He answered in a deceptively calm voice, “I’m not concerned with what you need. It’s pretty clear you’re not concerned with what I need.” My head snapped up when I realized what he’d said. Then he covered my clit with his mouth and it dropped right back down on the pillow. He bent me to his will with his mouth and his hands. The strain of being kept unsatisfied broke me. I was being punished and we both knew it. “How does it feel, Vera? Are you frustrated? Angry? Do you feel powerless?” he said quietly, his voice laced with bitterness. I was exhausted and scared of my own feelings so it didn’t take much for tears to fill my eyes.
“Yes!…go ahead, punish me if it’ll make you feel better.” My body went limp in defeat, a tear escaping down my temple. He sat up and scrutinized me, the hardness in his eyes fading away as his expression shifted to concern. His gaze never left my face while he untied the silk. I turned on my side, away from him, and curled into a ball. I couldn’t look at him; I would burst out sobbing if I did. Lying down behind me, he curved his body around mine.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he stroked the hair off my face. There was genuine remorse in his low, raspy voice. His lips dropped to my throat, licking the salty tears away. “I’ll make it up to you. Let me make love to you, Vera, please…I’m begging you.”
Assenting, I turned and raised my swollen lips to his, allowing him to kiss me, sweetly, tenderly. He began stroking my body in earnest, brushing his skilled fingers through my dark curls, and slipping inside of me, all his attention focused on my pleasure. Fueled by the remains of all the tension that had built up, desire exploded between us. In a flurry of impatience, I fumbled with the condom and he almost ripped it. When he positioned himself in the cradle of my thighs, our eyes locked and an unspoken apology passed between us, the moment expanding into something of greater consequence than either one of us had anticipated.
This feels so right.
I held him with my arms and legs and everything else I had to give––all my love and desire. He rocked his hips and, as he drove his hard body into me, my mind and heart screamed out all the words that my lips couldn’t.
“Home,” he whispered, wonder shining in those brilliant amber eyes. He made love to me like he promised he would, every thrust driving out pain and anger, every thrust pushing me closer to ecstasy. When he tilted my hips up, he slid so deep I could feel him in my womb, part of me forever, engraved on my soul. And then I let go and raced towards oblivion.
My muscles contracted and pulsed, insisting that he join me. And he did, reared up on a final thrust and shouted my name while his beautiful face twisted in rapture. When the aftershocks faded, he sagged back down and tucked his face into the curve of my neck, the full weight of him pressing me down into the mattress. I held him and stroked his back, ran my nails lightly over his skin, relishing the feel of him…the exquisite moment.
“I love you.” It came out on a deep exhale but I heard it as if he had shouted it at the top of his lungs. My heart sped up. My hands slowed down. Tears pooled in my eyes; tears of surrender and love. “I can’t stop…I can’t stop myself from loving you.”
I swallowed hard. He said it with such unabashed sincerity that it made my conscience hurt. His thick fan of lashes lifted and his eyes met mine, where undiluted love and hope stared back at me.
“I love you, too.” Gripped with fear, I wasn’t even certain that sound came out of my mouth. His face relaxed as he released the breath he was holding.
“Thank God…thank God,” he whispered repeatedly. And then the dam broke, unleashing a surge of emotion so powerful he couldn’t manage it. His mouth crashed into mine. He murmured ‘I love you’ in between every feverish kiss, touch, and stroke. His infectious, unbridled excitement transformed my worries into giggles. After discarding the condom, he climbed back into bed and held me, pressing me to him as if he couldn’t get close enough. We were both quiet as we discovered each other all over again.
“Tired?” he asked.
I traced the contours of his lips with my finger and nodded. “It’s been an eventful day. You look…perky. How are you not tired after drinking a bottle of whiskey?”
The side of his mouth crept up slowly. “No one’s ever had the balls to call me perky to my face.”
“Until I came along,” I said laughing.
