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“Were you glad you waited so long?”
“It wasn’t my choice to wait. It was his. I was ready and willing much younger than that. But I’m glad that it mattered as much to him as it did to me. I think you’ll make some girl very happy one of these days. For your sake I hope she’s waited for you, too.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t want to be with another virgin?” she asked, utterly shocked.
“No way. I’d like at least one of us to know what we’re doing.”
“It’s not that hard to figure out, I promise. You just kiss her,” she said, dropping a kiss on the center of Wesley’s back, “anywhere and everywhere you want to kiss her and touch her anywhere and everywhere you want to touch her. And when she’s wet and ready you spread her legs open wide and slowly push inside her and—”
“Stop, Nor.” She could hear the strain in his voice.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget I’m not in one of my own books.”
“It’s okay,” he said a little breathlessly. He curled up around the pillow and pulled his legs into his chest. “It’s just…you’re… I’m…”
“Turned on? I know you are. Your accent gets thicker when you get—”
“Nora, please.”
“You can tell me, Wes.”
“Yes,” he confessed. “Very. I’m sorry. Just give me a few minutes to think about my dead grandmother and I’ll be okay.”
“Can I help you?”
“I don’t think so. You never met my dead grandmother.”
Nora laughed. “That’s not what I was thinking. Here, just relax. Best thing to do is just get it out of your system.” She put her hand on his side.
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” Wesley said with vehemence.
“I know. I’ve met my virgin deflowering quota for the day anyway. Just think of it as a tension-relieving massage.” Nora slipped her hand under his pajama pants and caressed his hip. She tapped him where she knew his tattoo was. “Or I could blow your bugle.”
Wesley laughed and groaned at the same time.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, although she could hear the need in his voice.
“Then I’ll stop. Or I’ll continue. Just tell me what you want.”
“I want to be able to sleep on my stomach at some point tonight.”
“I’ll take that as a yes then. Okay?” Nora waited, certain he would say no and send her back to her room.
Wesley took a hard breath.
“Okay.”
“Really?” she asked.
“You really told Søren no because of me?” he asked.
Nora didn’t have to lie when she answered a quiet, “Yes.”
“Then yes. But no bugle blowing.”
“Spoilsport.” Suddenly Nora found herself feeling something she hadn’t felt in months, maybe even years—nervous. She let her hand slip over the hard plane of Wesley’s flat stomach, and she could feel the outline of all his muscles. She moved lower and found him. Wrapping her hand around him, she stroked upward.
“God,” he whispered as his whole body shivered.
“You’ve never even let anyone touch you before?” She ran her fingers slowly up and down his hard length.
He shook his head.
“No.”
She took him with her whole hand and smiled as he flinched with pleasure. Pressing her body into his back, she kissed only his neck although she ached to kiss all of him.
“You’re insanely hard,” she said, almost laughing. “You were working on the world’s worst case of blueballs.”
“Tell me about it.” She could hear Wesley trying to be flippant but his voice sounded bated and breathy. She ran her hand from the base to the tip of him; it took a very long time to get there. Not only did she have a gorgeous virgin in her house, but she had an extremely well-endowed one. Yet another thing Wesley and Søren had in common. She closed her eyes and imagined she could hear God laughing at her from on high.
“Wes, forgive the reference to your family’s favorite animal, but you’re hung like a horse.”
“Really?” He sounded pleasantly surprised.
“Definitely.” Still stunned by this incredible intimacy Wesley was allowing, Nora tried to keep her voice calm. “Probably a good thing if you never try sex with a virgin. You’d kill the poor girl.”
“I think you’re about to kill me,” he breathed. She loved hearing his voice so hoarse and desperate.
Nora turned her hand again and ran just her fingertips up and down him, grinning as Wesley’s breath caught in his throat and his shoulders heaved. She wanted to pretend it was only a massage, but she couldn’t stop herself from imagining him inside her, filling her body with his, coming inside her, being his first lover. She forced the image away and focused on Wesley again.
