CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
It was dusky as she walked to the house.
The night she had longed for was finally here.
Her and Sev. Together and alone.
No flights to catch—at least until the morning—and no place they needed to be.
Now she walked along the gorgeous familiar streets towards the house she adored and the man she wanted to be with.
She’d felt a little emboldened after their encounter in the library, as if it had proved she could get through and not tell him.
But that had been a temporary escape, Juliet knew…
Tonight was about discovery…finding out more about what the other wanted, what was at the forefront of their minds.
She didn’t know how she’d meet his eyes. In fact she felt sick to her stomach as she climbed the stone steps.
She was utterly relieved when he opened the door and she stepped inside, and he took her straight in his arms so she could bury her head in his chest.
‘I know it was hellish,’ he said. ‘I should have thought…’
‘It was fine…’ She took a breath of him. ‘Interesting at times.’
‘Very,’ he said. ‘But it’s the last one. I’ve told Gio no more. Forget about them all now…’
How could she?
They were his family, and she knew more than he.
But she pulled herself back and smiled when she saw he’d changed.
‘You’re all dressed up,’ she said, glad to have something to focus on other than the secret she held. She ran her hand along the sleeve of his immaculate suit, a lighter grey than the one he’d worn for the memorial. ‘Are we going out?’
‘You’ll see,’ he said. ‘Go and get ready.’
‘Sev!’ She laughed. ‘I assumed we’d stay in. I haven’t even thought about what to wear.’
‘Your bath is ready.’
‘Have you had a maid come in?’ she teased walking up the spiral stairs. ‘Should I expect petals floating on the surface?’
Oh, there was more than that. There were candles lit all around, and fragrant bubbly water, and a glass of Casadio wine.
It was all so perfect.
If only she hadn’t heard what she had.
Juliet trailed her hand through the water. ‘It looks gorgeous…’
‘Enjoy,’ Sev said. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Perfect.’
‘Do we need to discuss what happened earlier today?’
‘No.’
She was fine with what had happened in the library—had loved it, in fact. It had been far easier than being here, not knowing what to say.
She looked up and smiled, and thought she’d never given him a false smile before. She hoped the candlelight masked it.
‘How long have I got?’
‘As long as you need.’
‘I need a hint before I get ready,’ she said. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere we can talk.’
Damn.
‘You’re sure you’re okay?’
‘Of course.’
She stripped off and sat on the edge of the bath in a panic. Somehow she had to hold back from this man who drew her in closer than she’d been to any other.
She felt twelve years old again, with her mother asking why she was in such a mood. Only this was worse—far worse. She was twenty-five years old, and even if Sev might not want her love it was there, and she knew a secret that could destroy his fledgling relationship with his brother.
Spiona .
Tattletale.
That dawn he had called her that it had helped, and they’d laughed, and he’d been able to tease. But she just couldn’t see them getting to do that over this.
What should she do?
Learn your lesson. Leave well alone.
Yes , she decided.
So Juliet climbed into the bath and lay there, and it was so perfect she felt some of the tension seep out of her.
Looking around, she saw the twinkling candles and had a sip of wine.
Why would she let something that had happened years ago spoil their night? It was between the two brothers.
Stay out of it, Juliet.
Yes.
She could do this.
Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes, and then she breathed in again and pulled up from the bath and wrapped herself in a towel.
‘That was quick,’ he said as she came into the crimson bedroom.
‘It was gorgeous.’ She smiled, feeling a little more like her old self and confident with her choice. She frowned at a large white box on the bed. ‘What’s that?’
‘A gift. I was going to lay it on the bed.’
‘What is it?’ she asked.
But almost the second she opened it Juliet knew. Soft, silky black velvet spilled out of layers of white tissue paper.
‘This is…’ She couldn’t believe it. ‘I thought you didn’t buy your dates gifts?’
She was laughing, overwhelmed as she took the beautiful dress out of the box.
‘Any alterations it needs can be done. It might be a little big.’
She hung it on the huge antique wardrobe and then found her lacy underwear—the only sexy ones she had. He took them, and she held on to his shoulder as he pulled delicate lace over her still damp skin.
‘They’re setting up for us downstairs,’ he told her as she put her arms through the bra straps and he did up the hooks. He ran a hand down her spine, then turned her around and stroked one aching nipple with the back of his index finger. ‘Do you want to do make-up?’
‘No.’