“There was nothing before you,” he mumbled, his expression turning so serious that my smile faded. “I had half a glass. There was barely any left. Charles must have gone through an entire case when he was here…tell me about your friend.” Well that didn’t take long. Only I could find that commanding tone endearing.
“Emilia is more than a friend, she’s practically family. We grew up together. Unfortunately she’s been dating a nightclub owner named Yuri Skilenski.”
“I’ve heard of him,” he said, deep thought marking his brow. “Doesn’t he have ties to the Russian mob?”
“The very one. We’ve argued about it but she won’t listen. She called me this afternoon in tears. He beat her up pretty badly, broke a rib, I think.”
Turning onto his back, he blew out a deep breath. “Are you telling me…that you went to that fucker’s place––alone?” Oh…no. I knew that look. “Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid and dangerous that was?”
“Sebastian––”
“No! Don’t say another fucking word,” he interrupted. “What if he’d been there? What if…” Pinning me with a wide, furious glare, he shoved his fingers in his hair and left some pieces standing straight. I sighed audibly as I stared at those wisps of hair sticking up.
Apparently he wasn’t satisfied because he kicked off the covers, stormed out of bed, and dialed his cellphone. “Don’t let Vera out of your sight for a minute. Yeah, she’s sneaky. I want someone watching her every move from now on. I don’t care if you have to follow her into the toilet, okay.”
Click.
I glared back. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?”
“I want you to listen closely,” he said in a low, steady voice. “I love you.”
The sweetly vulnerable look on his face made my heart hurt. “I love you, too.”
“But I’ve never been in love before.” His tone managed to encompass the magnitude of that confession. Had I been standing I would’ve crumpled to my knees. My mind was still in neutral, processing what he had revealed, when he continued. “I won’t have you risking your safety because of some misplaced loyalty to a friend. She’s in a relationship with a fucking criminal that likes to use her as punching bag.”
Maybe he had a point. I hated it when he made sense. He looked truly worried and I didn’t want to do that to him.“Can you come back to bed, please?”
He stood splendidly naked, all six foot three of him, with his hands on his hips, glaring. I wanted to kiss him everywhere. “Are we going to argue about this?”
“No.”
He climbed back into bed and pushed me down on my back, caging me with his big, warm body. He searched my eyes, and dropped a soft kiss on my nose. “I love you, damn it. There isn’t anything I won’t do to keep you safe and smiling.”
I drank his words in, soaked them up like parched earth and spring rain. And then I remembered… “I have to ask you something.”
His gaze sharpened. “Anything.” I hesitated, didn’t know how to begin. The words got caught on my lips. “What is it, lover?” he said, coaxing gently.
“The night we stayed over at your apartment, you were talking in your sleep.”
His head cocked. “I did?”
“It sounded like you were dreaming…about your wife.” We never spoke about her and I liked it that way. It was even hard for me to say the word.
“I don’t remember dreaming about India. What exactly did I say?”
“You said…don’t go. You said,” I took a deep breath, “love you…don’t leave me.”
His brow furrowed. Then he flushed as a spark of recollection entered his eyes. “Vera––that was the night
you ran from me. I was dreaming about you. It was a nightmare actually, you kept running and I couldn’t reach you.”
I inhaled sharply. And all this time I thought…
“I love you,” I said, much louder this time. And he proceeded to convince me with his words and his body that he felt the same way.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
François came in to pick up his dinner after one of his long bicycle rides. The rest of the staff had already eaten. I sensed that he was lonely, needed someone to talk to, so I poured him a tall glass of water and invited him to sit on the kitchen stool while I peeled green apples for Mrs. Arnaud’s famous apple tarte tatin.
“How’s the training going, Lance Armstrong?” I teased.
“Mon Dieu, don’t mention that name to a cyclist. You know they are considering stripping him of his championship titles.”
“Really?”
“He was doping. His entire career apparently. Bloody shame––do you ever watch television?” he replied, teasing me for a change.
