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Her remark about Nick—that he hates her because she loved him—has played through my mind repeatedly today.
I’m aware of his pattern of cutting people out of his life when they get too close. But with Kathryn I sense something different, something deeper.
I sense a secret that Nick will do anything to protect.
A secret that either begins or ends with Kathryn Tremont.
Maybe both.
Margot told me months ago to be careful or I’ll get hurt, that Nick is cold and unfeeling. Is Kathryn the reason? What the hell happened between them? What could she have done to earn the kind of scorn he obviously feels toward her?
My mind churns on all of the things I clearly don’t know about the man I’ve fallen in love with. All of the things he doesn’t know about me crowd into my thoughts, too, until my head feels on the verge of exploding.
On a moan, I shift in the bath and reach for the glass of Malbec that’s perched on the wide marble edge of the sunken tub next to a trio of stout pillar candles providing the only light in the room. Outside the window that frames the oversized tub, Manhattan glitters like diamonds scattered against the deep indigo backdrop of twilight.
Taking a drink of the smooth red wine, I tap the volume on the song pouring in through my earbuds until Adele’s contralto crooning is the only thing I hear. My eyes close and I let myself drift into the music, into the peace of the fragrant water lapping all around me.
Suspended in an artificial, yet welcome, state of calm, I don’t know how long I stay there. Long enough that one song on my playlist blends into another, then another. Long enough that my bones feel weightless and all of the tension has finally leached from my limbs.
Long enough that I begin to imagine Nick is in the room with me. I can smell the light trace of his cologne and the warm, spicy scent that belongs solely to him. I feel a charge in the air behind me, a heat that awakens me on a cellular, instinctual level.
It is him.
Not my imagination.
I exhale slowly, a shiver of arousal traveling through me. My senses recognize Nick’s presence with me even before his fingers gently brush the sides of my face from behind. He removes my earbuds and crouches down at the side of the tub, his voice a low rumble against my temple.
“Don’t move.” His lips brush my skin in a tender command. “I want you right where you are.”
Fabric rasps, a swift, satiny whisper. A moment later, something sleek and silky covers my eyes. His tie. His body heat still lingers on it, along with his intoxicating scent. I breathe it in as he fastens the tie around my head, securing it with a knot beneath the messy bun of my upswept hair.
I feel the shift in the air as he stands up, then I hear him undress. His shirt is unbuttoned, then tugged from the waistband of his bespoke suit pants. I hear it drop to the tiles, and I frown at my inability to open my eyes and watch the magnificence of Nick’s body being unveiled. My mind paints the picture from memory.
Behind my closed lids, I see his broad shoulders and strong arms. I see his smooth skin, his muscled chest and abdomen, all of the ridges and planes that I’ve explored with my mouth and hands. Places I’m hungry to explore again now. The anticipation alone is enough to ignite the bloom of wet heat that’s kindling in the center of my being.
His belt jangles as he unbuckles it, then unzips his slacks. I lick my lips, knowing that any second now, he’ll be completely naked. He’s already fully aroused. I don’t need to see his jutting cock to know he’s as hungry for me as I am for him. I can hear it in the jagged tempo of his breathing. I can feel it in the electricity that crackles through my veins as he approaches me in the tub.
His fingers alight under my chin. Without a word, he draws me around until I am facing him, until I have risen up on my knees in the water.
The hand cupping my chin falls away, only to reach down and guide my fingers to him. His big cock fills my palms, thick and heavy and gloriously erect. “I’ve wanted your hands on me all day,” he utters gruffly. “Stroke me now.”
I hardly need the instruction, but it sets my fingers in motion instantly. I caress every rigid inch from the root to the tip, reveling in the strength of him, so much power wrapped in the velvet of his skin. Veins rope the length of his shaft, and I trace each one with my fingertip, eager to do the same with my tongue. A bead of slick, hot wetness leaks out as I stroke my palm over the head of his erection, and I moan with the need to taste him.
Holding him in both hands, I lean forward to find him with my lips.
“Not yet.” He’s got the tails of the tie in his hand now. He winds them tighter around his fist, physically holding me back from doing what I want. “Not until I say you can.”
I don’t move, struck by the sharp denial. In spite of the blindfold, I didn’t realize we were playing a game. Then again, his curt order sounds anything but playful. Is he still pissed from what happened between us this morning? Or is this just what he craves from me tonight?
I can’t see his face to know for sure. The only thing I am certain of right now is that he is in control here.
He is in command of my body and my pleasure.
And he is waiting to hear me tell him that I understand. That I agree.
That I submit.
“Yes, sir.”
