonanza. I’d eaten my way through quite a bit last night and Beckett had taken as much as he could carry, but there was still a lot left, and it was spread out on the dining table. I consolidated the smaller treats—the cupcakes, tarts, cream puffs, and éclairs—onto one plate and set it aside. But that still left a small but untouched chocolate cake. Neither Beckett nor I had wanted to cut it last night. He’d frosted it in pink vanilla buttercream and styled it to look as though it was covered with rose petals. It was so pretty that I almost wanted to photograph it, but now I had to move it. I didn’t have any more room out here, so the cake would have to go to the kitchen.

  Cake in hand, I walked around the breakfast bar and spotted an empty square of counter near where William was cooking on the AGA. We’d said no more than ten words to one another since he’d returned, and I wasn’t expecting him to speak. But just as I moved past him, he abruptly turned. I couldn’t stop in time and smashed the cake into his expensive tailored shirt.

  I gasped, and William muttered, “What the hell?”

  Pink frosting and crumbled cake plopped from his shirt onto the floor, and we both burst out laughing. We couldn’t have planned it if we’d tried. We’d both been in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time. “I am so sorry,” I said between giggles.

  “I didn’t see you.”

  I set what was left of the cake on the counter and stared at the damage. William’s hands had frosting on them, as did mine, and I grabbed two towels and handed him one, using the other to wipe my hands. He licked a finger. “This is good. Beckett’s work?”

  “He goes overboard when left unsupervised with the AGA,” I said. I crouched down and wiped cake and frosting from the floor. Above me, William unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the counter. I rose, intending to throw the ruined cake into the trash, but William, now shirtless, stood in my way. My breath caught, and I stood there with cake in my hands, staring at his sculpted torso. Those four AM workouts might annoy me, but the results were evident. Every muscle of his
naked chest and abs was clearly defined. His trousers were loose and hung on his hips without the shirt tucked in. I could imagine slipping my hand into the waistband and teasing him into arousal.

  Instead, not really knowing what I was doing, I reached over and smeared pink frosting onto his nipple. He was cold, his nipple was hard, and I leaned forward and put my hot mouth on him, licking the pink frosting off with a swipe of my tongue. He didn’t move. He didn’t even seem to breathe. He stood completely still. I was too afraid to look at him, to see his reaction, but he hadn’t stopped me, so I swiped frosting on his other nipple and licked that off too.

  I could feel his arousal in the heat radiating off him. I saw it in his tight stance, and the way he fisted his hands at his sides. I looked up at his face and saw his eyes had turned molten grey. The color of arousal. My favorite color these days.

  With my gaze locked on his, I wrote a C on the center of his chest in bright pink. It was my version of branding him. Then, licking my lips, I bent and marked him with my tongue. I lifted my hand to write the A—I could have done this all evening—but William moved first. His hands closed on my waist and he lifted me to the counter, his mouth coming down hard on mine as he sat me down. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, pulling his hard heat against my core.

  “You’re so sweet,” he murmured as our mouths came together again and again. I knew he was tasting the frosting, and I rubbed my tongue along his to give him the full flavor. He groaned, and his hands on my hips tightened. His mouth turned fierce, his kisses mirroring his need for me. Slowly, deliberately, his hands moved up my body, exploring, tracing, teasing, until I was breathless and pressing my hips against his hard erection. He cupped my face, slanting his mouth over mine again and again until I was dizzy with desire.

  “Damn.” William pulled back, and I grasped his shoulder to keep from falling sideways. From somewhere far away I heard a buzz.

  “Timer,” William said.

  “I knew that.”

  He gave me a knowing smile, and pulled me to the edge of the counter. I slid down his body until my feet landed on the floor. We stood like that for a long moment, pressed together, our gazes lasered on each other. And then he pulled away, silenced the timer, and announced that the beef bourguignon was ready.

  We cleaned up then sat at the table and ate the delicious meal. It was rich and hearty—perfect, as William had said, for the cold night. We drank wine and kept our conversation casual. Clearly, the tension had passed. For the most part. I knew our disagreements were waiting just under our comfortable truce, but neither of us wanted to raise them to the surface again tonight.

  I presented the plate of Beckett’s creations for dessert, and William chose a chocolate éclair and a cheesecake pop. I nibbled a deep pink raspberry macaron that reminded me of the color of William’s rosé in Napa, and resisted the urge to eat a cupcake.

  “These are better than expected,” William said, licking his fingers. “They’ll be perfect.”

  I frowned. “Perfect for what?”

  “Just perfect,” he said with a shrug. By the time we’d finished cleaning up the kitchen, William was yawning. He tried to hide it, but I caught him once or twice. He must have been exhausted. Not only had he gone on a long walk and cooked a gourmet dinner, he’d just flown through a snowstorm to get here. If his plane had been diverted to Omaha, he’d probably spent the night there.

  I also knew how much he hated flying, and he’d certainly had to do a lot of it the past few days. His nerves must be frayed and his body on the verge of collapse. Once again I’d been selfish. How could I not have realized how exhausted he must be? And yet, he’d come to see me. He’d cooked me dinner. He’d put me first.

