Chapter Thirty-Seven Lee
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lee
It’s a pretty perfect date night, and to cap it all off, we’re home by eleven.
I could say that’s because we’re being responsible: we’ve got our meeting with Charles tomorrow, and we need to relieve Claudia from her babysitting duties.
I’d love to pretend that’s why we rush home from the bar, why we sit next to each other in the back of Bud’s cab, our hands resting on the seat between us, close but not quite touching while the air between us trembles.
But we’re not being responsible. We’re being horny little monsters.
‘Darlings! I do hope you had fun,’ Claudia twinkles from the sofa where she’s flicking through a fashion magazine. ‘Although I thought you’d be hours yet.’
‘Did it all go okay?’ Nico asks, studiously ignoring this.
Claudia waves her hand. ‘Of course! We had a wonderful time.’
Nico gives her a grateful smile. ‘I’ll quickly look in…’ He gestures towards Phoebe’s door.
Claudia and I watch him go. ‘He’s such a great dad,’ she says, her eyes soft.
‘He really is.’
‘I always knew he would be.’ Claudia looks suddenly sad. ‘Nothing like his own father. He loves that little girl so much.’
‘She loves him, too.’
The wistful expression disappears, and Claudia smiles. ‘She does. But then, how could she help it? My son is a very loveable man…’ The look she gives me is arch.
Thankfully, we’re interrupted by Nico coming back into the room.
‘Did she wake up?’ Claudia asks.
‘For a second,’ Nico grins. ‘But she’s back out like a light. Taco’s all snuggled up with her. I take it from the state of her walls you two had a good night… Who exactly is Patty Felton and how did she earn a spot on the grudge list?’
Claudia’s alligator grin widens. ‘A ghastly woman who has outbid me at the last three auctions I’ve attended.
She follows me around and then jumps in with all that gauche crypto money her husband makes or downloads or however it works.
’ Claudia sniffs. ‘I guess you can’t buy good taste so she’s always trying to steal mine.
Anyway, Phoebe and I had a great time discussing vendettas and plans for vengeance. ’
Nico groans. ‘I don’t think I want to know.’
‘No, no.’ Claudia is airy. ‘Phoebe had some excellent ideas. She definitely takes after me. Apparently Magda is very love and light about things, which I find so admirable, but ultimately very unsatisfying, don’t you think?
Anyway, my sweet ones, I’m sure you’re dying to get to bed.
’ This last line is delivered with all the subtlety of a brass marching band, and she winks as she throws a giant cashmere pashmina around herself.
‘And Bud is still outside waiting for me. Such an intelligent man, we do have the most insightful conversations. Goodnight!’
She shuts the door behind her, and the house falls silent.
In the quiet, the throb of my own heartbeat rings in my ears; my skin suddenly feels too tight. All the tension that tangled between us in the back of the cab comes rushing back in an instant.
When I glance at Nico he’s running his eyes over me like he has a list of wicked things he wants to do and a pretty good idea of where he’s going to start.
I don’t say anything, can’t say anything. I only turn and head for the bedroom. Nico follows in silence, his steps unhurried. I shiver, but don’t let myself turn around, totally aware of his presence.
I stop by the foot of the bed, my gaze unfocused on the sheets and my heart hammering. I realise I’m nervous. The anticipation that has been building all night… it feels brand new. It feels like the first time. There’s the sharp click of a lock turning.
When I turn to face him, Nico’s eyes are dark. ‘It’s lucky that this place was part of the inn,’ his voice is low, ‘or I’d have had to fit a lock myself. Now I have you where I want you. No interruptions.’
He takes another step towards me, nudges me backwards so that my legs hit the edge of the bed.
‘Oh?’ I look up at him. ‘And what exactly do you have planned?’
His smile unfurls slowly. ‘I have some thoughts.’
Lowering to his knees in front of me, he runs one warm hand down my leg, rumbling his approval at the feeling of the soft suede under his fingertips.
‘But if you want me to touch you then you’re going to have to be quiet.’ Slowly, he traces the seam of the fabric along the inside of my calf. ‘Do you think you can do that?’
