For 100 Nights

by Lara Adrian

  I turn to Nick in question.

  “I’m considering buying the property,” he says, urging me forward. “I wanted to get an inside feel for it first. I wanted your opinion too.”

  My brows rise. “Do you evaluate all of your prospective properties with champagne and romantic candlelight dinner for two?”

  “No. Just this one.” A small grin quirks the edge of his lips as he takes off his suit jacket and nods toward the waiting table. “Come on, have a seat. We’re celebrating.”

  He no sooner says it than a pair of waiters emerge from a doorway and enter the room with us. They’re dressed in tuxedos and white gloves, their service both efficient and impeccable as they see to our comfort at the table, then proceed to serve us the champagne and a basket of warm French bread.

  A plate of oysters arrives a moment later, carried in by a third server.

  I’m gaping and there’s nothing I can do about it. “How did you arrange all of this?”

  Nick smiles and tips his flute toward mine. “I have my ways.”

  “You certainly do.” I laugh as our glasses meet with a soft clink. “What are we celebrating tonight?”

  “The rec center approvals came in today.”

  “Nick, that’s wonderful!”

  He nods, his pride plainly evident. “Took a long damn time, but we finally got clearance on the plans for construction.”

  “Congratulations.” I raise my glass to him in another toast. “This is a big deal, Nick. I know how much the center means to you. You should be having a big celebration.”

  “I am. This dinner is costing me a small fortune,” he says with a boyish smirk. He sets down his glass and reaches for my hand. “And it’s worth it. There was only one person I wanted to share this news with outside of Beck and the rest of my staff.”

  He strokes the back of my hand, his gaze locked on mine with such intensity I’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. His smile breaks slowly, sinfully, and I can only wonder how he intends to continue our celebration once we leave here tonight.

  My body is already way ahead of my imagination. Just the sensation of Nick’s touch, the mesmerizing heat of his deep blue eyes, is enough to make me quiver with unabashed desire. If he asked me to leave with him right now, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.

  “I hope you like oysters.”

  I nod, watching him pick up a shell and loosen the tender flesh from its cradle. His fingers move so gracefully, so adeptly, it makes my mouth water just to observe his hands in motion. He has beautiful hands, even with the scars.

  “Did you order oysters because you’re planning a seduction, Mr. Baine?”

  His answering grunt is rough, sexy. I lick my lips as he hands the oyster to me across the splash of red silk that separates us. Our fingers brush against each other, lingering.

  “Will I need oysters in order to seduce you, Ms. Ross?”

  “What do you think?” I take the shell from him, but instead of putting the meat into my mouth, I dip my finger into the shallow cup of soft, slick flesh.

  His groan is a raw sound, a deep rumble in the back of his throat. After I’ve tormented him for another moment, I lick my wet, salty finger, then tilt my head back and slide the oyster into my open mouth.

  “Fuck,” he utters hoarsely. “You’re better at this game than you should be.”

  I smile and arch a brow, totally unrepentant. “I’m learning from a master.”

  We settle in, enjoying the appetizers and the champagne, which flows endlessly thanks to our attentive servers. It’s amusing—definitely impressive—sitting in our private dining room at the top of a charming, if vacant, building just five minutes away from the luxury of Nick’s penthouse.

  As always with this man, he’s managed to conjure magic for me.

  For us.

  We enjoy the rest of the oysters, and moments after we’ve eaten the last one, our waiter returns to clear the plates.

  He nods politely to me, then addresses Nick. “Dinner will be served in a few minutes, sir.”

  With Nick’s murmured thanks, we are once again left alone. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for both of us tonight. Filet mignon a la Castille.”

  “Castille,” I echo, my mouth going a bit slack. “You don’t mean, as in, Gavin Castille?”

  Nick nods, then takes a leisurely drink of his champagne.

  I’m gaping. “Gavin Castille, one of the most recognized celebrity chefs in the country. That Gavin Castille?”

  “That’s the one. The one and only, I’m sure the arrogant Aussie would hasten to add.”

