Читать книгу The Saint - Tiffany Reisz, Tiffany Reisz - Страница 16

Nora

NICO DROPPED HIS HEAD AND LAUGHED, RUBBING the back of his neck in consternation and amusement. Nora put her toe under his chin and lifted it.

Nora put on her best dominant face.

“Young man, do you think it’s hilarious that I stole cars for my father and got arrested? I promise you I didn’t find it funny.”

“That’s not funny. You at fifteen forcing your priest to agree to sleep with you is funny.”

“I admit I was pretty damn proud of myself for my negotiating skills.”

“More like hostage taking. If you hadn’t obeyed him …”

“Bye, bye, Catholic high school. Hello, juvie.”

“Didn’t he scare you? You were fifteen. He was twenty-nine.”

“Had it been any other man it probably would have scared me. But with Søren, everything felt like destiny. When we met he said, ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’ We’d both been waiting for each other, like it was meant to be that we would find and love each other. We belonged together—me, Søren, Kingsley. Getting arrested brought all three of us together.”

“So it was Kingsley your priest was talking about?” Nico held out his hand to her and helped her out of the chair. She could have done it herself. But she wasn’t about to turn down a chance to let Nico touch her any way he wanted.

“It was. The friend Søren said had connections and could help get my ass out of the hot seat? That was your father.”

Nico grabbed their glasses and the wine bottle and led her up the stairs. Despite the fire, the downstairs had grown colder as midnight neared, and it was hard to think and speak of the past with the silver box on the fireplace mantel in front of her, its contents so precious and so terrifying.

“Kingsley has interesting friends,” Nico said as they entered the bedroom. He set the wine and glasses down on the bedside table and went to work building the fire back up.

“And even more interesting enemies. Kingsley and I share something in common—we’re both fascinated by other people,” Nora said, pulling the covers back. “Where we differ is that when I’m fascinated by someone, I fuck him. When Kingsley is fascinated by someone, he fucks with him.”

Nico laughed and walked back to the bed. He kissed her neck and nipped lightly at her shoulder.

“Is that why you let me inside you?” he whispered in her ear. “You’re fascinated by me?”

“That’s part of it, yes. You’re my first farmer.” She pulled away and smiled up at him.

“You’re my first dominatrix.”

“But not your first shamefully older woman?” she asked as she slid into bed and propped herself up on the pillows. Nico pulled off his shirt. Such an exquisite male form. Where was her camera when she needed it?

“My last girlfriend was forty-three,” he said.

“Forty-three? Jesus, you do have a Mrs. Robinson complex, don’t you?”

“It’s a choice, not a complex,” he said. “Life is short. I don’t want to spend it with someone my age who doesn’t know anything more about life than I do. I have a friend, she’s my age. She’s funny, beautiful, smart. Everyone thinks we should be together. But she always has money trouble, always has a crisis. She’s forever calling her father for help. She doesn’t know what to do with her life. I love her, but I couldn’t be with someone like that. I own a successful vineyard. I have employees, people who depend on me. My last girlfriend owned a château and had a staff of ten people working for her. Even with the age difference we had more in common than my friend who’s my age who changes jobs and boyfriends every six months.”

“I don’t have a château, only a house. A big damn house, but no one works for me. I did have an intern once, though. Unpaid.” She conjured one little memory and held it in the palm of her hand. She smiled at it, loved it a moment and then let it go.

“Women and wine always get better with age,” Nico said.

“I want to think that. I get richer with age anyway. I’m at the point where I have more money than I know what to do with.”

“Buy more time to spend with me, maybe?”

Nora narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did an older woman teach you how to talk like that? Because, if so, I need her name and address to send her a thank-you note.”

Nico grinned down at her.

“Every woman I’ve been with has taught me something about women. How to kiss, how to fuck, how to dress. My first lover told me women are always watching. If you’re rude to the waiter, she sees and files that away.” Nico tapped his temple.

“You had a good education.”

“I want to learn everything from you, too. And everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He straddled her thighs and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. “How you like being touched. How you like being fucked. How you like your eggs in the morning. How you like your tea at night. How you love to be kissed.”

She raised her mouth to his, eager for more of his drugging kisses. When he kissed her and touched her, she could almost make herself believe he was the reason she’d run away to Europe and hidden herself in the middle of the Black Forest, where no one but Nico could find her.

“I like being touched the way you touch me,” she said. “I like being fucked the way you fuck me. I like my eggs scrambled and covered in cheese. I like my tea like I like my men—hot, ready and in my hand. And I love the way you kiss me because it helps me forget why I’m here.” Her voice broke at the final words and Nico took her by the shoulders.

“Can you forget?”

“No,” she said, shivering. “I want to. I’m so angry it happened that I can’t even … I can’t breathe when I think about it.”

“I was angry, too. Angry at everyone. Especially my mother. She moved to Paris five days after Papa’s funeral. Then I realized she was grieving, too. Being near his vines, his life’s work, reminded her too much of him. I never thought she really loved him. But then I knew. She couldn’t breathe, either.”

“Help me breathe,” she said, feeling the anger like a vise around her lungs.

He pulled her close and put her head on his shoulder.

“Breathe with me,” he said. “Do what I do.”

He inhaled deeply and pushed on her back with both hands. She forced air into her nose and held the breath.

“Now push it out,” Nico said. Nora forced herself to exhale. “Good. Again.”

With his hands on her back, he guided her breathing. In and out. Deep and long. A push against her back meant “breathe in.” A gentle slide of his fingers down her spine meant “breathe out.” After a few minutes she felt the fury and the panic subsiding.

She felt dizzy with gratitude for Nico’s presence. She clung to his arms as he held her and kissed his neck.