“Wesley, I can do this all night. That doesn’t mean you have to. You can come whenever you want.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“It’s just me. We’re best friends. You don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed, I promise. Just relax. Come for me,” she said, unable to stop giving orders even with Wesley.
Nora tightened her grip slightly and moved her hand faster. Wesley started breathing even harder. His back arched and she heard him inhale sharply. His whole body shuddered for a long time. Nora nearly gasped aloud at the intensity of his orgasm as her own inner muscles contracted with frustrated desire. While he breathed through the climax she held him before reluctantly letting him go. Grabbing a pair of his abandoned boxer shorts off the floor, she handed them to him. He said nothing as he cleaned himself off and tossed the wet boxers aside.
“Better?” she asked.
“Yeah, better,” he said, still panting a little. “Humiliated but better.”
Nora laughed and draped her arm over his chest.
“Wes, turn over.” Nora could sense Wesley’s unwillingness to obey. But he finally gave in and flipped back over. He lay on his side again face-to-face with her. She was relieved to see his eyes were as wide and innocent and unsullied as ever.
She placed her hand on his bare chest right over his heart.
“I’m going to tell you something that is completely true,” she said. “And you’re going to believe it’s true. And then we’re both going to go to sleep.”
“I’m listening.”
“It meant as much to me as it did to you,” she said and she did mean it.
Wesley nodded. “Okay, I believe you.”
Nora smiled at him, and he smiled back.
“Now go to sleep. On your stomach now if you’d like.”
“Good night, Nora,” he said and pushed her still damp hair off her face.
“Good night, John-Boy.”
Nora kissed him quick on the cheek and rolled over onto her side away from him. She tensed as Wesley reached out and pulled her back against his chest. It took her a moment to even believe he lay so close, that their bodies were shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. She settled in against him and let him hold her.
After a few minutes his breathing settled, slowing down until his breaths matched hers. He lay quiet for so long she thought he’d fallen asleep.
“I thought you’d be with Zach tonight,” Wesley said.
Nora found his hand and wrapped her fingers around his.
“No. I’m with you tonight.”
24
Zach spent the entire morning on the phone discussing the details of contracts and upcoming projects at Royal’s West Coast office. The meetings would normally have been rather enjoyable and interesting, but with Nora and last night’s events on his mind, he couldn’t concentrate. He rattled off information by rote, all the while thinking about how a few hours ago, he’d been wandering around New York’s most infamous underground S&M club with a Catholic priest and the son of John Fiske, the city’s most powerful financier. And then afterward in the car with Nora… He could still remember what she felt like on his fingers and how close he’d been to sliding inside her. Now in the Tuesday afternoon daylight, Zach had trouble believing it was real. He only had Nora as proof—Nora who seemed to pass from his world and into her world and back with frightening ease.
Meetings finally over, Zach got to sit down at his own desk in front of his computer. He discovered that he had twenty-five new pages from Nora and the promise of more to come.
I got up early this morning, Nora wrote. I was sleeping with Wes and he had an eight o’clock class. Microbiology at 8 fucking a.m.? Now that’s sadism.
You slept with your virgin intern last night? Zach replied after he read Nora’s email two more times to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. About fifteen minutes later Nora wrote back.
Don’t be jealous, darling. It was completely innocent. Well, mostly innocent. But you’ll have to excuse me while I get back to my homework. I’m not going to give you any excuse to pussy out on our deal.
I think I may live to regret those words, Zach wrote back.
You won’t regret a thing once I’m done with you. Now leave me alone. I’m Papa Hemingway today.
Nora was the opposite of Hemingway in every possible way. For one thing, she couldn’t write terse prose if she had a gun to her head. For another, Zach actually enjoyed reading Nora’s books.
Hemingway was the king of understatement, economy of words and brevity. Are you sure you of all people want to use him as a model? Zach replied.
Nora’s next email was answer enough.
Yes.
Zach was still laughing when J.P. came into his office.
“Smiling and laughter? This hall hasn’t seen nearly as much fog lately,” J.P. said. “Do we have a certain writer to thank for this astonishing change of weather?”
“We were discussing Hemingway.”