  “We had lunch at his restaurant earlier this week.”

  “Yes, we did.” The only thing more incredible than having arguably the hottest chef of the moment catering a private dinner for us is Nick’s self-satisfied grin as he watches me absorb the news. When he said this meal cost him a small fortune, I have no doubt about that now. He shrugs, oh-so-nonchalantly. “I told you I wanted to make up for the way our lunch ended. Consider this my version of a do-over.”

  “You’re crazy.” I bark out a laugh I couldn’t hold back if I tried. Popping out of my chair, I lean across the table and yank him up for an impulsive kiss. “You’re totally insane, you know that?”

  He chuckles, even though his eyes are dark with arousal as I release him and slowly resume my seat across from him. “Gavin’s a friend. He’s also going to be part of the rec center. He’s agreed to donate a chef’s kitchen and personal cooking time with the kids every month, once the center opens. We’re hoping it’ll give the ones recovering from injuries or other trauma a creative outlet while also teaching them skills they’ll need as adults.”

  “Cooking as therapy, huh?” I recall Nick mentioning to me once how he learned to cook because it helped him regain his dexterity and the use of his hand. That he’s applying something so personal to his plans for the recreation center moves me. It amazes me, just as the man himself does.

  “We’ll have other programs in place too,” he says. “I plan on calling in a lot of markers to make the center a success.”

  “It sounds great, Nick. I’m excited for you. I’m excited for the kids you’re going to help.” He nods in acknowledgment, and I take the opportunity to reach over and brush my fingers along the back of his right hand—the one whose scars shine silvery in the low light of the candle. “Maybe you should do some of the cooking lessons too. I can personally vouch for your killer talent in the kitchen. Your breakfast repertoire alone is enough to give Gavin Castille a run for his money.”

  He smirks, turning his hand over to still my tracing of his scars, capturing my fingers in his warm, firm grasp. “Here I thought you loved me for my many other talents.”

  I laugh softly, but my pulse quickens and the center of my chest warms at hearing him acknowledge the depth of my feelings for him.

  “Does it bother you that I told you how I feel about you?”

  He studies me, his handsome face unreadable. “Why would it?”

  “Because you’ve told me yourself that you don’t do relationships.” Because I’ve also seen the scorched earth remains of his other past lovers—beginning with my friend, Margot, who manages his gallery, Dominion. And, more recently, Kathryn.

  I swallow now, uncertain I should be venturing down this path, especially when we’re having such a good time tonight. When I don’t answer right away, Nick does.

  “And because I haven’t said those words to you?”

  I want to deny that it stings, that it confuses me how he can desire me so fiercely—take me so possessively—yet keep me at arm’s length when it comes to his heart. We’ve only been together a few months. A blink of time.

  But it’s been long enough for me to know.

  When he speaks now, his deep voice is gentle, as reflective as I’ve ever heard it. “I’ve never been relationship material, Avery. I had no delusions that I could be when I first laid eyes on you. I wasn’t looking for this. I sure as fuck wasn’t inten
ding for things to go this far between us. I wasn’t expecting . . . you.”

  I nod, because he’s saying the same things I felt. Things I feel even now, except my regrets for how deeply I’ve become entangled with him are complicated by how much I care for him.

  His thumb strokes the center of my palm. “Sometimes I wish I could start over with you, be someone better for you. Someone who isn’t as fucked up. Someone who can love you properly . . . someone you deserve.”

  “Everyone’s fucked up, Nick. And anyway, what makes you the best judge of what I deserve?” When his hand starts to edge away from mine, I hold fast. “I wasn’t expecting you either. I wasn’t looking to feel something like this. But then you look at me like you are right now . . . you take my hand, or you pull me down beneath you, and I think maybe I’ve been waiting for you—looking for you, for this, for us—all my life.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and there is a part of me that worries I’ve said too much. Revealed more than I should have, more than he wants to deal with. He could shred me with a single word right now, with a single shuttered glance.