  I took his hand and led him to the bedroom, crawling into bed after him. He spooned me and nuzzled my neck. He was clearly willing to make the effort, and I was tempted to let him, but I knew he needed sleep more than sex. A moment later, his breathing grew deep and regular. I lay awake for some time, safe in his arms, and trying not to read too much into the fact that this was the first time we’d slept together and not had sex.

  Eleven

  William stirred beside me, and I opened my eyes, expecting complete darkness. It was dark, but grey light filtered through the slats in the blinds. A quick glance at my phone told me it was almost six-thirty. “What happened to your four AM wake-up call?” I said with a yawn.

  “You proved too great a temptation this morning,” he said, nuzzling my neck.

  “Good.”

  “Good?” His lips moved to my jaw and his hand caressed my breast.

  “I love waking up with you. I keep telling you that.” It was a rare occurrence and made this morning all the more special. I turned to face him, intending to kiss him lightly good morning, but he pulled me against his chest and kissed me deeply. His hand on my breast felt good as it kneaded and massaged my tender flesh.

  “William,” I said with regret. “I’m still on my period.”

  “And?” His body covered mine, and he lowered his mouth to the breast he’d been working. Gently, he drew my nipple between his lips, applying the perfect amount of pressure to leave me breathless and somewhere between pleasure and achy need.

  “And…” I couldn’t think with him touching me. His hands roamed over my body, and before I knew what happened, my T-shirt was gone and his hands and mouth were on my other breast. My heart slammed in my chest and the blood roared in my ears as my body responded to his efforts. I could feel my hips rising to cup his erection, could feel my sex growing swollen and wet.

  Summoning my last bastion of strength, I gave him a playful push. “Stop. I have to shower and get to work.” I sat and pulled my shirt back on. William lay back, watching me lazily.

  “I’m heading over to Beckett’s to finish up work on the Fresh for Spring campaign. We have to submit the shots we did today. Remember, crisp green asparagus stalks and snow-flocked cherries?”

  “Duty calls.” His eyes were a dark, unreadable grey, and I watched him warily as I rose and headed for the shower. While I waited for the water to heat up, I reflected how the tables seemed to have turned. Usually William was the one jumping out of bed and heading to the gym or some high-powered meeting. Today, he was lounging under my covers looking perfectly content. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. I tested the water, stepped inside, and closed the curtain. The warm water cascaded over me, and then I heard the curtain open. Naked, William stepped inside.

  Unlike the shower at his penthouse, mine was small and crowded. I only had one shower head, and there wasn’t enough room for both of us to stand side by side. The benefit of the cramped space was that our bodies touched almost immediately. His skin was slick and hot, and I couldn’t stop my hand from running along the sleek muscles of his back. He kissed me as I touched him, then reached for the body wash and squeezed some into his hands, rubbing them together until a citrus-smelling lather formed. He started with my shoulders, his hands moving in small circles, kneading my muscles and spreading slippery soap onto my skin. His fingers slid down my arms and back up. My nipples hardened in anticipation of his slippery fingers, and he didn’t disappoint. His hands slid over my skin with just enough pressure to leave me wanting more.

  I was warm, wet, and soapy, but he wasn’t finished. William was nothing if not thorough. He filled his hands with more soap and worked on my legs, moving higher and higher until I was all but panting. His fingers caressed my inner thighs, the backs of his knuckles brushing against my sex, but he didn’t give me the pressure I wanted.

  “William,” I begged.

  “Turn around.”

  I turned, and he began the same thorough, mechanical washing of my back, his hands gliding over my buttocks and sliding between them until I thought I might have to force him to touch my throbbing clit.

  “Shampoo,” he said. I handed it to him, and he lathered my hair, his fingers working through my scalp, massaging it until I was tingling with plea
sure. He turned me to face him again and angled my head back. I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair, and when I glanced back at him, his gaze was on my up-thrust breasts. “Very nice,” he said. “Now, turn around again.”

  “The water is going to start getting cold,” I told him.

  “Then I’ll have to make this fast.”

  He spun me around, and I caught my balance with one hand on the tiled wall. His hand on my lower back guided me down until I was bending at the waist, the spray of water on my back and legs keeping me warm—along with the ministrations of William’s hands. They were soapy again as he stroked my ass, cupping it then reaching between my legs to massage. One finger brushed my clit, and I bucked against him. His erection was already pressed against my ass, and he guided his cock to my center as he swirled a finger over my clit. I moaned and pushed back on the hard head of his cock, feeling him enter me as his finger slid mercilessly over my swollen clit. My legs trembled, and my body shook as I felt my release build, and then I couldn’t stop it. Like a tidal wave, it washed over me, crashing into me as he entered me at the peak. I slammed a fist against the wall, gasping and struggling to stay on my feet. But William’s arm wrapped around my waist kept me up as he sank his cock into me and thrust fast and hard.

  I braced myself against the tile, my moans and the slap of our bodies echoing in the small space. He kicked my legs farther apart and bent me lower, filling me completely. One hand remained anchored at my waist, while the other stroked my breasts. He teased an aching nipple with his fingers, circling it faster and faster as his thrusts quickened. I could feel another orgasm building, and I tried to stave it off. My legs were already shaking uncontrollably.

  “Let it happen,” he ordered, his voice harsh and husky. The sound of him, raw with passion, sent me over the edge. Pleasure slammed through me as the heat of his cum filled me. His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me flush with him as my body clenched and released and writhed with pleasure.