“Yes, a comic genius that Hemingway. How’s Sutherlin’s book coming?”
“Very well. We’ve got two and a half weeks left and two hundred pages to rewrite, but if she keeps up the pace, we’ll get it done right before I leave.”
“Tight schedule there, Easton. That’s a lot of quantity to expect a great deal of quality.”
“She can do both. She has drive and a strong incentive to get the book finished.”
“Yes, her unsigned contract’s still hanging over her head, isn’t it?”
Zach smiled and leaned back in his chair. It felt shockingly good to smile like that, like he had a wicked secret that was his to keep or tell. This must be what Nora felt every time she smiled.
J.P. must have seen the secret in the smile.
“It’s not just the contract that’s keeping her working so hard, is it?” J.P. said, stroking his beard with an amused twinkle in his eye.
“We’re not sleeping together. Haven’t so much as kissed her.” He omitted the office floor incident and last night in the car. Technically, they hadn’t kissed, not on the lips anyway.
“You can do a lot without bothering with kissing. I was young once.”
“Thanks to Nora I have enough disturbing images in my head to last two lifetimes. Please do not add to them.”
“At this point,” J.P. began, standing up, “I don’t really care how you get the book finished. Just get it finished before you go to L.A. and without getting on Page Six, and I’ll be the happiest man on the face of the earth. You are still going to L.A., aren’t you?”
Zach paused. Of course he was going to L.A. Wasn’t he? Then again, leaving New York meant leaving Nora. Leaving London had meant leaving Grace—he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to leave like that again. “Yes, I’m going to L.A. It’s all about the book, J.P.” Zach said.
“Keep telling yourself that, Easton,” J.P. said. He turned around and threw a small wrapped box to Zach. “You’ve got another present, by the way.”
Zach caught the box and sighed. His office prankster had continued sending little kinky presents every few days. With some trepidation, Zach opened it. He pulled out the contents and furrowed his brow at them. They looked something like clip-on silver earrings, lightweight and dangling. Hardly kinky at all. Was his prankster teasing him about cross-dressing? Zach put the earrings back in the box and stuffed the box in his messenger bag, not sure what else to do with them. He’d let Nora have them if she liked them.
He pulled her contract out of his top desk drawer and flipped through it again. He picked up a pen and thought about signing it. He could sign it now and not tell her; then when the book was finished, he could show her how much faith he’d had in her all along. A slight exaggeration considering how loath he was to work with her in the beginning, but he knew she would be touched.
Zach thought about J.P.’s question again. Was he still going to L.A.? Why wouldn’t he? The chief managing editor position was the reason he took the job at Royal after all. He said he was going and he would go. And he said he wouldn’t sign Nora’s contract until he read the last page and he wouldn’t. And when he told Nora they couldn’t sleep together until they were done working together, he meant it.
He refolded the contract with a clear conscience and stuffed it in his messenger bag.
* * *
Thoughts of Zach kept intruding on Nora’s writing. She desperately wanted to get her chapters done even though she knew she had too much work to play with him tonight. Then again, just because she was too busy for Zach didn’t mean he was off the hook entirely. Nora picked up her phone and had the number she needed after one call.
The phone rang twice before a nervous voice answered.
“Yes, hello?” the girl on the other end said.
“Hello, little bird. Guess who?”
Nora smiled at the gasp she heard on the other end of the line. Kingsley had fantastic taste in the women of his coterie these days. He never cared if they could afford the membership dues as long as they had other ways of earning their keep. Invariably, Kingsley’s ladies-in-waiting all had very useful talents inside and outside the bedroom.
“Told you I’d remember your name, Robin. King told me about your day job. Do you have an hour or two to do a favor for me today? I’m an excellent tipper.”
“Anything for you, mistress.”
Nora gave the girl her instructions and hung up the phone. She forced thoughts of Zach aside and got back to writing.
* * *
Zach checked his watch—almost five-thirty. He’d been on the phone for the past two hours with his soon-to-be assistant at the West Coast offices. They’d been discussing upcoming projects when Mary buzzed him with news of a visitor.
“Come in.” A young woman he didn’t recognize entered with a large tote bag and a rolling table.