  But he doesn’t.

  “Avery.” My name is so soft and reverent on his tongue, it nearly makes me weep. His fingers close more intently around mine and he draws my hand to him. He brushes his lips over my fingertips, drawing one of the sensitive pads into his mouth in a sensual, yet heart-breakingly tender kiss.

  My throat constricts with all the love I feel for this man, while inside me every nerve ending strums to life, yearning for the moment when I can be alone and naked with him again.

  I’ve never been more conflicted than I am in that next instant when our waiters walk back into the room, interrupting us with a meal that looks and smells beyond divine.

  Nick releases me as our plates are set in front of us and a bottle of red wine is opened beside our table. The food is amazing, everything cooked and seasoned to perfection.

  We eat with abandon in the candlelight, the nighttime city glittering like a box of dark jewels outside. I feel like a princess in a fairy tale. Even better than that, because as Nick has promised me, this is real.

  He smiles at me as I finish off the last bite of my steak. “What do you think?”

  I take a sip of the smooth Cabernet, reveling in the slight buzz that’s building inside me from the champagne and the wine and the food. The most intoxicating part of the evening is the gorgeous man seated across from me at the table, looking at me as if he cannot wait to devour me next.

  “I think you’re spoiling me beyond all reason. And I’m not just talking about tonight.”

  “Reason is overrated,” he replies, his gaze dark on me. “The best things—the most pleasurable things—only exist on the other side of it.”

  “Is that so?”

  He nods slowly, his gaze riveted on me as he brings his wine glass to his mouth, studying me over the rim. “I want to push you to the limits of everything that pleases you, Avery. I want to push you past those limits.”

  I swallow, heat rushing over my skin at his sensual promise. My breasts feel heavier under his hungry stare, my nipples peaking in anticipation of his touch, his kiss. The desire that’s been smoldering inside me all evening intensifies now that I know it won’t be long before I’m in Nick’s arms, in his bed.

  I want to ask him to take me there right now, before I combust with need, but at that same moment, our private waitstaff enters the room to clear our dishes and remove the empty wine bottle and glasses from the table. Nick seems in no hurry, and I can’t deny that his patience is somewhat maddening, especially when I am practically itching with the urge to leap on him and tear his beautiful clothes off.

  The muffled sound of wheels rolling over rustic hardwood turns my head in the direction of the door. A tall man in black pants and a white chef’s tunic enters the room with us now, bringing in a silver cart of covered bowls and pedestaled plates with him.

  Although I’ve only seen Gavin Castille on television and the Internet, his trademark dimpled grin and mane of beachy blond hair is unmistakable. The power of that grin, coupled with his pale green eyes, hits me like a tidal wave blast as he approaches Nick and me at the table. After cuffing Nick on the shoulder, Gavin looks at me.

  “You must be Avery.” He holds out his large hand, and my fingers are engulfed in his warm, firm grasp. “Everything to your liking tonight?”

  “Yeah, um, yes,” I stammer. “Everything was incredible.”

  “Glad to hear it. I don’t make a lot of house calls, but my good buddy here said this one was special.” He glances at Nick, giving him a crooked smile. “You weren’t kidding, mate.”

  Nick’s gaze is still searing me, but my senses are tempted by all of the intriguing goodies hidden beneath the polished steel domes on the dessert cart Gavin has brought. I smell warm chocolate, buttery cake, and fresh fruit. I can’t see what awaits us, but I’m certain it’s decadent.

  “How did you manage all of this?”

  “Aussie magic,” Gavin replies with a wink. “And a portable, full kitchen in the truck we’ve got parked out back of the building.”

  “Castille on Wheels,” Nick adds drolly.

  “Hey, that’s not bad.”

  “I’ll have my assistant bill you for the marketing advice.”

  Gavin chuckles. “Yeah, you would, ya bastard.”

