14. NICO
14
NICO
K ate rouses as I reach the Penthouse door. I set her down, and she leans against the wall, eyelids drooping. I press the keycard to the lock and push into the room.
The Penthouse is a vast suite, with a bed large enough to fit an entire family, and a separate sitting and dining room with glass windows all round.
I coax her inside.
“Wow,” she breathes, examining the suite, but she remains in the doorway, not moving beyond the threshold. “The penthouse? Fuck, Nico. Bold. Is there only one bed? How pres… presu… what’s the word?” she asks, waving a hand at me.
“Presumptuous?”
She clicks her fingers and points at me. Her head rocks, lolling this way and that like she can’t hold it straight. “Yes. That one.”
“I presume nothing. We’re not having sex.”
She frowns, one eye drooping shut a tad. “Then what are we doing here?”
Is she disappointed?
“You need to go to sleep,” I say. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
Her eyes narrow, like she’s trying to work something out, but she’s too drunk to do it. “You could take me home.”
“Sure. Where do you live?”
She screws her eyes closed and then her face goes totally blank. “Don’t remember. Clapham. South London. Number fifty… fifty-something.”
Who the fuck doesn’t remember where they live ?
I hold out my hand for the tiny handbag that’s slung over her shoulder. “Give it.”
She clutches it to her. “Why? You can’t look in my handbag. It’s private.”
I hum a laugh but retract my outstretched hand. “Driver’s license. Your address will be on it.”
She opens her bag and looks through it, frowns, then snaps it shut again. “It’s not there.” She gives a little shrug but doesn’t seem fazed at all that she’s lost it. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk, but part of me suspects she’s lying. “Guess I’d better stay after all.”
I affect my most disinterested nod. “It’s big enough.”
She nudges the door shut with her foot, then paces towards me. Her bare feet sink into the plush pile of the carpet. When she reaches me, she pokes her finger into my chest. “You stopped me from having sex tonight. That was the plan.” She gestures to her top. “I’m the green traffic light. Green means go .” I don’t know what she’s talking about, but the fact that she’s mentioning sex, even if it is in a drunken, aggressive tone, doesn’t strike me as a good thing. We’re alone in a hotel room, mere feet from a huge bed.
“Haven’t had sex for a long time,” she continues. Sex, again. “My pussy could be full of cobwebs.”
Pussy? “Cobwebs?” I ask, a smothered laugh escaping me, but Kate is so drunk she doesn’t notice.
“Michael Drayton, too,” she continues in a serious tone, albeit a little slurred. “You know what a big deal he is?”
Her words stoke the embers of my jealousy. I should’ve known she wouldn’t thank me for stepping in, but I didn’t expect this.
“He was taking advantage of you. He was sober and you can hardly stand up.”
She attempts to stand straighter to disprove my point, but fails miserably as her shoulders involuntarily slump and her spine curves.
“Who I have sex with is none of your business, Nico fucking Hawkston.” Her finger presses against my pec with each word of my name.
Before she can poke me again, I grab her wrist and she turns those big brown eyes up to meet mine. “You can thank me in the morning when you come to your senses.”
She snatches her arm from my grip. “Fuck you.” Then she stumbles into the bathroom and slams the door.
I wait outside, wondering if she’s drunk enough to throw up. The bathroom is silent, then water begins to run.
“Kate? Do you need any help?”
“Only if you want to get in the tub with me.”
She’s running a bath ?
“You can’t bathe now. You’re too drunk. You’ll drown in there.”
“Oh, fuck off, Nico,” she says, but her tone is soft. Softer still when she adds, “Go away. I don’t want you here. I hate you. I need to hate you.”
She needs to hate me ?
I press the door open slowly so she has time to object if she doesn’t want me coming in, but she says nothing. She’s sitting on the edge of the bath, fully clothed, her knees together. She turns off the bathwater and looks up at me through a curtain of dark hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “You’re not well.”
Scowling, she replies, “God, why do you have to be so…” Her words tail off as she waves a drunken hand at me.
I brace for her usual abuse. “So what?”
“So damn gorgeous.” She breathes the words like a secret, and a curious warmth fills my chest. I’ve lost count of how many times someone has complimented my appearance, but this one hits differently. I want to tell her she could have me if she wanted, or that she too is gorgeous, but instead I settle for staring at her.
There’s an innocence to her wide gaze that’s absent in sobriety, and I’m reminded of how she used to look at me back when she was a teenager. But I’m simultaneously saddened by the fact she’s so inebriated that her words and actions tonight mean very little. This isn’t a shared experience we’ll both remember. For Kate, this is a blackout she won’t recall.
I step towards her, the soles of my leather shoes creaking against the tile floor. “How did you get this drunk? Did you eat anything?”
She shakes her head. “I was working late. Remember? And then… free drinks.” She shrugs and drags a hand through her long, dark hair. Her fingers get stuck in the tangles and she glances up, catching sight of herself in the mirror. She dances her fingertips over her face as she stares at her reflection. “Shit,” she mutters. “I look horrendous.”
“You always look good.”
Her eyes flash at me before she looks away, her hand dropping from her face to the edge of the bath, fingers curling around it tightly. “I’m really not that drunk. I can only see one of you.” She closes one eye, which looks much harder to perform than it should. “I could definitely have sex like this.”
I don’t know if it’s an observation, a joke or a suggestion. I don’t want to think about it too hard, but the words alone are enough to have inappropriate images springing up in my mind.
I need to get out of here. If I have to hear Kate mention sex one more time, I’ll fucking lose it.
“You should go to bed,” I say, taking quick steps to the door. “Get some sleep.”