‘Yes,’ I whisper, wetting my lips. Phoebe’s room might be on the opposite side of the house, but I know we have to keep the noise down.
‘These shoes,’ he says almost absently. ‘I still remember when I first saw you in Vegas, sitting at the bar, flirting with the bartender in your fuck-me heels. I wanted to punch that guy in the face.’
‘If it helps,’ I manage, ‘I was very bad at flirting.’
Amusement flickers across his face. ‘Sit on the edge of the bed,’ he demands, and when I do, he eases my right shoe off, pressing his thumb into the arch of my foot in a way that has my eyes fluttering shut. ‘I don’t know how you walk in these things.’
‘Practice,’ I smile as he repeats the action, his big, warm hand wrapping around my other foot. He stands up, towering over me.
‘I’ve thought a lot about this,’ Nico murmurs. ‘About fucking my wife in our bed.’
My breath catches. His wife. He says the words as if he likes the feel of them in his mouth.
I let myself fall a bit further into the fantasy.
Nico’s wife. For the next week that’s what I am.
I’m not going to let worries about the future ruin this, I decide, and I feel fiercely protective of this moment, like some sort of feral Zen master.
I’m living in the now, and the now is spectacular.
Nico leans over me, grips the hem of my jumper and pulls it up over my head.
Cradling my face between his hands he finally kisses me, easing us back on the bed.
He tastes like whisky, his mouth a hot, slow tease.
I try not to black out as his tongue slides against mine, and the sandpaper scruff on his jaw scrapes against my skin.
He traces my cheekbone with his fingers.
My teeth close around his earlobe, the metallic touch of his earring cold on my tongue, and he shivers.
The room is full of quiet sighs and whispered encouragement.
His fingers are deft as they undo my bra, as he turns his attention to my breasts, nipping and sucking and teasing me all while he unbuttons my trousers.
He kisses his way down my body as he slides them off, and my fingers thread through his dark curls while he places open-mouthed kisses across my thighs, one big hand pressing lightly on my stomach in a silent command to keep still.
I make a choked, desperate noise and he lifts his head. ‘What did I say, baby? I need you to be quiet, or I’ll have to stop.’
‘I’ll be quiet,’ I promise, feverish. ‘I’ll be so quiet. Please don’t stop.’
He hooks his fingers into the sides of my underwear and drags them slowly down my legs, and then his mouth is where I want it, where I need it to be, and I squirm and press my hand to my lips to keep from crying out as he fucks me with his fingers, with his tongue – leisurely, languidly, relentlessly – until my vision hazes over and I come apart.
I press my hand harder over my mouth, swallowing a scream as the heat uncurls inside me, starting in my toes and travelling up, up, up until I’m nothing but stardust, a supernova exploding across the sky.
When I come back to earth, Nico is lying beside me, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. He’s also fully dressed and I don’t have a stitch on. This would usually make me feel self-conscious but I think he blew up that part of my brain.
‘No fair,’ I grumble. ‘Why do you have all your clothes on?’
‘We can remedy that situation any time you like.’
‘Great.’ I press my hand to my heart, which feels like it’s trying to escape out of my chest. ‘Just give me two to three business days to catch my breath.’
‘We’re in no hurry,’ he says, and as if to prove the point he leans over and gives me a lingering kiss. His fingers trail down my side, and stop at my tattoo – he traces the letters with his fingertips, a barely there touch that has me thinking maybe I don’t need that long to recover after all.
‘Tell me about this,’ he whispers. ‘It’s from Pride and Prejudice, right?’
I lift my brows in surprise and he laughs. ‘I Googled it,’ he admits. ‘Everything nourishes what is strong already,’ he reads the elegant, looping script that trails over my ribcage.
‘I got it last year,’ I say as he continues to touch me. ‘Tara and I both agreed to get bookish tattoos and it felt… daring, actually. Unexpected. Like a secret.’
‘Mmm…’ He leans down and kisses the ink. ‘Knowing that underneath those tidy clothes it’s silk underwear and secret tattoos… That’s going to make my life more difficult. I have enough trouble focusing around you as it is.’
I laugh, and he grins and kisses my neck.
‘So what does it mean?’ he asks.