  As impressed as I am with Nick for his tremendous business success and his obvious erotic prowess, it is this other side of him I’m seeing now that makes me fall even further under his spell. I love his thoughtful generosity when it comes to the children he aims to help through his recreation center project. I love his unexpected romanticism with me tonight, and his easy camaraderie with his friend.

  God, the truth is, I simply love . . . him.

  “All right, you two,” Gavin says, giving a clap of his hands. “We’re cleaned up and ready to roll. I’ve sent my staff home and I’ll be shoving off here in a minute myself.”

  Nick nods. “Lock up on your way out.”

  “You got it, chief.” Gavin pivots to me and offers a slight bow. “My lady, a pleasure.”

  “Thank you, Gavin. Nice to meet you too.” I glance at Nick in question as our handsome personal chef strides out of the room, cutting the lights as he goes, and leaving us alone under the candle light. “They’re not going to serve the dessert?”

  “No,” Nick says, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “I am.”

  Chapter 10

  I watch, transfixed and anxious, as Nick slowly stands up, unfastening his tie. Draping it over the back of his chair where his jacket rests, he steps away from the table and walks toward me, casually rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up on his muscled forearms.

  “Don’t move, Avery.”

  Oh, God. I couldn’t if I tried. His voice is so deep with carnal command, it roots me to my seat.

  I’m not even certain I’m breathing as he approaches me on the other side of the table. He’s so tall and powerful, so darkly masculine, everything female inside me responds with eager, wanton invitation.

  “You look so beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, reaching down to cup my face in the cradle of his broad palm. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me not to send everyone away so I could touch you—so I could taste you—the way I’ve been dying to all damn night?”

  His words make me shiver. They make the warm, wet knot of yearning between my legs twist even hotter, even wetter. His fingers slide beneath my chin, traveling along my jaw line toward my ear as he moves behind me now. I close my eyes when his hands come to rest lightly on my shoulders. The heat of his body at my back radiates so intensely it’s a wonder I don’t melt right where I sit.

  “Jesus, these pearls,” he says, moving his hands down onto the swells of my breasts, then into the tender valley between them where the long strand is nestled. He leans down, so close to my ear that his voice vibrates through me. “I can’t see you in them without remembering how sexy yo
u looked with them roped around your wrists while I fucked you.”

  “Yes.” My words shudder out of me, my heart pounding rapidly. “That’s all I think of when I’m wearing them too.”

  My sex clenches at the memory of his cock buried deep within me and his finger delving into the tight channel of my ass until I came in wave after wave of violent pleasure. For as long as I live, I know I’ll never be able to see a string of pearls and not think of Nick and all of the dirty, wicked, delicious things we’ve done together.

  He reaches for them, gathering the strand in his fingers. The gems click and slide against one another, sending another erotic shiver through my body. He lifts the necklace off me, over my head.

  “Hands behind your back, baby.”

  As soon as I comply, I feel the cool pressure of the pearls being wrapped around my crossed wrists. He binds me just tight enough to hold my hands immobile without straining the delicate string of precious gems. I’m not going to test them. I’m not going to test him, because I know this is only the start of the pleasure he has in mind for me. With Nick, there is always more to come.

  Once I’m bound, he takes hold of my chair and drags me back from the table. He steps in front of me, looking at me with a combination of approval and hot lust in his eyes.

  “So beautiful.” His fingers skim tenderly beneath my jaw, tilting my face up. “What would you like to try first for dessert?”

  I watch as he reaches over to the cart and removes the polished dome lids from the bowls of ripe berries, decadent sauces, and a mound of fluffy whipped cream. I can’t possibly choose, and besides my only true temptation is the man who’s got me totally under his thrall.

  “Surprise me.”

  His black brows arch in mild amusement. “You told me once that you didn’t like surprises.”

  “I’m learning to like a lot of new things with you.”

  His mouth curves, and he leans down to reward me with a deep, unhurried kiss. I feel his body swiveling slightly as our lips and tongues tangle. He’s reached for something on the cart. I’m not sure what it is until he brings it up to our joined mouths and I inhale its sweet fragrance.