“Mr. Easton? Nice to see you again,” she said.
“Have we met?” Zach asked, standing up.
“Yes, I’m Robin. We met last night.”
“Of course, from the—”
“The club.” She cut him off before he said the 8th Circle’s name.
Zach did recognize her now. Out of her costume and with her hair up and wearing retro-chic glasses, she looked like a very different person from the provocatively dressed cigarette girl.
“Right. The club. What can I do for you?”
The girl turned and closed his office door, locking it behind her.
“You can take your clothes off, Mr. Easton.”
An hour and a half later Zach shut the door behind Robin and sank into his chair. He was glad she’d come late enough in the day that almost everyone had already left. He’d been reluctant at first but a professional massage was a gift impossible to refuse. The girl had marvelous hands and she spent well over an hour working out every single knot of tension in his entire body. His muscles felt as loose as a sea anemone. He owed Nora a huge thank-you for arranging the massage. Since she wasn’t quite allowed to put her hands on him yet, she’d obviously gone looking for a loophole and found one.
Zach stretched his arms and enjoyed how calm he felt, how peaceful. It had been over a year and a half at least since he’d felt even remotely this relaxed. His marriage to Grace had begun as a nightmare but had turned quickly into his best dream. But like any dream, it couldn’t be trusted. Something dark always lurked around the corner in dreams. And one day that something dark started showing itself even while he was wide-awake. Grace started conversations with him, terrifying conversations he refused to finish. And then something had happened with her, or maybe it had happened with him. All he knew was Grace had started to fade out on him and there’d been nothing he could do. She just slowly shut down on him like a watch someone forgot to wind.
Having Robin’s hands on him had been such a strange revelation. He’d shared with Nora an incredible sexual intimacy the night they’d gotten drunk in her office and then last night in her Aston Martin. But just to be touched by another woman, to have his back touched, his arms and legs…to be touched in a way that was sensual but not sexual felt as foreign to him as that night with Nora. Foreign but not frightening. He wondered if he saw Grace again, would he be able to be more open to her than before? He’d love to touch her the way Robin had touched him. He’d love to teach her a few of the things he’d learned from Nora.
The phone rang and Zach smiled. He had one guess who would be calling his office this late in the evening.
“Nora, you’re the very devil,” he said as he put the phone to his ear. “But I’m not complaining.”
Zach heard a slight intake of breath on the other end of the line followed by a static-filled pause.
“Zachary?” came a voice he would recognize a thousand miles or a thousand years away.
Zach sat up ramrod straight; his heart raced. Everything that had been relaxed a moment ago became a live wire of tension again.
“Grace…” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were one of my writers. Nora Sutherlin—she’s a loony. I think you’d like her. But I’m rambling like an idiot. How are you?”
He lived and died through another terrible pause.
“You’ve never rambled like an idiot in your life,” Grace said in her lilting Welsh accent, and Zach could picture the smile on her face as she said it. “I’ve never heard you so friendly with one of your writers before. You’re usually telling them what berks and idiots they are. This one must be special.”
“She’s stark raving mad, and I’m terrified of her. How are you?” he asked again and winced. He really was making an idiot of himself.
“I’m in the dark, quite literally, I’m afraid. I just walked in the door and all the lights are out. I can’t find the torch anywhere. I’m just glad I had my mobile with me.”
“Is it a blackout or just our house?” Zach winced again. Was he even allowed to say “our house” anymore?
“Blackout, I think. The whole street is dark. I called the power company. Should be on again by morning, but until I find the bloody torch, I’m afraid to move.”
Zach imagined Grace sitting at the kitchen table in the dark debating whether or not it was enough of an emergency to call him. She said she’d just gotten home. But it was nearly midnight in London. He didn’t want to imagine where she’d come from.
“Let me think. Did you try the drawer?”
“By the stove? Yes, I looked there first. Found everything but the light.”
“No, it isn’t there. You’re right. It’s in the cupboard in the utility room. I remember stashing it there now.”
“I’ll check.”
“Be careful.”
