Chapter 50
fifty
Pinchao
I have a surprise for you, bijou.
Well.
Two surprises.
Juliet
Is one of them your cock?
Pinchao
So just one surprise, then.
I spend the entire subway ride to the Lower East Side imagining what my surprise might be—and most of my musings do not involve clothes.
But alas, when I finally burst into his apartment, Graham is most assuredly still dressed. Today’s ensemble makes me shake my head the moment I see it.
“ Pinchao ,” I moan, eyeing the stark blazer and its black velvet trim. “These suits .”
He pauses in the middle of uncorking a bottle of wine to trail his gaze down my simple blue sheath. Amusement gilds his handsome features when our eyes meet. “This one?” he asks, holding his arms in front of him. “It’s not even colorful.”
True, apart from his red tie… and the handkerchief. “But a white jacket? In February? Isn’t there some sort of rule about white before Memorial Day?”
“Easter,” he corrects automatically, then cracks a sideways smile. “And this isn’t white , baby, it’s winter white. Entirely different thing.”
Scoffing, I set my bags on one of his barstools and notice something boiling on the stove behind him. In a separate pan, I spot some pancetta. “Did you make dinner?”
Graham brings a glass of wine to me, bending to brush his lips over my temple. “Working on it.” He nuzzles my hair and gives a low, contented sound. “Come here for a second.”
His arms pull me close for a slow, chaste kiss. Then another and another after that. He slides his hands to their usual places—one behind my head and the other cradling the curve of my ass.
“You always hold me there and there,” I mumble against his mouth, pushing back into his palms.
His lips smile against mine. “My two favorite things. Your gorgeous ass and your brilliant brain. What more do I need?”
Warmth bleeds through my chest, melting to form a puddle in my panties. Too soon, he leans away. A small smile touches his lips as he gazes at me, dark eyes transparently adoring. “I missed you today.”
Joy shimmers in my chest, along with a wash of chagrin. He’s so much better at this whole relationship thing than me. I wonder how many times he’s done it before.
“Me, too,” I confess. Tracing one of his thick brows with my fingertip, I decide to try for a compliment. “You look very sexy in winter white .”
He snuggles me closer, grinning. “You’re very sexy, always. Do you want your surprise now or after I’ve subdued you with pasta and sex?”
Have I ever been so happy ? I can’t think of any other occasion when I felt too ecstatic to catch my breath. And all over what? Tortellini?
To distract myself from the concerning bent of my thoughts, I slip my hand between our bodies and glide it down to his fly. “I don’t know,” I murmur. “I’m pretty hungry.”
We don’t make it to his bedroom. Graham takes me on the dining table instead, sweeping his papers onto the floor before setting me on the polished wood and yanking my panties down to one ankle. Our clothes hang off us—my dress unzipped and pulled over one arm to give access to my breasts, his pants bunched down his thighs and vest gaping.
When we both fall over the edge, one of our poignant silences settles between us. Wordlessly, Graham gathers me up in his arms and carries me into his bathroom. He removes the rest of my work clothes and cleans both of us up before retrieving a robe from his closet.
A women’s robe with tags still on it.
I finger the silky violet kimono, my gaze questioning as it meets his. Instead of answering, he kisses me deeply one last time and nuzzles his nose into my hair for a long moment. After a couple of deep breaths, he leaves me sitting on his black marble sink, naked, holding what I assume must be my surprise.
I don’t like him buying me things, but this is too beautiful to reject. So I put it on and turn to see my reflection.
Sweeping my hair into a haphazard ponytail, I stare at my face, startled by the expression I find beaming back at me. Bright eyes, a glow tinging my cheekbones, some unfamiliar softness around my mouth…
Maybe that’s why, an hour later, when he pulls me into his closet and presents me with my actual surprise, I manage not to faint.
Instead, I snap, “Absolutely not .”
Graham crosses his arms and shrugs, unbothered. “Yeah, I figured this would be a fight. Glad I got laid first.”
I guffaw. “Because you know this is insane !” I shout, spinning away before I get sucked into the beauty of the various outfits hanging on a recently cleared corner rack. “And insulting . Is there something wrong with my clothes? You seem to like them well enough when you’re taking them off!”
He raises one winged brow. “Are you finished?”
No—because the anger feels good . Like relief , somehow. The antidote to this new, soft side of me that makes no sense.
So I go on. “If I wanted new clothes, I’d go buy some! I may not have a penthouse in Manhattan, but I’m hardly destitute . I don’t need your hand-outs, Graham.”
His jaw hardens. He waits for me to stop panting and then asks, “Is it my turn to speak? Good. I didn’t buy these clothes because I thought you needed me to—I bought them because I wanted them here . I don’t want you to keep shoving flats and spare underwear into your purse every day. Especially when you work uptown. Staying over would cut your commute in half.”
Damn him. I hate it when he makes sense.
And part of me doesn’t quite believe he dropped thousands on clothes for pragmatism’s sake. “So this is a practical decision?”
He regards me steadily. “Purely.”
It’s a lie. One he might even believe. But I know better.
I glance at the rack now dedicated to me. My heart gives a stupid pang that I dismiss. Of course I don’t care if his gift is more sensible than romantic. I don’t want him to want me in his space.
Do I?
My hand floats up to touch the long-sleeved emerald dress closest to me. It’s gorgeous. They all are. And secretly, I’m thrilled that he personally chose each and every thing. For me.
I think of how Grayson sent Ella to a personal shopper and almost laugh. Not my pinchao . He wanted to select every last item, down to my underwear.
As if on cue, he points his chin at the built-in drawers beside my rack. “Third drawer. I got undergarments, too. And stuff for you to sleep in. Oh, and some shoes. Just three pairs.”
My teeth grind together. “Graham.”
His posture unwinds. He lopes over, boxing me in against the closet’s wall with both hands on either side of my head. “They’re just clothes . Having stuff here will take packing off your plate and give us more time together.”
I glance over again. A particularly fetching periwinkle blouse catches my eye. I sigh, defeated. “How much? I’ll write you a check.”
His gaze sharpens. “Like hell you will.”
Embers smolder in my middle. “You know, sometimes, I just want to slap you. Again.”
Lust glows in his black eyes. “I’d love to show you how I wanted to react that day. I very nearly slammed you into the wall of the elevator and ripped your goddamned dress off.”
I remember the unfathomable way he stared at me. Feral . He has the same wild energy to him now.
“You’re an animal,” I spit, glaring and gripping the wall behind me to keep from swinging at him. “No wonder I hated you so much.”
Graham leans his face closer, black gaze burning into mine. His voice is deceptively soft. “How much?”
My restraint snaps. I clutch his hair in both hands and yank hard, bringing our mouths together.
Not enough.