“No––medical school and life in general.”
“Good excuse.” His friendly face split with a broad grin. “Training is going well. I’m up to riding 50 km’s a work out and taking three days off in between.”
I looked up in the silent pause and found him staring at my lips. He quickly averted his eyes, but it still managed to embarrass me, a faint flush prickling my collarbone. François had always been a gentlemen and I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, lead him on in any way. I cherished his friendship.
Of course Mr. Impeccable Timing walked in, took in the scene, and came to an abrupt halt. His gaze turned glacial when it settled on poor, unsuspecting François. Recognizing the death stare for what it was, François stood up quickly. Sebastian’s attention slid to me. “Vera, you can bring my dinner to my office.”
“Yes, sir.” Had to keep up appearances, although it galled me to address him in that manner. The awkwardness increased times ten when Sebastian didn’t leave the kitchen right away, as he should have. Instead, he stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at François, and bullied him into leaving first. It didn’t take much. François needed the job. He had a three year old daughter to support and, as a good father, he wouldn’t jeopardize his salary for the sake of a pissing contest. After thanking me profusely for packing up his dinner, François left through the kitchen door. As soon as the door shut behind him, I turned towards Sebastian with a withering scowl.
“What?” The innocent expression that followed the query made my blood boil.
“You know what.”
“You’re mad?”
“I’m not having this discussion when anybody can walk in. I’ll be in you office in twenty minutes.”
In no mood for a debate, I turned away, essentially dismissing him. He stood there for a while, lingering––certainly unaccustomed to being told what to do. But eventually he left, albeit reluctantly. His answer to any problem was bully it, buy it, or run it over and I wasn’t going to allow him to do any of those things to me.
Once the Scottish salmon was done baking, I arranged it on a dish with some grilled vegetables from the garden and roasted potatoes, and headed to his office.
The door was wide open.
“…twelve million––” The voice belonged to a woman. “and there’s more, look at this…” It was booming, and held a hard edge; this woman would whisper under any circumstance. On the contrary, she sounded like the type to flaunt rather than apologize for anything. “I knew there was something irregular about these deposits but…well, I figured you already knew about them and had okayed it with accounting,” she continued. An employee of the bank apparently.
“I didn’t know shit about this. When are the auditors coming in?” Sebastian’s worry was palpable. Whatever was being discussed must have been significant to get him so distressed.
“In ten days. There’s time. Don’t freak out yet––that’s my job. You’re the one that’s supposed to play it cool, ride in and fix this if I can’t.”
“This isn’t funny, Shay. Where did the wires originate from?”
“That’s the shady part…a Panamanian bank. They keep taking messages and not calling me back. I haven’t been able to get any information out of them.”
“Fuck!! Fuck, how long has this has been going on? Have you spoken to Charles?”
“No way. I figured you would want to do that.”
Realizing that his food was getting cold, I knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
He stood with his fists planted on the desk, hovering over some papers while she looked over his shoulder. They both glanced up when I entered. She was very tall with a sleek mane of red hair that looked natural, and wore a sophisticated, camel colored suit with a feminine cut that accentuated her voluptuous figure. Her porcelain skin was line free, even though she was probably around forty. Her intelligent, brown eyes followed me as I crossed the room.
The distance between the door and the desk seemed to have suddenly tripled. I started sweating under her scrutiny. You could hear a pin drop as I placed the tray on the desk. Sebastian caught my wrist as I turned to leave. “Stay––please.” His voice was soft…intimate. I stood frozen in place. My eyes darted to the redhead. There was an almost imperceptible lift of her elegant eyebrows, and then a bright, white smile stretched across her face.
“Longhorn, is this who’s been putting a smile on your face?”
Needless to say, my face burst into flames. Sebastian smiled reluctantly. He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “Yes, and Buckeye, if you give me shit about this––”
She raised her hand as if swearing. “My lips are sealed.” Then she shoved her arm right under Sebastian’s nose and offered me an extended hand. I shook it. She had a very firm grip.
