23. KATE
23
KATE
I haven’t heard from Nico for a week. I haven’t been able to focus on my work, and I’ve spent the days flipping violently between wanting to vomit and wanting to charge up to the twentieth floor to demand an explanation. So far, for the sake of my career, I’ve done neither.
There were always those rumours flying around that he never fucks the same woman twice. But we didn’t even have sex, and he’s already avoiding me. Maybe he regrets what happened last weekend. Or maybe it was so insignificant to him he’s moved on.
Neither thought is reassuring, and my stomach bubbles nervously.
Tonight is the Lansen welcome drinks on the rooftop bar of the Hawkston building. It’s a warm evening, so we’re all outside. Nico’s supposed to be here. I overheard his PA saying that he had a few things to attend to and would pop in later, but I’m already two glasses of prosecco down and there’s been no sign of him.
I try to focus on the view across the City of London: the enormous dome of St Paul’s; the huge concrete jungle of the Barbican Centre; even the Shard in the distance.
It’s spectacular, but none of it is enough to assuage my nerves. If Nico walks in right now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it.
A blonde graduate is lingering at my side. Teresa, I think her name is. She’s pretty and vivacious, with a smile that lights up her face.
She’s not unpleasant company either, but she’s been chewing my ear off about Nico for the past five minutes. “You know him, don’t you?” she asks, grabbing a handful of nuts from the table and stuffing them in her mouth. She continues talking without waiting for a response. “I saw him in reception yesterday. I’ve never seen a corporate man so… hot. He looks really young too. The rest of them are all old and half-bald with huge beer guts.” She pauses, glancing over at Jack. “Your brother is gorgeous too, but Nico's more my type. Is he single? Nico, I mean.”
“Umm…”
“I guess it wouldn’t matter if he was,” Teresa plows on. “He’s always got some gorgeous new woman on the go. I saw him in the Daily Mail today, pictured with that musician. You know, the one who chopped off all her hair and looks like a beautiful pixie?”
A sharp pain lances through my chest. “Amy Moritz? He was out with her?”
Teresa pulls out her phone. “Yeah. Last night. Look.” She flicks her screen to show me images of Amy, laughing as she gets into the back of a cab with Nico.
I’ve been pining for the bastard and he’s out with the music scene’s biggest solo star. I’m an idiot to have thought he might want me. To think that what happened between us was anything more than an impulsive explosion of decade-long repressed desire.
Nico wasn’t going to say no when I was standing outside his room in my underwear. Red underwear. Maybe not contacting me is his way of trying to tell me he’s not interested.
“And last month it was that runway model, the one with legs that reach to her armpits. Erica Lefroy.” Teresa laughs, oblivious to the effect her words are having on me. “It’s not like I have a chance, but a girl can dream, right? If he wanted an office fling, I wouldn’t say no.”
Maybe Nico’s not coming. He’s probably too busy. Can I even bear to face him again?
“Excuse me,” I say, putting down my drink and moving towards the exit. Teresa is so stuck on Nico I don’t think she cares who’s listening, and she turns away with a confused shrug, ready to prey on the next pair of ears.
I stride back inside. The glass door closes behind me, shutting out the sound of chatter. My heart is racing. Is it healthy to have an elevated heart rate for this long? Maybe I can skip the gym this weekend because my heart has already had a workout.
I’m a mess.
I storm down the corridor, intending to go home. I’m not waiting for some man who may or may not show his face. I don’t want to be like Teresa and the others, desperate for some glimmer of his attention.
But first I need to check out that story. I pull out my phone and put Nico’s name into the search bar. I add Amy Moritz for clarity. A dozen stories pop up, each with a variation of the picture Teresa just showed me.
Has Amy Moritz finally tamed the eternal bachelor, Nico Hawkston ?
Bachelor billionaire Nico Hawkston, spotted with the music industry’s brightest star.
Is Nico banging Amy?
Emotion whirls in my chest. My fingers are shaking as I scroll. I need to get out of here now, before I scream. I put my head down and hurry my steps towards the lift, slamming my hand on the button.
The lights above show it’s coming up.
The lift dings to signal its arrival, and the doors open.
And there he is.
Just him; no one else. My surroundings go mute as his presence consumes my senses. That unmistakable scent, which I swear must be made of pheromones, assaults my nostrils. No matter how pissed off I am, I’m unwillingly catapulted into a state of arousal.
He’s wearing a gorgeous navy suit. A pale blue silk tie hangs from his neck over a pressed white shirt. How he looks immaculate at the end of a workday, I do not know.
