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“It sounds great, Nick. I’m excited for you. I’m excited for the kids you’re going to help.” He nods in acknowledgment, and I take the opportunity to reach over and brush my fingers along the back of his right hand—the one whose scars shine silvery in the low light of the candle. “Maybe you should do some of the cooking lessons too. I can personally vouch for your killer talent in the kitchen. Your breakfast repertoire alone is enough to give Gavin Castille a run for his money.”
He smirks, turning his hand over to still my tracing of his scars, capturing my fingers in his warm, firm grasp. “Here I thought you loved me for my many other talents.”
I laugh softly, but my pulse quickens and the center of my chest warms at hearing him acknowledge the depth of my feelings for him.
“Does it bother you that I told you how I feel about you?”
He studies me, his handsome face unreadable. “Why would it?”
“Because you’ve told me yourself that you don’t do relationships.” Because I’ve also seen the scorched earth remains of his other past lovers—beginning with my friend, Margot, who manages his gallery, Dominion. And, more recently, Kathryn.
I swallow now, uncertain I should be venturing down this path, especially when we’re having such a good time tonight. When I don’t answer right away, Nick does.
“And because I haven’t said those words to you?”
I want to deny that it stings, that it confuses me how he can desire me so fiercely—take me so possessively—yet keep me at arm’s length when it comes to his heart. We’ve only been together a few months. A blink of time.
But it’s been long enough for me to know.
When he speaks now, his deep voice is gentle, as reflective as I’ve ever heard it. “I’ve never been relationship material, Avery. I had no delusions that I could be when I first laid eyes on you. I wasn’t looking for this. I sure as fuck wasn’t inten
ding for things to go this far between us. I wasn’t expecting . . . you.”
I nod, because he’s saying the same things I felt. Things I feel even now, except my regrets for how deeply I’ve become entangled with him are complicated by how much I care for him.
His thumb strokes the center of my palm. “Sometimes I wish I could start over with you, be someone better for you. Someone who isn’t as fucked up. Someone who can love you properly . . . someone you deserve.”
“Everyone’s fucked up, Nick. And anyway, what makes you the best judge of what I deserve?” When his hand starts to edge away from mine, I hold fast. “I wasn’t expecting you either. I wasn’t looking to feel something like this. But then you look at me like you are right now . . . you take my hand, or you pull me down beneath you, and I think maybe I’ve been waiting for you—looking for you, for this, for us—all my life.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and there is a part of me that worries I’ve said too much. Revealed more than I should have, more than he wants to deal with. He could shred me with a single word right now, with a single shuttered glance.
But he doesn’t.
“Avery.” My name is so soft and reverent on his tongue, it nearly makes me weep. His fingers close more intently around mine and he draws my hand to him. He brushes his lips over my fingertips, drawing one of the sensitive pads into his mouth in a sensual, yet heart-breakingly tender kiss.
My throat constricts with all the love I feel for this man, while inside me every nerve ending strums to life, yearning for the moment when I can be alone and naked with him again.
I’ve never been more conflicted than I am in that next instant when our waiters walk back into the room, interrupting us with a meal that looks and smells beyond divine.
Nick releases me as our plates are set in front of us and a bottle of red wine is opened beside our table. The food is amazing, everything cooked and seasoned to perfection.
We eat with abandon in the candlelight, the nighttime city glittering like a box of dark jewels outside. I feel like a princess in a fairy tale. Even better than that, because as Nick has promised me, this is real.
He smiles at me as I finish off the last bite of my steak. “What do you think?”
I take a sip of the smooth Cabernet, reveling in the slight buzz that’s building inside me from the champagne and the wine and the food. The most intoxicating part of the evening is the gorgeous man seated across from me at the table, looking at me as if he cannot wait to devour me next.
“I think you’re spoiling me beyond all reason. And I’m not just talking about tonight.”
“Reason is overrated,” he replies, his gaze dark on me. “The best things—the most pleasurable things—only exist on the other side of it.”
“Is that so?”
He nods slowly, his gaze riveted on me as he brings his wine glass to his mouth, studying me over the rim. “I want to push you to the limits of everything that pleases you, Avery. I want to push you past those limits.”
I swallow, heat rushing over my skin at his sensual promise. My breasts feel heavier under his hungry stare, my nipples peaking in anticipation of his touch, his kiss. The desire that’s been smoldering inside me all evening intensifies now that I know it won’t be long before I’m in Nick’s arms, in his bed.
I want to ask him to take me there right now, before I combust with need, but at that same moment, our private waitstaff enters the room to clear our dishes and remove the empty wine bottle and glasses from the table. Nick seems in no hurry, and I can’t deny that his patience is somewhat maddening, especially when I am practically itching with the urge to leap on him and tear his beautiful clothes off.