“It. Is. So. Nice. To meet you. I was getting so tired of the moping and the shitty moods. I was ready to start slipping some anti-depressants in his morning coffee. You came along just in time.”
Brazen, definitely brazen.
“Vera, Shay. Shay, Vera,” Sebastian said in an annoyed but-I-love-her anyway tone. “Try not to scare the living shit out of her in the first five minutes of meeting her,” he said to Shay.
“I’m not scaring her. The girl’s got grit, I can tell. She’s taken you on––that says more than enough about her.” I instantly adored her, especially for giving Sebastian a hard time. “Well, I’m going to get going. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” She gathered her purse and briefcase and walked around the desk. Throwing her arms around me, she engulfed me in a warm hug. “Thank you. Thank you, Vera, for making my life bearable again. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
I looked over at Sebastian and resisted the impulse to laugh. His eyes were sulky, and yet he was fighting a grin too. And then she walked out with her hips swinging, and the faint scent of Givenchy’s Amarige following her out. He sat down and watched while I arranged his dinner on the desk, wisely remaining quiet.
“Are you still mad?”
“Of course, I’m still mad,” I snapped. “How could you do that to him? Shay seems wonderful by the way.”
“To him?! I walked in and found him undressing you with his eyes.”
“Sebastian, he is lonely… we were just talking. He’s been a complete gentleman since the day we met––unlike other individuals who shall remain nameless––and he’s your employee. He’s in no position to defend himself. He can’t lose this job. He has a daughter to support.” I crossed my arms like a sour Sunday schoolteacher. He had the good sense to look remorseful.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, grabbed my hand and played with my fingers.
“Your dinner is getting cold.”
“Stay with me while I eat.” It was beyond my capacity to deny this man anything. Only he could never know that. It scared me; the power he had over me. He wouldn’t let me pull away, so I half-sat on the corner of the desk and watched him take a
bite of the salmon. “Where did you learn to cook like this?” he asked, smiling.
“I worked in a restaurant in Milan for six years. And at home, I had to cook otherwise I would’ve been forced to eat my father’s cooking,” I told him, wrinkling my nose.
“What’s Albanian cuisine like?”
“Pretty regular Mediterranean with a Turkish influence. Lots of vegetables, fish. Rather simple.”
“I really am sorry…about François. I lost it when I walked in and found him looking at you like that.”
He tossed his linen napkin over the empty dish. When I moved to grab the plate, he took hold of my wrist and gently pulled me in between his thighs. His touch disarmed me completely, dispelling the aftertaste of chagrin. I pushed the hair off his forehead, raking my short fingernails through it. Exhaling deeply, he wrapped his arms around my waist and placed his cheek over my heart.
“You can’t keep jumping to the worst possible conclusion every time some man speaks to me. And you seem to be under the false impression that I’m some sort of femme fatale.”
He looked up and searched my face while I continued to stroke his hair. “It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s them. And you’re too damn modest to understand what men see when they look at you…I love you and I…I…” He was editing his thoughts, keeping the words from spilling out.
“What is it, lover?”
“I have something for you.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a brand new iPhone, handing it to me.
I held it up and inspected it. “What’s this?”
“It’s called an iPhone. Nifty gadget. You can make calls, write text messages, even emails.”
My lids lowered over annoyed eyes. “Hilarious, but I still don’t understand why I need one.”
The soft look on his face vanished and his eyes narrowed. “Because I need to be able to get a hold of you whenever I need to. I won’t go through that again, not to mention it’s safer for you.” There wasn’t anything I could say or do to dissuade him, resolve was splashed across his handsome face. I looked at my new iPhone suspiciously. “My cell phone, my office, and my email are already programed in there.”
A Million Different Ways (A Horn Novel Book 1) Page 29