AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And how do I smell, Faith?”
“Like control. Like sex. Woodsy and sexy.”
“And you, sweetheart, smell like—”
“Amber and vanilla.”
“Yes, you do. And I’m obsessed with your scent. I’m obsessed withyou.”
“Obsessed,” she says. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It is dangerous.”
And her reply is everything any man could want. “Where is your bedroom, Nick?”
“Up the stairs directly behind you.”
She turns and starts up the stairs, her pace slow, seductive, calculated. She knows every swing of her hips makes me burn. And I fucking love it. I wait until she’s upstairs, out of sight, and then, with my adrenaline pumping, I follow her. I find her sitting on the end of my king-size mattress, the centerpiece of my room, the gray headboard behind her. That card from her father in her lap.
“I need to read this. And you know that means I needyou.”
I inhale on a realization. Faith is once again using sex as a wall. And I almost let her. I had the word “love” pop into my head, and I just wanted to fuck. And she just wants to fuck. But I’m not letting her hide from me. Even if it means I can’t escape whatever the fuck this unknown emotion is I feel for this woman. I walk to the bed and stand above her. She doesn’t touch me. I don’t want her to, and she knows this. I like that she knows. I shrug out of my jacket and remove my tie, both of which I toss to the center of the bed. I then set the card aside and do what I know she does not expect me to do.
I take her down on the mattress with me, rolling her to face me. “I’m not going to spank you, Faith,” I say, sliding my leg between hers. “Not now. Maybe not even this weekend. I want you to see and feel me. I want you to remember me this weekend, not my hand.”
“Nick,” she whispers, and when I kiss her, she does that thing she does. She breathes out like she needed my kiss, like it’s why she exists. And right now, this woman is why I exist. I kiss her. I touch her. I strip her naked, and me, too. I lick her nipples. I lick her clit. I lick every inch of her until she is begging for me inside her and I need to be there. And once I’m inside her and we’re staring at each other, swaying together, I don’t make love to her. I don’t do love, but I damn sure don’t fuck her, either. And when it’s over, I hold her for long minutes before I settle my shirt around her and help her roll up the sleeves.
We order Chinese and eat in my bed, me in my pants, her in my shirt, and I like this woman in my clothes and my bed. It’s only after we finish eating that I am ready to show her one of the gifts I have for her this weekend. I take her hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”
“Now you have me curious.”
“Good,” I say, guiding her down the hallway. “That’s the idea.”
We stop at a room with the door shut, and I open it and motion her forward. She smiles and walks inside and gasps. “Nick. What did you do?”
I step inside the doorway to find her standing in the center of the massive triangle-shaped room, next to the canvas I have set up for her, a supply of brushes and paint nearby. “They tell me the floor cleans right up. I had it installed this week.”
“Why would you do this?”
“I didn’t want you to be away from your brush.”
“This is incredible. It’s such a cool, crazy-shaped space. What was this room before now?”
“Nothing. I had no idea what to do with it.”
She inhales, her chest rising and falling. “What happens when I’m not around?”
I cross to stand in front of her, cupping her face. “That’s where we’re differing here, Faith. I’m thinking about every moment I have with you, and you’re thinking about goodbye.” I kiss her then, and damn it, I am obsessed with her. So fucking obsessed. And like she said, obsession is dangerous.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tiger
I watch Faith paint for hours, a stack of work next to me that I barely touch. I just watch her work while my mind chases the puzzle that is her mother and my father together. Murder brought us together. Lies could tear us apart. I don’t know what time I take her to bed, or how long I keep her awake once I get her there. But I wake with Faith pressed to my side, and I have one thought. In the right and wrong of things, there is nothing wrong about this woman in my bed.
The day is lazy, rain falling outside, and we have coffee on my balcony, talking, laughing, both of us in sweats and T-shirts with no plans to go anywhere until tonight. “Are you wearing the blue dress tonight?” I ask, sipping my coffee while thinking of the blue panties.
“I’m not sure,” she says. “I wish I had asked about the dress code. I brought several choices.”
