Nicholas let his mind drift as she described the questions she’d been asked and how she’d responded. He already knew all of that anyway, since he and Arthur had been discussing candidates, but the sound of her voice soothed him, and her cautious optimism was endearing.
Fuck Hartwell, he thought, looking at the hopeful smile on her face.
Soon Jay would be his wife. After the interviews, which he needed to go well. Then she would be his. He watched her so intently at dinner trying to see her through that lens that he could tell it made her nervous from the way she began to falter.
“Nick?”
“Your glass is almost empty.” He picked up the bottle. “Do you want more wine?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she scolded, half-seriously.
“No.” He only filled her glass halfway, mentally calculating how long it would take her to sober up. “I just like seeing you enjoy yourself.”
“You do have very good taste in wine.” She took a slow sip.
She fucks like that, too, he thought, watching her close her eyes to savor a bite of pasta after the swallow of vintage, and he’d had to drown that thought in wine before it could grow teeth and bite.
It was so laughably fucking civil the way they played house between bites of vegan carbonara and tofu pancetta. Passing dishes like he’d never put that same hand around her throat. It was a civility you could crack like ice and fall into, unless youskated around the tension with wine and soft words. They both hid their true faces in public, just like they’d been taught.
Sex was the most honest thing they had between them.
Jay went to her room after dinner but he went to his office, now located in his childhood bedroom, and tried to work. His mind refused to cooperate, however; his thoughts remained firmly upstairs, no matter how many times he tried to refocus them.
He got up from his desk and shut his laptop decisively. There were still emails to respond to, but he was done.And she’s had several hours to get that wine out of her system.Using his phone as a flashlight, he made his way through the darkened halls, up the righthand staircase. But instead of taking a hard left, he went right and down the hall.
A path he’d taken dozens of times before, always cloaked in shadow.
The door creaked as he pushed it open, holding it just wide enough to let himself inside before snicking it shut behind him. Jay had her hoodie pulled over her face and her cat was sleeping on her stomach. When it saw him, its ears pricked and it scampered under the bed.
Nicholas got on top of her, savoring the way the softness of her body yielded so easily to his weight, and shifted the phone to his free hand as he pushed the hood back from her sleeping face.
“My god, you’re pretty.” He brushed a few curly locks from her forehead, drawing his fingers down her cheek, her parted lips.And she’s all mine.With a rough sigh, he yanked the zipper of her sweatshirt down and kissed her breast through the thin camisole. “Come to Daddy, sweet bird.”
A harsh breath escaped her as he ran his hand over her torso, tracing every dip and swell.
“Open your eyes.” He plucked at the thin strap of her top. “I want to make you feel good.”
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open—and then she let out a startled scream, flinching back against the bed as she clawed at him in a panic.
Fuck. “No, no, no,” he crooned, reaching for her now-flailing wrists. “Relax, blue jay. It’s just me. Don’t be afraid. It’s me. It’s Nick. Just Nick.”
(You didn’t think she’d be having nightmares, did you, boy?
I bet she dreams of you)
Her body went limp beneath his—surrender, but not the kind he wanted. “N-Nick?” The whites of her eyes were overly large in the dark, even as her heaving breaths began to slow. She twisted experimentally in his grip and he relaxed his fingers. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” He bent to kiss her and felt her mouth soften beneath his. So soft, like crushing velvet. Groaning, he slid his hand into her sleep-tangled hair. “Kiss me back.”
Jay turned her head to the side, much to his frustration. “You’ve been acting strange all day. First, you wouldn’t stop staring at me at dinner. And now—” She realized her sweatshirt was open and covered herself, even though she was wearing a camisole beneath it. “What iswrongwith you?”
“I don’t want to fight right now.” The words brushed against her mouth. “Just fuck me.”
Jay growled at him and pushed at his chest, which made him pin her wrists down again. “I’m being serious,” she hissed. “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this.”
“Well, if you’reserious,” he whispered hotly, “turn the light fucking light on and I’ll stop.” He freed her right hand, leaningback to look at her face. “You have long arms. I know you can reach the lamp, if you really want to.” He laced his fingers through the ones on her trapped hand. “But I think you just want to be fucked.”
She shoved at him again, deliberately, and he pushed down with his hips, grinding her into the mattress. Jay made a noise that made him laugh and knot his fingers through her hair.