‘Not those red lips you wore that night?’
She went to the dressing table and put up her hair, and then she painted on those too-dark red lips. She didn’t have to hide her eyes—this was just about them.
The dress was perfect.
It went on over her head, and she slid her arms in as he pulled the skirt down.
Then he led her to one of the many large mirrors.
‘I love it.’
The scoop neck was higher than on the cream version she’d tried on, and this time her arms lifted easily. There were no pointy bits on the shoulders—he’d got every detail right.
‘Oh, I can’t believe you did this.’ She smiled at him.
‘You’re going to play beautifully in it.’
‘I hope so.’
They went down to dinner. Given the lack of furniture, she wondered where they would eat, but they went out into the late summer night in the cut back garden, with the fountain flowing, stars popping out.
‘They want to see you in that dress too,’ he said.
And so they sat, a little formal and awkward with the waiters there, but it was so nice to sit opposite him. To talk with him face to face about little things, nice things.
‘Thank you,’ he said at last, as the lightest lemon tart was served. ‘We’ll be fine now.’
Finally they were alone.
‘How are the rehearsals?’ he asked.
‘They’re going really well.’
‘And the ensemble?’
She nodded. ‘I think I might be able to call myself a professional musician for real soon.’ She took a breath. ‘I don’t know how I’d have got there without this place.’
‘You’d have got there.’ He took her hand. ‘You are going to be incredible,’ he told her. ‘I’m just sorry that I can’t be there—and not only because I don’t do double dates with my brother.’
‘Perish the thought…’
She gave a little shiver and the real world impinged, just in a quick flash, with all the problems that awaited.
‘Why don’t you come to Dubai for a few days?’ he asked her. ‘We can talk about things there. I’ll be working, but it will be easier than here.’
She asked the question she was dreading his answer to. ‘You’re really never coming back, are you?’
‘I don’t know,’ he told her. ‘I think things are better than they have been. The memorial went as well as it could have.’
And perhaps it was a culmination of the events of the day, or just a glimpse of what lay ahead, but her eyes filled with tears.
He took her hand. ‘Stop,’ he said.
And, yes, they did need to talk, she thought. But it had been such a wrenching day—surely they deserved to simply enjoy this beautiful night and each other.
‘We haven’t danced yet,’ he said.
He opened an app on his phone and music filtered through the garden.
He stood and held out his hand. ‘Please?’
Back in his arms, she was in bliss. She would always be happy there.
‘It’s nice music…’ he said.
‘Yes…’ Juliet wound her arms around his neck. ‘I used to play that piece.’ Then she stilled and listened. ‘Is that me?’
‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ he told her.
‘You’ve got my demo tape.’
‘I’ve had it for quite some time.’
And now she was shaking inside as they danced, his hand on her back, her head on his chest, and he told her he found her music relaxing.
‘I like watching you play,’ he told her. ‘I like listening too.’
He kissed her then, on the garden dance floor, until even the private garden would not do. Their lips were waxy with lipstick, and she loved his mouth dark and reddened.
Together they took the spiral staircase and then went into the crimson room, where they closed the door even though there was no one around.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, and they kissed, soft and slow.
‘Undress me, then,’ he told her.
And, while she wanted their clothes to somehow melt away, and to be naked beneath the covers, there was a different bliss to be had in this.
She wasn’t sure she could stand still and steady if he was undressing her. Just stand the way he did as she removed his jacket and went to place the garment over an occasional chair.
He took it from her and dropped it to the floor.
Juliet was nervous—not because of him, more because she didn’t quite understand what was required here.
‘Your tie is…’
He smiled as she struggled with the knot, and she wished he’d kiss her, or that she could kiss the olive skin of his neck, but instead she went to deal with the buttons of his shirt.
‘Cuffs first.’
‘I don’t know how cufflinks work.’
‘That’s fine,’ he said, in a way that told her they had all the time in the world.
Only she could feel the energy in the air…could see his erection straining the fabric of his trousers as she dealt with the silver cufflinks. Even his hands were stunning—long-fingered, with neat nails.
‘What about your watch? Should I take it off?’
‘Please.’
How could removing a watch be a turn-on? How could exposing the veins of his inner wrist make her own skin thrum with desire and her mouth want to lower and kiss his pulse?
Now on to his shirt, and that button by his throat. A very sexy throat. She would have liked to tell him, but pressed her lips closed.
