That was a scary thought. He left it behind and went to the kitchen to scrabble for food. He didn’t cook much but his housekeeper sometimes left him things and there was always fruit.
Five minutes later, he was carrying a big tray out onto the balcony, pleased with what he was able to scrounge up. A big plate of grapes, a couple of slices of cheese that, miraculously, had no mold on them. Half a loaf of frozen whole wheat bread he nuked in the microwave.
Two stem glasses and a bottle of really good Chilean sauvignon blanc. She’d know how to pronounce it. He placed the tray on the wrought-iron-and-glass table outside and debated whether to turn on the outside terrace lights. It was dark outside, maybe around midnight. They’d had sex for three hours straight. He switched on one of the halogen lights, just enough for them to see the food by, not enough for a boat out on the ocean to see what they were doing.
Sam looked out over the dark ocean, then down at himself, at his boner that simply wouldn’t quit. He had plenty of stamina but after a couple of hours, he was ordinarily ready to call it quits. Drive the lady home. Relax.
He wasn’t anywhere near that point with Nicole. Couldn’t even imagine it.
He was in deepest shit, he reflected, as he went back into the bedroom to carry her out to the terrace.
SIX
San Diego
Early morning
June 29
The sky had turned pewter,a shade lighter than the ocean that still carried the darkness of the night.
Nicole opened one eye, then closed it quickly.
Eyes closed, she tried to process what she’d seen.
A train wreck, that’s what she’d seen.
She opened her eyes each morning to her calm, orderly bedroom, with the four-poster that she’d slept in in seven countries, with its French lace canopy and Frette sheets. The seventeenth-century armoire and eighteenth-century Italianmadia.The vases with fresh flowers, the ceramic bowls of potpourri, the big Baccarat crystal vase full of multicolored sand. Her mother’s lovely watercolors and a collection of photographs taken by an old school friend who was now one of the top fashion photographers in the world.
Everything in its place. Cool and quiet and neat, exactly as she liked it.
This room looked like it had been at war, particularly the bed. She looked down at herself, naked, one leg trapped by the powerful, hairy leg of an equally naked man. A man with hormones instead of blood, she’d swear.
Sam Reston did not have an “off” button. He’d finally stopped a few hours ago because she was ready to go into a coma, after too many orgasms to count.
Time out, she’d gasped, and he’d laughed and slowly pulled out of her, the act so sexy she’d mourned the absence of his penis immediately, though she’d been the one to call a halt. He’d disappeared for a moment and come back with two glasses of chilled white wine and a plate of ripe grapes.
Even after dinner, even after the impromptu midnight picnic on the terrace, she’d been ravenous. Nonstop sex, it appeared, was an appetite stimulant, in more ways than one.
As she sipped the wine, she couldn’t help but give an admiring look at him sitting beside her, muscles bulging as he fed her grapes, big, thick, erect penis dark, engorged with blood, twitching when she looked at it.
She’d glanced at his lap then looked away again, but she could feel the flush rising from her breasts to her face. She thought she’d stopped blushing in her teens, but apparently not. Close proximity to Sam Reston made the blood pound through her body, rise to her face, color her nipples deep pink.
He’d looked at her,reallylooked at her, from her flushed breasts, the left one moving slightly with the hard pulses of her heart, the vein beating in her neck, the pearls of moisture in her pubic hair, a mixture of his semen and her excitement.
His eyes had lifted to hers and her entire body thrummed. But it was like asking a car to start on fumes, after having been pedal-to-the-metal running straight through every molecule of gas in the tank. She was sore all over, particularly her sex, and the desire she felt was only a faint echo of the all-consuming drive to have him in her she’d felt all night in his bed.
There it was. She’d hit her own personal wall. Finally. It had been a night of excess that had astonished her, but she had her limits and she’d reached them.
Sam had moved his free hand to her knee, cupping it, narrowed dark eyes burning into hers. He’d brought his mouth to her ear.
“Nicole?” The deep voice had been like a caress. How incredibly sexy it had sounded in her ear while he’d been moving heavily inside her. Her stomach clenched at the memory.
Oh God, he was ready for another round. How could he? With a sigh, Nicole realized she wasn’t being fair. She’d nearly crawled into his skin up until now, matching him heat for heat. If she’d reached the end of her rope, and he hadn’t, it wasn’t his fault.
“Lie down,” he’d said softly.
Heart pounding, she let her back settle on the mattress. How to do this? Maybe she could psych herself up for another round.