“Do you want me to make you come again?” he asked softly in her ear.

“Yes,” she said without shame. “It will distract me, and that’s as much as I can ask for now.”

Nico pulled the straps of gown down again, lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. Nora sighed and relaxed into the pillow. His tongue circled her areola while his hands held and warmed both breasts. She reached down to stroke him but he grabbed her hand by the wrist and pressed her hand over her head into the pillow.

“My kind of game,” she teased as he pressed her down into the bed.

“No games. I’m taking care of you tonight.” Nico kissed along the edge of her collarbone. “All night if you’ll let me.”

“I’ll let you.” She sighed, surrendering to him. It felt good to let go, to relax a little, to let him pleasure her without needing to give him anything in return. He resumed kissing her breasts and she did nothing but lie there underneath him. He pinched her nipples and bit them gently until they were swollen and sore—the way she liked them.

Nico slipped his hand between her legs and found the ring that pierced her clitoral hood.

“Decoration?” Nico asked.

“Mostly,” she admitted. “But it can be useful if you know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, but you can teach me.” Nico gave her a roguish grin.

With everything that had happened to her, with everything she’d been through and with everything she’d lost, she shouldn’t even be in bed with Nico, much less loving every second of his company. Had what she’d lost created such a vacuum that she needed to fill it with Kingsley’s son in her bed? Apparently so.

“There’s a bag in the bathroom,” she said. “Black silk.”

Nico raised his eyebrow.

“Trust me,” she said.

Nora straightened her gown and adjusted her pillows as Nico went into the bathroom to retrieve her bag. She gave him a wink before untying the cord and opening it. It contained nothing but a few pieces of jewelry she always traveled with—two pairs of earrings, a bracelet and the rings Søren had given her for Christmas. She’d taken the rings off two weeks ago, but she didn’t leave them behind. She could never leave them behind.

From the bag she selected an eighteen-inch silver beaded chain. She removed the camphor glass fleur-de-lis pendant, a birthday gift from Kingsley, and laid the bag aside.

“Are you getting the idea?” she asked, holding up the chain and running it through her fingers.

Nico took the chain from her hand.

“Lie back,” he said. “Open your legs.”

“The five best words in the English language.”

“Couche-toi. Écarte les cuisses,” Nico said.

“The five best words in the French language.”

Nora lay back as instructed and opened her legs wide for Nico. He tried and failed to unclasp the chain. She took it from him and opened it.

“Smaller fingers,” she said. He took the chain from her and threaded it through the ring. This time he managed to lock the clasp. He pulled the chain taut, and Nora flinched with the pleasure of the gentle tugging.

“Now pull the chain through.”

Nico did as instructed. The beads of the silver chain rattled the ring. Nora shivered at the sensation it created—like a vibrator but much more intimate and concentrated. She dug her fingers into the bed as Nico spun the chain through the ring over and over again, slowly at first and then faster as her breathing quickened.

With the chain in his left hand, he tugged and teased her clitoral ring. With his right hand, he pressed three and then four fingers into her. Nora spread wide for Nico as his hand explored her vagina. He massaged her G-spot, went deeper and pushed against the high back wall near her cervix. Her inner muscles twitched and tightened around his fingers. She gasped when he pushed into a soft corner of her, the pleasure so intense she flinched.

Nico laughed as he moved the chain back and forth. Her clitoris pulsed and her stomach tightened. Her hips rose of their own accord as she moved in time with the muscles clenching and releasing around Nico’s fingers.

She came with a sudden shiver that she felt from her shoulders to her knees before collapsing back on the bed with a spent laugh.

“Now that,” Nico said as he pulled out his hand and unclasped the chain, “is a good trick.”

“One of many up my sleeve,” Nora said, as she took the chain from him and put it back in her jewelry case. Nico ran his hand over her thighs and stomach.

“Where did you learn all these tricks?” he asked, kissing her mouth.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Kingsley?”

“And Søren. And my own wicked imagination.”

She pulled back from the kiss to wink at him.

“You amaze me.”

“That’s your erection talking.”

“And my heart,” he said.

She laid her hand on the side of his face. Such a young, handsome face. But he didn’t have an ounce of innocence in him. He worked too hard, lived too hard, had seen too much of the world to have stars in his eyes. Good. She liked his eyes the way they were right now—warm and hungry. He had none of his father’s cynicism and all of his secrets. But Nico’s secrets never scared her like Kingsley’s did. She knew one secret he kept from her for her own sake.

“I know you’re in love with me,” she said, caressing the arch of his cheekbone with her fingertips.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “My feelings are my own. They shouldn’t concern you.”

“God, you’re so French.”

Nico laughed and buried his head against her chest.

“I can’t help it,” he said. “I get it from my father.”

“Which father?” she asked.

“The one who raised me. My real father. Not Kingsley.”

“Kingsley would have raised you and loved you if he’d known about you.”

“Let me love you since I can’t love him,” Nico said.

She ran her fingers through the dark waves of his hair. In her younger days she would never have appreciated a man like Nico—quiet, industrious, low-key. He had presence and intelligence but he made no spectacle of himself. He didn’t need to own every room he walked into. He was so self-possessed he felt no need to possess anyone or anything else.

“Nico, look at me.” He raised his head and gazed into her eyes, the smile long gone from his face. “I’ve known your father twenty years. Twenty. Think about that.”

“If I can accept that, why can’t you?”

“It’s not that I’ve known him for a long time. It’s how I know him, what we are to each other, what we’ve been through together.”

“Then tell me. Please.”

“Are you sure you want to hear this story?” Nora asked as she settled into the pillows. Nico lay next to her, his arm draped over her stomach.