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If I were smart, I’d still try to find the strength to walk away—now, before my past catches up with me. Before it has the chance to hurt Nick the way it’s hurt everyone else I’ve loved.
If I didn’t think he would come after me again, maybe I would go.
But there’s an even more cowardly part of me that’s terrified he won’t.
Not if he knew the truth.
I’ve set my bag and purse down on the sofa to drift in front of the massive windows when I hear the door snick open behind me a few moments later. Every nerve ending in my body responds as if trained to know Nick’s presence. I hold still, my breath caught in my lungs, waiting for the moment I feel him come close.
His arms wrap around me from behind. I sink into his embrace, my demons chased back into the shadows now that he’s here. I exhale on a deep, tremulous sigh I feel I’ve been holding since I stepped out of the dressing room at L’opale. His warmth and strength engulf me, comforting me as much as he arouses me. The rigid pressure of his growing erection resting snugly against my ass sends fire licking through my veins.
God, how I want him.
The need he stirred in me over the phone roars back tenfold now that I’m standing in his arms.
He nestles his face into the crook of my neck and nips my tender flesh. “Do you have any idea how awkward it is sitting across from a nun when you’ve got a rampant hard-on hidden under the table?”
I laugh as I pivot in his loose grasp to face him. “You’re the one who started it, insisting on a private peep show in your office.”
“I trust Evelyn handled everything for you like I said she would?”
“Yes, Evelyn was great. She was very nice, extremely discreet. She hardly blinked when I told her you instructed her to put my things on your personal account.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He grins, loosening his pewter-colored tie. “It’s always good to have firsthand reports from satisfied customers.”
I gape at him. “Are you saying you own L’opale?”
“Technically, I own the building. Beck owns the store.” Beck, as in Andrew Beckham, Nick’s attorney. “He bought the boutique for his sister to manage a few years ago, after Evelyn went through a rough patch in her personal life and needed to start over.”
I close my eyes as understanding sinks in. Now that he’s made the connection for me, I realize the strikingly similar features that Beck and his sister share, from their tall, lean bodies and dramatic facial structures, to their creamy brown skin tones and stunning, light-colored eyes.
And while I’m still not ready to ask if I’m the first woman he’s purchased thousand-dollar lingerie for on his account at the boutique, the fact that he owns the building and his friend and colleague is the proprietor helps me to at least rationalize some of his apparent familiarity with the shop.
“So, you’re telling me that Baine International invests in everything from five-star hotels and commercial properties around the world, to retail space for women’s unmentionables?”
“Among other things.” Nick’s mouth quirks. “I have varied and eclectic interests.”
I practically snort. “Not the first two words that pop into my mind.”
He laughs, drawing my hand into his and guiding it down to his very impressive erection. “I don’t suppose I need to elaborate on the words that are popping into my mind right now. Or less conveniently, during my meeting with the good sister.”
I cup my hand around the bulge in his charcoal gray suit pants. “Serves you right, making me walk in here carrying lingerie in my hand, especially when you apparently knew damn well who was here.”
He smirks, thoroughly unrepentant. “Could’ve been worse. There’s an interesting sex shop in the Village I’d like you to see.”
“I suppose you have an account there too?” I raise my brows. “More than an account?”
He holds my gaze without answering, and my imagination whirls with curiosity about this man and all the pieces of him that he has yet to reveal to me. What kinds of erotic things would he want to show me? What kinds of carnal, rawly sexual things would he demand of me?
Memories of our time together on his sailboat in Miami several weeks ago now replay vividly in my mind. Memories of surrendering to him completely, my hands bound tight, my body belonging wholly to him. My sex throbs at the recollection . . . at the possibility of knowing that kind of dark pleasure with him again.
Trust me, he’d demanded.
And I had, even though it terrified me.
Even though trust is the one thing I’ve never been able to give a man.
In these past several months, I’ve given Nick more of me than I have anyone else in my entire twenty-five years. That should terrify me too. It does, but with him even fear has its own kind of allure.