Zach heard Grace’s tentative footsteps and the sound of a door opening.
“Found it. Second shelf near the back.”
“Good,” Zach said, desperate to find a way to keep her on the line a little longer. “Be careful if you light any candles.”
“I will be,” Grace replied, a faint note of amusement in her voice.
“If the lights don’t come on soon, stay the night at—” Zach stopped and swallowed. “Stay with a friend. If the lights are off, the alarm might be, as well.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive the night.” He heard the smile in her voice. “If I need more help, I’ll ring you again.”
“Please do.” Zach rubbed his face. “Did you need me? Need anything else?”
Zach heard that pause again. He needed her. He needed her to say she loved him, or that she hated him, or that she wanted a divorce or wanted him back or wanted him dead or wanted him home right now rescuing her from the dark like any good husband would. He needed something from her because he could not and would not go on like this anymore.
“No,” Grace finally said. “I have the torch now. Thanks again.”
“Sure. Right then,” Zach said, his stomach falling and taking his heart with it. “Of course.”
Zach didn’t hang up the phone. He held his breath and listened, waiting for that awful little click. When it came he flinched as if he’d heard a gunshot. He held the buzzing receiver until the line died and then finally hung it up.
25
Nora woke up on Thursday morning with a smile on her face. She dressed in her favorite suit—her business kink black skirt, her knee-high black boots and a white blouse with a black tie. She heard a whistle as she walked past Wesley’s door.
“Did you just whistle at me, young man?” Nora asked, pausing in Wesley’s doorway.
“I did,” he said as he stuffed his laptop into his backpack. “Where are you going today looking so nice?”
Nora came close to blushing. She knew Wesley was attracted to her. He was nineteen, after all, and she wasn’t hideous. But he always tried to treat her as just a friend and roommate. But since their intimate encounter Monday night, he’d been more playful with her, more flirtatious. She was starting to like it.
“I’m going to Kingsley’s.” Wesley’s smile faded. “To tell him I’m quitting.”
The smile came back.
“Zach signed the contract?” Wesley looked so happy and hopeful it broke her heart.
“Not yet. But he will.”
Wesley came over to her with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked so cute and young right now with his baseball cap on his shaggy hair that she wanted to throw him down on his bed and put her tie to better use.
“I’ve gotta get to class. But maybe we can hang out later today. We should celebrate you quitting your job.”
“What did you have in mind?” Nora stepped closer to him. In her heels she was tall enough to kiss him.
Wesley leaned close and put his mouth to her ear. “I was thinking…we could…”
Nora held her breath.
“…rent a movie.” Wesley slapped her playfully on her bottom and brushed past her.
“Sadist!” she yelled out and took a breath, her heart racing. The door opened and closed and Wesley’s car started. She tried to remember what she was doing. Kingsley—that was it.
Nora drove the Aston Martin to one of Manhattan’s oldest and most elegant town houses. It wasn’t just a private home but the headquarters of New York’s most thriving underground business. She handed the keys to the doorman and climbed the front staircase to the third floor. Striding down the hallway, she went through the double doors at the end without knocking.
Four huge black Rottweilers charged at her.
“Down, kids.” She laughed as she petted the massive beasts.
“Brutus, Dominic, Sadie, Max, down,” the man behind the desk ordered tiredly and snapped his fingers. All four dogs sat and stared up at Nora as if waiting for her to countermand the order.
Nora left the whimpering dogs by the door and headed to the ebony desk. Behind it reclined a man she knew no one would believe owned such a posh establishment. He’d pulled his long dark hair into a low ponytail tied with a black silk ribbon. He wore a stylishly rumpled black Victorian-era suit with a long tail and a black vest with silver buttons. His cravat was carelessly tied but that was nothing unusual. On his feet he wore his signature black riding boots. He looked like a handsomely roguish pirate someone forced into a suit and acted liked one, too—the one and only Kingsley Edge in person.
“I was at the window when you pulled up.” He paused and sipped his cocktail. “You drove the Martin, maîtresse. You really are a tease.” He didn’t so much speak as he allowed words to saunter out of his mouth.