‘Elizabeth Bennet says it.’ I close my eyes, relaxing into the feeling of his fingers stroking my skin.
I want to purr like a cat. ‘She’s being funny, talking about someone writing bad poetry for her sister Jane, and how there’s no quicker way to kill off romance, and then Mr Darcy says something about how he thought poetry was the food of love.
She tells him it probably is if people are really, properly in love with each other, that “everything nourishes what is strong already”. ’
‘I like that,’ Nico murmurs.
‘I do too,’ I agree sleepily. ‘People think love is all poetry and tempests, but I never wanted it to be like that. I think there’s something romantic about saying that a love story doesn’t sprout because of a few pretty words, but that when you’re in love, really in love, then art – then everything – can be for you. ’
‘Like when you hear a love song, and you finally feel like you really understand it,’ Nico muses.
‘Exactly. You don’t fall in love because of the song, the song says something about how you feel already and in that moment you feel it even more. It feeds it. Something strong that only gets stronger.’
He’s quiet for a moment, and I feel hazy, drugged, slipping into that place between waking and dreaming as he strokes my side, as he feathers kisses across my shoulder. He manoeuvres the bed sheets, dragging them over my sensitive skin. I prise my eyes open to see him unbuttoning his shirt.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Shhh, go back to sleep,’ he says.
‘I’m not asleep,’ and I feel cross about this comment, until his shirt hits the floor and I get to drink in all those beautiful muscles, all that delicious gold skin.
He shucks off his jeans and slips into bed beside me, wearing only his boxers.
He reaches out and pulls me against him, his fingers sliding over my stomach, as he brushes a kiss against my neck.
‘You were definitely asleep,’ he murmurs against my hair. ‘You were making cute little noises.’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘I certainly was not. And anyway,’ I press against him, ‘I seem to remember something about you wanting to fuck your wife in this bed.’
Nico lets out a pained hiss, and I can feel him hard and ready against me.
‘But only if you can be very quiet,’ I whisper, turning in his embrace and winding my arms around his neck, kissing him and rubbing my extremely naked body against his.
‘Fuck,’ he bites out. ‘I want you so much.’
‘Who’s stopping you?’ I ask, as my fingers drift down, pushing into his underwear, curling around his erection. He pumps into my hand with a needy growl, and I smile against his mouth. ‘Shhh,’ I murmur.
‘You think you’re so funny,’ he mutters, something dangerous sparking in his eyes. ‘Let’s see who’s laughing when I’m inside you and you’re the one trying not to scream my name.’
‘Promises, promises…’ My words are swallowed up by his kiss, and then his hands are everywhere.
There’s no part of me that’s left untended.
It’s chaotic in the best way. He keeps getting distracted by something new: Did I know how soft my skin is in this precise spot behind my ear?
Did I know the freckles on my back are shaped like the Eridanus constellation?
Did I know – as he licks across my pulse – that my wrists have been a real problem for him?
I’m so pretty everywhere, he tells me, I’m delicious, he claims, as he tastes and samples and takes.
I smell like honey and I feel like I was made for him.
When he finally rolls on a condom and slides into me I’m a mess; shuddering, pressing my face into his neck, trying desperately not to make a noise.
He stretches over me, opening the nightstand, a smirk on his lips, and moments later he reaches between us, sliding the vibrator over my clit while he’s inside me.
The movement of his hips presses the toy harder against my over-sensitised flesh, the flicker of the air pressure pulses in a relentless rhythm and I’m so full of him, stretched to the limit, right on the edge of pain.
My control is a fraying ribbon, a thousand broken threads.
He grinds into me, and the pressure on my clit is devastating.
It takes about five insane seconds before I’m coming harder than I ever have in my life.
I bite down on his shoulder, completely unravelling as I feel him fall over the edge with me.
‘God, that was incredible,’ he murmurs when we finally return to earth, when the aftershocks of my orgasm are tingling through my heavy limbs.
‘Think how amazing we’ll be with some practice,’ I agree.
He lifts an eyebrow. ‘We need practice?’
‘It does make perfect,’ I say primly.
He smiles, a wolf smile, leaning in to kiss me again. ‘Then by all means. Let’s get started.’