13
I’m not sure where my modesty went. Maybe Nick sucked it out of me back in his bedroom, but in any event, I’m unconcerned with my lack of clothing as I wander through his elegant penthouse looking for him. There’s something deliciously daring about walking around completely naked. All those heavy silk drapes are firmly closed, by the way, and I know Nick is too much of a recluse to have live-in help. Or they do live-in, but on another floor and he’s too nice to bother anyone after dinner is cleared away.
The soft blue glare of a computer screen leaks into the hallway and clues me in to his presence. He’s seated behind his massive desk, looking serious. I pad into the room, finally catching his attention when I round the corner of his desk. His face moves through raised eyebrows, presumably regarding my lack of attire to questioning. Again, I’m assuming that has to do with why I’m interrupting. I opt for silent communication as well. Merely smiling at him and then crawling into his lap.
I make myself comfortable, straddling his thighs and turning my cheek into his chest. One massive hand comes down awkwardly to touch my back and then under my butt to hold me in place.
“Candace?” he finally asks, with a slight touch of resignation in his voice. I peer up at him.
“What’s the matter now?”
He rests his chin on my hair. “Maybe you should head back to Kansas, little one. I’ll arrange for some help for you.”
“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” I inquire as levelly as I can manage. I’m missing something. His body is telling me it’s not disinterest on his part.
“I… I can’t picture you as anything but a mother someday.”
“Okaaay… and?” I have to prod him clearly, or we’ll be here all night.
“Obviously I’m not able to give you that, and I won’t sit back and see you grow bitter with disappointment.”
Oh, I’m starting to see the forest he’s wandered into. Men’s logic sometimes confounds me. I push back with my hands against his chest until he lifts his chin, then I reach up and grab both his ears. His eyes widen slightly.
“Listen here, Mr. Beast of New York. I love you. Full stop. With or without kids. I’d take you and nobody but you for the rest of my life, and I thought I made that clear.”
Nick opens his mouth to speak, but I make that face at him with a warning grimace. “No buts. And I can tell you’re eating yourself up inside because you don’t want to send me away. You’re just being noble. And stupid.”
I sense his resistance wavering, so I take a wild but calculated stab in the dark. “And I think I know more about DNA results than you do and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t completely understand what was in that report.”
That sets him back. “What do you mean?” he asks slowly.
“Did you notice that all the manipulated bits were in the mitochondria?”
“Err.” He looks sheepish, so I’ll take that as he didn’t.
“Mitochondrial DNA can only be inherited from the mother, Nick. Our kids, if we have them, get mine and only mine, God help them.”
I can feel his body instantly tense against me. He reaches out a long arm and pulls open a drawer. No big surprise, he’d already stashed a copy of the report nearby. “Show me.”
Pointing out the relevant bits, it’s obvious he’s afraid to believe me. So I pull up some basic but solid websites that explain it and then go over the report again with him.
Then he slides me up his body until I’m being kissed within an inch of my life. “My brainy little mouse,” he boasts with pride.
I blink at him and the sudden shift in his mood. “Feel better?”
He gives me his usual condescending look, but I’m so glad to have him close to normal, I beam right back at him. Dark eyes smile down at me, warming my chilled skin. “You have five minutes to come to your senses. If you’re still here at quarter to, I’m keeping you forever and not letting you go, no matter what anybody says.” His arms tighten around me, giving me the impression that I’d have to make an effort to get away, like I’d want to. But there’s a desperate tinge in his voice that he’s doing a damn good job of hiding that tells me he’s afraid to hope.
Nick’s face stays serious, so instead of arguing, I simply wrap my arms around his waist and hang on tight. But I do turn my head a little so I can anxiously watch the tiny clock on his computer. When it ticks over to the quarter hour, I let out a happy sigh of relief. “Does this mean I don’t have to wait out the rest of the six weeks?” I inquire plaintively.
He considers that for a brief moment. “Compound interest has its place, but not with you. Not now. Sometimes it’s more important to work directly with the capital.”
I give him the same look he gave me when I was explaining the DNA.
He sighs again and pats my bare ass with fondness. “Don’t worry about it. But I do have a plan to make this… important, for lack of a better word. Did you leave any of your clothes behind at the other apartment?”
I scrunch up my face at the question. “Just the few Sunday dinner outfits. I didn’t think they’d be needed in Kansas.”
“Perfect. Go put on something temporary while I order dinner to be delivered.”
I’m so confused. “Temporary? What does that mean?”
“It means my inquisitive little mouse, something that won’t get either of us arrested during the drive over there. Now scoot.”
Since I’m making no moves to detach myself, he does it for me, setting me gently on my feet before standing up. He makes shooing motions with his hands so reluctantly I turn around. I guess I should shower? So confused.
Showering gets the grunge off and wakes my brain up again. At least a little. Nick was talking about my apartment and my conservative Sunday dinner dresses. And dinner and driving. It’s not Sunday, so falling back into the old routine is out, thank God. I shrug and get dressed in some simple no-name jeans and a t-shirt. When I emerge from Nick’s amazing closet, he’s sitting on the bed waiting. His eyes sweep over me, and a small smirk teases his lips. “Ready?”
“I could answer that better if I knew what you had planned,” I point out with a pout.
“You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” He smiles, a genuine smile not hiding anything behind it, and I stare. I didn’t know that was ever going to be possible. I rush over to him and hug his head.