He made her feel light-headed as the fabric parted to reveal the dark mat of his chest hair and her impatient hands tugged the fabric up.
‘Perhaps undo my belt?’ he suggested.
‘You’re not being much help.’
‘Very well,’ he said, and kicked off his shoes and removed his socks. Then he stood still. ‘Take your time.’
She was one burning blush as she dealt with his belt and the top of his trousers, trying not to notice the bulge of him. Her nostrils filled with his smoky scent as she undid the last buttons, then peeled off his shirt down long muscled arms.
He took her hand and placed it on his chest, and she felt him warm beneath her palm. She wished her heart was as steady as his. Her eyes were drawn to his flat, dark nipples, and she drew her flattened palm back and stroked one.
* * *
Sev closed his eyes. Her slow perusal was a heady turn-on. And then he felt the wet of her mouth and her tongue tasting his nipple…
And he ached, his restraint becoming unbearable as her mouth moved to his neck.
‘Juliet!’
* * *
She undid him and pushed down the dark trousers, struggled with the silk boxers and then freed him. She should finish the task, but she was too fascinated, watching as he stepped out of his clothes.
And there was Sevandro, made naked by herself, his narrow hips, strong thighs, black silky hair. She touched the back of her finger to his erection and then ran it along the base, turning her hand and feeling the velvety skin with loose fingers.
‘Lift your arms,’ he instructed.
‘I don’t want to,’ she said, but she did so.
With practised ease he divested her of her dress, then he unhooked her bra with those skilled fingers. She felt the drop of her bust as he slid the straps down, and in a second she’d stepped out of her knickers.
‘Nothing to stop us now,’ he said.
And as they hit the bed there was so much lust in the eyes that searched her skin, although his touch was gentle on her breasts.
She didn’t have to avoid his gaze any longer. His focus was intently on her, but in a pleasurable way, and there was nowhere to hide in his bed.
He kissed her so softly that it teased, and made her ache for more as his naked body weighted her down from the hips. But from the waist up there was still soft distance. He was up on one forearm and his mouth was tender, his hand stroking her face. There was no trace of the dark passion that had joined them this afternoon…his kiss was sublime.
‘I’ve been waiting for this night,’ he told her. ‘Waiting for this,’ he said, as he slid in unsheathed.
There was a catch in her breath as he filled her…a moan from him as he slid into her tight, oiled space, stretching her. And still he hovered above her as they joined intimately below, watching her.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she admitted, saying what she hadn’t been able to the last time they’d made love.
‘I know.’
He lowered his head and she heard his sigh of satisfaction as he moved within her, as if savouring the sensation, and she savoured it too—the feel of him deep inside her, moving within her, her body curling and arching, her legs wrapping around his.
‘I really…’ She wanted to say again that she’d missed him, but that didn’t quite fit. Why did she cry when he was inside her? Why as he moved faster did she feel as if he were shaking out her secrets? ‘I really missed you.’
‘I’m here,’ he told her, and he shifted, angling himself and delivering a pleasure so deep it made her cry out, had her saying his name.
‘Sev…’ She was a little frantic, the short word not enough. ‘Sevandro…’
She could feel herself tighten, her neck arching back under the deep kiss of him on her throat, and now he was moving faster within her, each thrust a warning, urging her to complete.
‘Juliet…’ he warned her, and the growl of his tone told her he was close.
She pressed her lips together, unsure of the words she might spill as he swelled within her. As she watched his face contort, heard the groan of his release, she felt a flood of warmth and couldn’t hold back. She just gave in to the endless sensations he delivered, her intimate pulses her only response.
* * *
He felt every flicker of her orgasm, deepening and prolonging his own, and he pulsed into her, then rested his full weight on the warm, flushed body beneath him.
He lifted his head and they stared at each other.
‘I missed you too—a lot,’ he told her, still inside her. ‘Too many nights.’
She nodded. ‘For me too.’
He pulled out and they lay together, and it was the closest he had felt to complete.
‘We need to do something about that,’ he said, as they lay sated and on the edge of sleep.
* * *
‘How, though?’ she asked.
And there was a tiny note of panic as she tried not to think of the oceans between them, or the closer problems they might have to face, not wanting the real world to impinge.
‘Shh,’ he said, as if was refusing to break their bliss. ‘Let me sort it.’
And this was another moment of bliss.
To fall asleep in his arms and simply leave the impossible to him.