He tips his head to one side, full lips tilting into a close-mouthed smile. Dark eyes meet mine, shining with an irresistible mischief, as if I’m exactly the person he’s looking for. And whatever he’s thinking, it’s not PG. My chest tightens and blood surges to the lower half of my body.
He strokes a hand down the length of his tie, not taking his eyes off me. The doors begin to close and, calm as ever, he presses the button to hold them open. “Are you getting in?”
My heart splutters . Why does this feel so dangerous?
I glance over my shoulder. We’re completely alone.
“Aren’t you going to the drinks?” I ask.
“Not if you’re leaving.”
My mouth dries out, and perspiration gathers under my arms. What does that mean ?
Run. Take the stairs .
I probably ought to listen to my flight response, but my whole body is vibrating with Nico’s presence. I’m powerless to resist his pull.
I step inside and stand next to him as the doors close. The right side of my body is sparking at his nearness. The air is thick, charged with the promise of sex.
There’s no way he can’t feel it. In fact, I’m sure he’s creating it.
Another wave of arousal washes over me. He’s not even touching me and I’m drowning in it.
Nico presses the button for the twentieth floor, and the lift descends. The back of his other hand grazes mine. It’s a small point of contact, but I feel the burn of it everywhere; a tiny taste of what my body craves .
“I haven’t heard from you,” I say.
He looks down at me, his dark eyes full of heat. “Did you want to?” His tone is curious, but his voice level, as if my answer has no bearing on him.
How can he be so cool? My body temperature is skyrocketing.
I glance at the lit-up numbers shifting as we pass through the floors. How long do I have in here with him? What happens when we reach his floor?
“Are you going to answer me?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” I say, twisting to face him. “Are you dating Amy Moritz?”
His brow creases. “Amy? No. She’s a friend. Seb wants her to sing at his birthday next year.” His gaze intensifies. “Are you keeping tabs on me?” He sounds amused. Delighted, even, which is annoying, to say the least.
“I am not ‘keeping tabs on you.’ One of the graduates showed me an article. What about Erica Lefroy? The model?”
I need to stop talking. I’m giving myself away.
“We went on a few dates a couple of years ago, but there was no chemistry. She’s a friend too.” He arches a brow. “I’m single. Unattached. Is that what you want to know?”
I cross my arms, determined to say nothing else, but a moment later I find myself asking, “Why didn’t you get in touch? You had my number.”
“And you had mine, but you didn’t use it. I thought you might regret what happened, and I didn’t want to pressure you.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re putting a gentlemanly spin on shitty behaviour.”
He chuckles, and annoyance flares inside me. The last thing I want him to do right now is laugh at me.
I opt for a direct question. “The shoes. Why did you buy them for me?”
All signs of amusement vanish from his face. He inhales, blows out the exhale, and waits so long to respond that I wonder if he heard me. Then his eyes take on that same look from last week when he asked me to touch myself, and I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
“Why did you draw me so many times?”
The air between us crackles and static buzzes on every exposed inch of my skin. We turn to face one another like we share a centre of gravity, the inches between us shrinking until I can feel the heat of him through my shirt.
Nico lifts his hand, and I hold my breath as he reaches towards me. He rests his fingers on my neck, his thumb strumming over the dip between my collarbones. “God, Kate. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”
His words increase my aching need, and I tip my head back on a sigh, giving him more access. He leans towards me, his lips almost touching mine. The possibility of kissing him is excruciating.
“If we do this, there’s no going back.” His voice is hoarse with desire so palpable I feel it in between my legs.
“Do what?” I ask breathlessly.
“If I kiss you, taste you… fuck you, we can’t undo it. Is that what you want?” He runs his lips along my jaw, lightly kissing the skin. “I need to know it’s what you want.”
My breathing is all over the place; my body throbbing. Every sense is heightened to excruciating precision, and when he brushes his lips to my throat, a small whimper escapes me.
He makes a low murmur of appreciation that thrums all the way to my toes. He nips my neck with his teeth, sending a jolt of energy right to my clit.
“Is it what you want?” he repeats. He grips my hip and pulls me closer until there’s barely an inch between us. The thick length of his cock presses against me. He’s as turned on as I am .
“Answer me.”
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes.
But not a word of willing escapes me as my blood runs thin and fast in my veins, panic roaring through the cloud of lust that fogs my brain. Thoughts cascade, an avalanche that chills me; he didn’t call for a week, Amy Moritz, my dad, the deal, Erica Lefroy…
“No.”
Nico jerks backwards like my words have scalded him. He touches the tips of his fingers to his lips, his eyes roving back and forth across my face, like he’s trying to find some explanation hidden in my expression.