Nick’s arms come up around me and his words are mostly muffled by my breasts when he speaks, “Mouse? Everything okay?”
I pull back with a teary laugh so he can breathe. “Yeah, I’ve just never seen you smile like that. It’s nice. So if whatever you have planned can make that happen, then I guess I’m ready.”
“Come on, then.” Nick stands and tugs me out of the bedroom.
Before long, we’re driving through the city in his sleek black car. Not the one he rented in Kansas, this is his custom-built something or other. I guess he knows the designer and got the sports car engine in a body that he can fit in without folding like a pretzel. Whatever it is, it suits him and I ride in silence, watching him and his hands, while wondering what plan he cooked up in less than five minutes.
Nick reaches over and finds my hand. Drawing it up to his lips, he places a soft kiss on my palm. “Thank you, little mouse,” he says in his low, gravelly voice that has my insides thrumming.
“For what?” I’m confused again.
“For being stubborn, I think.” He grins briefly, and it’s a sight to behold when his face lights up.
“Time for your reward,” he says casually, apparently continuing his thought from earlier as we pull into the underground garage near the building I used to live in.
Even though I’m with Nick and I know nothing bad will happen, my nerves start to jump as we get in the elevator that leads only to that apartment. When the doors open again, it’s eery being back here. The lights are on and there are takeout containers stacked on the credenza in the hallway. I guess that’s dinner. I start to pick them up to take them inside the apartment, but Nick shakes his head. He unlocks the door with his key and immediately veers left towards my old bedroom. One of his spies must have told him what room I was using.
He flips on the light and pauses slightly at the sight of the completely different decor. But he doesn’t say a word, just stalks over to the walk-in closet and starts flicking through the handful of things on the rack that I left behind. He pauses briefly on a little black dress before continuing. Finally, he pulls a structured sapphire blue silk dress off the rack. “I can still see this one in my dreams,” he mutters before handing it to me. “Go change into this while I get dinner ready. And Candace?” he waits until he has my full attention. “No underwear. Or there will be consequences later.” He smirks again before walking out abruptly and without a backwards glance. I stare down at the dress. It’s a beautiful color and very la-di-da ladies that lunch. Not seductive at all. Then I remember his instructions. No underwear? Any? He wants me to put it on without a bra, too? Well, since he didn’t say and I aim to please… I regard myself holding the dress in the closet mirror and find I have a wicked smile on my face. Nobody else is going to see it so…
The dress slides against my bare skin, the slightly stiff silk reminding me with every motion that there’s nothing else underneath. I swiftly twist my hair up and pinch my cheeks. None of my makeup or jewelry is here. Except… I check the nightstand drawer. My wedding ring is gone, so Nick must have had someone retrieve it when I mentioned it was here. I straighten and shut the drawer. That’s okay — I want him to put it back on my finger when he’s ready — when he knows with all his heart that I’m here for him. I don’t think I’ll have too long to wait. I hope.
There aren’t any shoes to go with this dress, so I pad down the hall barefoot, wondering what I’m about to experience. Nothing too kinky apparently as Nick is standing, waiting for me to sit down so he can push my chair in. The perfect gentleman, as always. I eye him speculatively as I slide into the elaborate armchair at the foot of the table. Out of habit, I place the linen napkin over my lap as Nick makes his way to the opposite end of the long stretch of mahogany.
He uncovers a plate and brings it back — I guess that answers the food question. I don’t recognize the dish, but it’s all encased in flaky pastry, so I’m bound to like it. Nick returns to his seat and a similar plate, although his is piled higher.
“We will re-enact our Sunday evening torture session, but with a very different ending this time, my Candace. So eat. You will need your strength for later.”
That’s all I get. Very elegantly, Nick sections his pastry with his knife and brings them to his mouth with a fork. When I try to imitate that, flakes go everywhere, particularly down my cleavage. I’m eyeing them with misgiving, wondering if I should try to fish them out before they start to itch when I glance up to see Nick watching me. Despite the food he’s eating, he looks very hungry indeed. I spear a messy bite and put it in my mouth.
Truthfully, I’m too full of anticipation to eat. And then the fidgeting takes over. Nick glances down the table at me with amusement. “You’re remarkably quiet tonight, Candace,” he remarks idly before taking a sip from his water glass.
“I’m too busy trying to figure out what you’re thinking, Mr. Savage,” I mutter under my breath, but he must have heard me because his eyes twinkle harder. He pushes back his plate.
“If you’re done eating, then come here.” He waits patiently as I nervously stand and circle the table. This is finally something new in our old routine.
“Are you very wet, Candace? Were you busy down there thinking unladylike thoughts?”
I grin at that, and nod sassily. I watch Nick bite back a smile. “Use your words, Candace,” he admonishes me softly.
“Yes, Mr. Savage,” I answer cheekily.
“Answer the question then, are your thighs wet?” His voice has gone stern.
“Yes, Mr. Savage.”
“Show me,” he orders.
I gape at him. He makes a twirling motion with his finger that I interpret to mean he wants me to lift my skirt. So I do. A broad finger swipes across the soft skin of my inner thigh as soon as it’s revealed. I shiver and I can feel my pussy flooding in anticipation. Nick smirks. He lifts his finger to his nose and gives me a wickedly knowing smile. He reaches for my thigh again, tracing a little design ever closer to my now aching pussy. I gulp, waiting for his next order. It’s not long in coming.