Chapter 20
Lucia
The sheets beneath me are smooth as silk, and the weighted blanket over us is satiny smooth. Through the window, snowflakes fall, twirling around playfully with a backdrop of evergreens.
The wood-burning fire gave out during the night, and Tristan flipped the switch on the gas fireplace. A long line of low orange and blue flames over shiny black glass warms the space, but the palpable warmth is from the furnace wrapped around me, one arm slung over my waist, holding me firmly in place.
At day’s end we’ll return to reality, but if I could wrap a segment of time and cherish it forever in a bottle, this is the morning I would fold in tissue paper and preserve.
To Tristan, this is a night’s escape from the city to a place he considers ho-hum. He’d prefer to stay at the Four Seasons, and this is a second-rate substitute. To him, we’re a step above slumming it. Of course, Tristan has no concept of what the slums are. If he returned with me to S?o Paulo, I could introduce him.
While he heated the dinner he’d had someone drop off for us, I walked around snapping photos on my phone. I sent them all to Khalani, knowing she’d be as floored by the place as me. He snagged my phone and read through my exchange with her. Instead of mocking me, he simply typed a response to Khalani.
Hi. This is Tristan. Any friend of Lucia’s is a friend of mine, and when you next visit, please let me know. If this property is available, I will gladly arrange for your stay.
Khalani responded appropriately, thanking him for the offer. I had feared she’d threaten him with his life if he hurt me, but she didn’t. While that would be typical behavior for Khalani, even she recognizes that what’s going on here is temporary. That we’re having fun and hearts aren’t in the mix. He’ll soon be in an executive position at the company, and with any luck, it will be my turn to land a new position elsewhere.
Soft lips press to my shoulder and I grin.
“It’s snowing.”
“Mmmm. What a delicious way to wake up.”
I’m not entirely sure he’s referring to the snow. His fingers caress my skin. Curve around my hip bone. At his sensual urging, I roll back closer, giving him easier access while feeling his desire against my lower back.
“Can we stay like this forever?”
“Nothing is forever.” His words might sting, but his lips soften the blow. “But I can promise you we have more mornings like this in our future.” He nips and bits my throat in the areas he’s learned arouse me. “Wrapped in each other.”
My heart is growing increasingly susceptible to this gentleman and his ways. This is temporary. A moment in time. If I repeat the truth frequently enough, my heart will believe it too.
Heat from his fingers encapsulates my sensitive, used tissues. He kneads and teases, taking his time, awakening my need as slowly and surely as the sun rises.
In the short time we’ve been together, he’s become an expert on my body, fingering me with a stunning precision that has me curling forward, legs bending, and muscles tightening as a lazy morning orgasm ignites.
He fondles my breasts, tweaking the nipples, sucking on them so thoroughly he might leave marks and I ambivalent over the prospect. The way I’m feeling on this luxurious morning, he can mark me however he likes.
I could melt into these sheets, lulled into secure self-indulgence. He rolls me on my side, cradles the bend of my leg in his arm, and, with a thrust of his hips, enters me.
My eyes close, lost in the exquisite sensations. Silk. Heat. Pressure. He slaps down over my sated bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts, re-igniting me. My body joins in, squeezing him, rocking against him.
“We.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Most definitely.” Thrust. “Waking.” Thrust. “Together.” Thrust. “Again.”
I can feel him thickening inside me. My body is on edge. Tight. Waiting to feel the pulsing sensation. So close to joining him.
And then he’s no longer in me and I’m flipped on my back. Perspiration coats his brow and chest. His jaw and neck are flushed. He reaches for the bedside, rips a condom open, rolls it on, and finds his place over me. Only this time, instead of my legs slung over his shoulders like last night, he spreads my thighs and covers my body with his. With each thrust, the pressure from gliding inside me massages my clit. If he weren’t trapping my thighs with his weight, I would wrap my legs around him and hold him as close as possible.
My fingers brush through his hair and eyes the color of the sea drown me. We move together as closely as two people can, in a dance with perfected choreography. I’m falling for him. I shouldn’t, but I am.
My fingers trace the lines of his back, the curve of his buttocks. My release takes me by surprise, brought over the edge by our movement, by the intimacy, by him. His back arches and he groans and his eyelashes flutter. He’s lost in the moment, out of control, and it’s breathtaking to see.
He collapses over me and I hold his sweaty form tight.
But as he regains his breath, he pushes up, smashes his lips noisily against mine, and says, “Stay here.”
He heads to the loo. I roll to my side and watch the snow as I listen to the sounds he makes. The flush. The sink. Bare feet thumping the tile and then the wood. The mattress sinks with his weight and I’m pulled against him.
“I’ll check the weather forecast. If another system is coming through, would you like to come back?”
Obviously, I want to come back. I want to live here.
If we make this regular thing, we’ll become careless. That’s what happens to criminals. To those breaking laws. You become lax. Believe you’re invulnerable. But there’s no such thing. To be human is to live in a constant state of vulnerability. The individual awareness of our precariousness varies amongst us, but the reality does not.
“We have to be careful. No one from work can know.”
“As often as you bring that up, you make me think you truly love working for Peltz the Putz.”
I snort. He’s not the first to apply that phrasing, but it’s funny hearing it from Tristan Wagner’s lips.
“He’s not that bad. He gives me room to grow. Responsibility.”
“You mean he offloads his work onto you?” His teeth sink into my shoulder playfully.
“He’s a good one to work for.” I might sound a tad defensive, but I’m being real. I’ve had a lot of bosses, and he’s a good one. Fair. Reasonable.
“Aren’t you looking to leave?”
“Only because I question if upward mobility is a realistic option.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
My fingers scrape the rough growth along his jaw. “I’m not Swiss. EU citizenship works, but if you watch who they promote, the promotions in the Geneva office are usually Swiss.”
“If you were to leave, where would you go?”
“I’ve applied to countless places. Mostly in France or Portugal. Some in Great Britain, but again, citizenship makes me a more challenging hire.”
“Have you considered applying for Swiss citizenship?”
“It’s expensive.”
“Graeme should have taken care of that for you years ago. You’ve been working there for how long?”
“Eight years.”
“When we get back, I can have a lawyer take care of it.”
“I’m not sure that’s what I want.” How wonderful it must be to live in his bubble where everything is solved with a phone call.
“And why is that? Is there something going on in the offices you don’t like or don’t want to be a part of?”
I smooth over his eyebrow with the pad of my thumb and lean forward and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “No. Silly. Where would you get an idea like that? I just…the position is feeling stagnant. My time there is…I suppose I’m ready for something new.”
“Not too soon, though, right?” His brow furrows, and I set about smoothing the creases.
I love you . It’s on the tip of my tongue, pushed forth from my unruly, heedless heart. “Well, I need someone to be receptive to my application, so I’d say not too soon is a safe bet.”
“If you have a change of heart, let me know.”