“No?” Disbelief spreads like ice through his tone. He tugs on the tie knot at his neck, and his expression hardens. He jams his finger on the button for the sixth floor. “Then you should leave.”
“What?”
“I can’t have you in here right now. I can't bear another moment in your presence if I can't touch you. I’m not playing games. I won’t do it. If you don’t want anything to happen between us, then you need to go. Now.” Neat, hard muscles stand out along his beautiful jaw. There’s a darkness in his eyes that flares, barely controlled.
What happens if I don’t leave? What happens if I tip Nico Hawkston over the edge?
The lift dings to alert us to our arrival on the twentieth floor. The doors open and, with one final dark-eyed questioning look at me, Nico steps out and marches down the corridor towards his office without a backward glance.
The doors stay open, gaping like the gates of hell. The office beyond is quiet and the lights are low.
No one’s here.
The lift doors begin to close, and against my better judgment, I stick my hand out to stop them and slide through the gap. This is the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, but I’m so turned on, so wound up, that it’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
Every reservation, every hesitation, every single reason not to, has been blown clear out of my mind by the absolute certainty that I can’t let this man walk away.
I don’t give myself a moment to second guess it. If I stop, I’ll never be able to come back.
My heels click down the corridor, my breaths echoing in the silence.
I reach his office, my hand resting on the handle for less than a second before I push the door open.
Nico has his back to me, hands braced on the desk. His broad shoulders look tense, his head lowered between them.
Beyond him, the London skyline sparkles with lights. There might be millions of people out there, but right now, he’s the only one who matters.
“Don’t come in here,” he warns. “I swear, if you step inside this office, I will not be held responsible—”
I kick the door closed behind me, cutting him off. He jerks his head up and his whole body stiffens.
The tension is so thick I can physically feel it. Even the palms of my hands are tingling.
Nico straightens, standing to his full height. Slowly, he turns to face me. His chest rises and falls as he fixes me with a dark gaze, equal parts resentment and desire; a toxic infusion that I can’t resist. His hand finds the knot of his tie, loosening it before he undoes the top button of his shirt. “Lock it.”
God, his voice. So deep and commanding.
I turn around to lock the door and the air between us prickles against my back, the pressure of him forcing the breath from my lungs. Nico’s footsteps approach and he stops directly behind me, planting his feet on either side of mine. My heart beats out of control as one of his hands hits the door with a thump, fingers splayed to the left side of my head. Tendons and veins stand out like ribbons under his skin.
With his other hand, he shifts my ponytail and drapes it over my shoulder. The warmth of his breath hits my exposed nape and a shiver trips down my spine.
“I’m going to ask you one more time.” His voice rumbles against my ear. “Do you want this?”
I gulp as I nod.
“Say it.”
“Yes.”
He kisses the back of my neck, a smile in his voice as he murmurs, “I always knew you were a good girl.”
My breath hitches as his praise spills through me like melted butter, the heat of it trickling down to my core. His free hand skims the waistband of my skirt, his fingers sliding along it all the way to my navel, but rather than dip beneath it, he grips my hip and spins me to face him. My body is utterly pliant to his will.
He’s right; there’s no going back from this. Whatever happens from here, I’m forever changed. Even if this, right now, is as far as it goes between us, every cell in my being has been shaken awake, shaken alive , by him.
He closes his eyes, and his muttered ‘ fuck ,’ rasps like a blade on a whetstone.
His mouth crashes against mine; warm and wet and sending spirals of heat dancing through my entire body. He’s kissing me, he’s kissing me , are the last thoughts that race through my mind before the intensity of his kiss destroys my ability to think. His tongue slides between my lips, and each sensuous swipe dominates my mouth like he’s trying to force a complete surrender. The man kisses like a master, and need surges through me with dizzying force.
My hands find his shoulders and tug at his jacket, but I can’t shift it. Panting heavily, Nico breaks our kiss to shrug it off himself. He drops it to the floor, releasing a fresh wave of his glorious, masculine cologne mixed with something else that’s indescribably Nico.
His eyes find mine and he smiles, bites his bottom lip, and tilts his head at me as if to say, fuck, yes. Let’s do this .
He kisses me again, a little more gently this time, like he’s savouring me rather than devouring me. He slides his hands around my hips, lifting me up, and my skirt rises to my waist as I wrap my legs around him.
His erection presses against the hot centre of my arousal and I grind against him, desperately seeking friction. He growls against the side of my neck, his fingers digging into my flesh.
My shoes fall to the floor along with my inhibitions as he carries me to the sofa, sits me down on the edge, and kneels before me. His eyes blaze like a man possessed.