“Nico…” Her tone is sultry, if a little slurred, and she lets my name dangle like an invitation. A flare of warning, sweetened at the edges by temptation, burns in the pit of my stomach as I glance over my shoulder.
“Yes?”
She flutters her eyes. “You owe me.”
“Owe you what?”
“Sex.”
The word knocks my heart off beat.
“And alcohol makes me horny.”
I blink. What the fuck ? I must look confused because she adds, “Will you sleep with me?”
Before I can answer, she slides the little silky shorts down to the floor and kicks them aside, leaving her in only black underwear and the skimpy green top.
I can’t breathe. Toned legs, smooth skin, thighs slightly parted. My gaze runs up the length of them, coming to rest at the lace of her panties nestled at the top. I’m pretty sure I can see right through them.
My dick swells while every other part of me seizes. Her body is so fuckable. I want to bend her over the bath and pound into her until she screams my name.
I’ve known this woman her whole life, but she has never spoken to me like this. Never . Not even the incident in the hot tub comes close. Then, she was an insecure teenager who didn’t know the power of her body. But now… She fucking knows .
Kate reaches up to tease at the strap of her top, sliding it down her arm.
“Kate…” My voice tails off. I mean it as a warning, but clearly miss the mark because she smiles as she continues undressing.
My world shrinks to this one woman, this one moment. Her movement is painfully slow, or maybe it’s my distorted perception of time. But one thing I do know; in seconds her breasts are going to fall out, and if that happens I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I don’t trust myself to resist whatever’s coming next.
A host of thoughts crash through my mind. What if it wasn’t me standing here? What if it was someone else? Someone who would take advantage of how drunk and vulnerable she is right now?
How close was she to going home with someone else? Fucking someone else?
Fire scorches through me, blistering my insides, spreading tendrils of hot flames through my arms and legs. My grasp on my control is so slim that I make the only decision I can. The only one that won’t kill me in the morning.
I close the space between us, breathing hard as I tower over her. “Stop. Keep your fucking clothes on.” The words are harsh, the tone even more so.
Shock blooms in Kate’s eyes. Her shoulders curl in, her head lowers, hands cupping her nearly exposed breasts. She’s a vision of shame and humiliation and I’m so fucking sorry I’ve done it, but it’s better this than anything else.
I scan the room, grab a bathrobe from a hook on the back of the door, and give it to her. She awkwardly slips into it, tying it tight around herself while she keeps her gaze on the floor.
“Go to bed.” My voice is hard; I wish I could do this with kindness, but I can’t. It could slide too easily into something else, and I refuse to do that. Better she thinks I’m angry.
She walks out in front of me, heading towards the enormous emperor sized bed. She stops at the foot of it but doesn’t get in.
I’m right behind her when she says, “You should go.”
“Get into bed, Kate. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
She spins to face me, our bodies inches apart. “I’m safe. I’m fine. I can see myself to bed.” When I don’t move, she puts her hands on the belt of the dressing gown and begins to loosen it. “I’m going to take off all my clothes and go to sleep. Naked, Nico. I’m going to be naked. And seeing as that’s such a problem for you, you should fuck off.”
Her abrasive words smash my resolve and searing heat burns in my chest. I don’t know if it’s anger or desire, but Kate’s eyes flash with recognition.
I lean in and ghost my mouth against her ear. “What is it you want? To drive me to distraction so I’ll fuck you?”
Her lips part, hot breath hitting my jaw, causing a shiver to trip down my spine.
“Nico…”
The breathless way she says my name sounds like yes, but also like please don’t . I can’t decipher how she feels, and I remind myself how drunk she is. I draw back. “Fuck. Don’t answer that. Go to bed. Please, Kate. Go to bed.”
The plea hangs in the air like a poison we’re too afraid to inhale. Neither of us moves for longer than I care to count.
“Okay,” she whispers. Submissive. Her robe falls slightly open, revealing the curve of a breast beneath.
We share a few more tangled breaths as we come down from whatever fucking high we’re on.
“Are you going to stay?” She sounds insecure, and there is none of her earlier teasing lilt in the question.
I back up, taking a few steps away from her while I run a hand through my hair to calm the fuck down. “Yes. I’ll get you a bottle of water and some painkillers, then I’ll sleep in the other room. I’ll be there if you need me.”
“Okay.”
I walk towards the sitting room.
“Hey, Nico?”
I spin back to face her. “Yeah?”
“Are you going to take this”—she gestures to the enormous penthouse suite—“out of my pay?”
I bite my bottom lip, repressing a smile at the concern on her face. “No. This is all on me.”
I wake early the next morning, having slept in my suit on the sofa. My body aches all over and I’m not nearly as well rested as I would like to be. I stayed awake most of the night to make sure Kate didn’t throw up and choke on her own vomit.
I pad back into the bedroom. She’s sleeping quietly, her clothes lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.
Temptation twists in my chest at the idea she’s completely naked beneath the sheets. She’s so vulnerable. Anything could have happened last night.
I stare at her beautiful face, her tangled hair spread over the pillow. I’ve imagined seeing her like this so many times, but I had no idea that the sight would cause a crushing squeeze around my heart. She’s right here, and yet I can’t have her.
I take another bottle of water from the minibar, intending to replace the now empty one I put on her bedside table last night. She’ll have a terrible hangover when she wakes.
She rustles in the sheets, pulling an arm out of the covers. Her hand hangs over the edge of the bed, and something drops from her fingers, landing at my feet.
I bend to pick it up, but before I touch it, I know exactly what it is.
It’s her fucking driver’s license.