Hooking his fingertips into the fabric at my hips, he urges my underwear down. I rise just enough for him to slide my panties off and throw them to the floor.
“Spread your legs. I want to see you.”
A bolt of electricity blasts through me, and I bite my lip to contain a moan. Powerless to resist him, I part my legs and bring my bare heels up to the edge of the sofa. My knees fall open, exposing me to him entirely.
He leans forward, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he eyes my exposed pussy, and my brain short circuits. I’ve never been inspected this way; no man has ever paid such close attention to such an intimate part of me. And now, of all the men in the world, it’s Nico fucking Hawkston between my legs, staring at my cunt like he wants to devour it as his last fucking meal.
Self-consciousness shoots through me, and my thighs seek to lock him out, muscles contracting as I try to clamp them together. A warm palm grips my thigh, holding them apart, and Nico’s concerned gaze meets my own.
“You okay?” he says softly.
No. Maybe. I have no idea. “Uh... what are you doing?”
He quirks a brow, then slowly grins. “Checking for cobwebs.”
My hand flies to cover my eyes as my drunken words from the hotel come back to me. My pussy could be full of cobwebs . “Oh God,” I wail, peeking at him between my fingers. “I’m never drinking again.”
He dips his head, a low chuckle escaping him. He’s gorgeous like this. When he raises his eyes to mine, his amusement fades, replaced with a kindness that simmers with heat.
“You’re perfect. Relax.” His thumb gently strokes my inner thigh. “I’ve got you.”
His sincerity eases my body’s tension, and I let my hand fall from my face. My legs soften, allowing Nico to manoeuvre me so he can nestle between them.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, kissing the inside of my knee, trailing his lips up my thigh. “I’ve waited so long for this.”
How long? Before I have time to wonder, he blows out a breath that cools my wet pussy. It has me squirming against the leather and a satisfied smile pulls at one side of his lips as he drags his gaze to meet mine. He rises on his knees and cups the back of my neck, drawing me into a passionate kiss that steals the air from my lungs.
His other hand trails down my body like a comet, burning up everything in its wake, until his entire palm, hot and tantalising, rests between my thighs. I arch my back, my clit desperately seeking the friction that’s just out of reach.
“So eager.” Delight dances in his eyes as he slides one finger over my clit, applying a gentle pressure, but his touch is gone before it can provide any sort of relief. The quick jolt of intense pleasure that fires through me isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
His finger continues a path to my entrance and traces it lightly.
“Please,” I beg, my body bowing off the sofa, my pussy seeking more .
“So fucking wet,” he murmurs, as he drags his mouth across my jaw before nipping down on my bottom lip with his teeth. “I wanted to feel this last weekend. Wanted to do this—”
I gasp as he thrusts a finger inside me, the heel of his hand resting over my clit. He slides a second finger in, curling them, hitting that sweet spot inside with a precision that triggers a deep, insatiable roll of pleasure. I shudder, lowing deliriously.
“Jesus, Kate.”
He thrusts his fingers deeper, and I tighten around him as he fucks me with them. Pressure builds between my legs, and I writhe against his palm, chasing the release of the orgasm I so desperately need.
He drags his fingers out, pulling my slickness over my clit, teasing it with his fingertips. Sparks erupt, tingling through my body as he slides his fingers inside me again, burying them knuckle deep. His thumb finds my clit, circling it over and over, faster and faster.
The sound of his fingers fucking me fills the office and I fist my hands against the sofa as I take the pleasure he’s giving me.
I throw my head back as I grind against his hand like a wild animal, seeking the final bit of pressure that will tip me over the edge. Pleasure spreads from my clit, down my thighs, all the way to my toes.
My body jerks and shudders, and I moan as I pump my hips. He works me perfectly, teasing every tendril of desire into one potent point that throbs between my legs. It’s more than I can bear.
My muscles go rigid, my hands desperately clenching. “Nico… fuck, Nico,” I cry, repeating his name like it’s the only word in the world that matters.
“So fucking hot,” he praises.
I teeter on the edge, unbearably close.
“Come for me. I want to hear you scream,” he commands, and my orgasm explodes. I’m lost to the sensations that flood my body. I scream in stuttering gasps, trembling and shaking against him as the force of my pleasure rips through me. It lasts longer than I’ve ever experienced, surging in dwindling peaks of jerking ecstasy as he continues to stroke my swollen clit.
When the last remnants of pleasure have calmed, my thighs collapse inward, resting against Nico’s shoulders. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth, where he sucks them and lets out a sigh of satisfaction. “Wanted to do that, too.” His voice is thick with desire.
He leans down between my legs and kisses my clit, which is so sensitive I jerk back, and in response he chases it, sucking it into his mouth.
“Stop, God, stop,” I cry, grabbing his hair with both fists to pull him off me. He relents with a rumbling chuckle that vibrates through my tailbone.
“You taste divine,” he says. “Next time, I’ll make you come with my mouth.”
I moan at the thought of it. I can’t wait.
I sit forward, sliding my hand between his legs, cupping the erection that feels far bigger than any I’ve ever touched before. Not that there have been many, but his cock is far and beyond the largest.
“Let me see you,” I whisper, fumbling with his trousers.
He undoes the button, lowers the zip, and his cock pokes out of his boxers.
I inhale sharply. “Wow.”
Nico smirks, and no wonder. It isn’t even fully exposed and it looks huge. How will it fit inside me? I slide my hand into his underwear, wrapping my fingers around the base. It’s warm and smooth, the rigidity cloaked in soft skin... It’s perfect. Nico Hawkston has a perfect penis and an insane desire to slide right onto it rolls through me.
He hisses through his teeth as I draw my hand up the hard length of him.
A sharp knock on the door shocks us both and we turn to stare. My hand rockets off his cock as someone on the other side rattles the door handle. “Uncle Nico? Are you in there?”
Nico’s face contorts, and he lets out a groan, fisting a hand into his hair and tugging it from the roots. “I’m gonna have the bluest balls in the whole of fucking London at this rate.”
I can’t help but giggle, especially as I’m still blissed out after the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my entire life. Nico stands and tucks himself in.
The knocking continues.
“It’s Charlie,” comes the voice from outside the office. “I’m ready to go home. I’m tired. I know you’re in there. I can hear you.”
I look up, alarmed, and mouth, “He can hear us?”
Nico shrugs and holds out his hand and pulls me off the sofa to my feet. “If this is what it’s like to have kids, I’m getting a vasectomy.”
I press my lips together to contain a burst of nervous laughter.
He tugs me flush against him, kissing me hard on the mouth, then holds me at arm’s length before letting go and checking the time on his watch. “Shit, it’s late. I forgot about Charlie. He’s staying with me for a bit.”
“Doesn’t his mum live in London?”
Nico frantically tucks in his shirt, adjusts the crotch of his suit. “Yes.” He doesn’t explain and I don’t ask. He runs his hands around the waistband of his trousers. “I need to take him home. I’m so sorry to ask, but could you… hide?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Get under the desk. Please.” He’s moving about the room now, picking up his jacket and sliding it on, buttoning his collar and fixing his tie around his neck.
He picks up my underwear, offers it to me, then changes his mind, grins and slides it into his pocket.
I reach out for it. “Hey.”
“Oh, come on,” he says, pointing at his dick, which is still hard and trapped in the crotch of his trousers. “Let me have something.”
I roll my lips to stop myself from breaking into a full smile. He’s hard for me .
“Fine,” I huff, faking reluctance.
Charlie thumps on the door again, and Nico shoots a look towards the noise.
“I’ll open the door, but I won’t let him in. Wait until we’ve gone, then call yourself a cab. Put it through expenses. I’m really, really sorry.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “But my dick is even sorrier.”
“Are you there? Can you hear me?” Charlie’s voice penetrates the room.
“I’m here,” Nico answers, his tone sharp.
A tentative pause. Then, quieter, “Can we go home?”
“Go,” Nico mouths, shooing me towards the desk with one hand. I roll my eyes and get on my knees, crawling beneath the desk, tucking my legs in. Nico follows, crouching so I can see him, one hand on the desktop above. My breath catches at the sight of him staring at me, so excruciatingly handsome.
“Next time, you’re going to do that naked.”
“You wish,” I say, half-laughing.
“Oh, I do. And you will.” He grins, gives me a wink, and rises to his full height.
“Nico, wait.” I keep my voice low.
He crouches again. “What?”
“Am I going to have to wait another week to see you again?” I cringe at the desperation in my voice, but his smile is so warm that it instantly allays all my fears.
“You think I could stay away from you that long? What are you doing tomorrow?”
Tomorrow? “Nothing.”
“I’ll pick you up at ten. Pack an overnight bag and bring your passport.”
My passport?
He doesn’t wait for agreement before he stands again. I can only see his feet and lower legs. He approaches the door, kicks my shoes out of sight and then pulls it open.
“Charlie. Let’s go.”
I wait until I can no longer hear them before I crawl out from under the desk and brush myself down. What the hell just happened here? And what do I pack for a night away with Nico Hawkston?