Sine Qua Non

Chapter Eight

I love you.

Three simple words. He had forgotten how good they felt to hear, coming from someone who meant everything. Someone who knew all of your sins and accepted them—and you—anyway.

Nicholas sighed and worked his shoulders. Her bed was ridiculously small. He’d spent most of the night with his back against the wall, keeping his legs bent so they wouldn’t dangle off the edge of her twin. Jay was curled against him, with her face buried in the crook of his arm. Her hair was spilling over her shoulder, brushing his nose. It still smelled like her shampoo.

Her cat was balled up behind his knees, its purring the only sound in the room.

Can you love me, Jay? He wondered, broodingly. Or is that why you can never bring yourself to look me in the eyes when we fuck?

Wherever she’d been mentally last night, it hadn’t fully been with him. Even after he’d gently cleaned her with a damp towel, and combed his fingers through the tangled locks of her hair, there had been an absent look on her face. It reminded him of the first time, when she’d frozen him out, too horrified by what they had done to even look at him.

That familiar coldness took root in his chest. “I didn’t mean it,” he had said, feeling clumsy as he spoke into the silence. “What I said about the picture, and the office.”

Jay didn’t respond.

He leaned forward, cupping her throat in his hand, one of his fingers pressed against her lips. She let out a ragged gasp as he forced one of his knees between her legs, shifting until she was cradling all of him between her rounded thighs. “I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know.” The words were hollow and far from reassuring.

That icy sensation sharpened, becoming knife-like. “Are you all right?”

It took her a moment to speak. Maybe she wasn’t sure if he meant now , or before . He wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, either. Only that he desperately wanted the answer.

He felt the cords of her throat shift beneath his fingers as she sighed and fell back against him in the dark. “You didn’t let me finish.”

It took him a moment to understand, because for once, sex was the farthest thing from his mind. But then he did, and then his hips became a cradle of heat.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

With a grunt, he leaned over and groped for his jeans, fishing out the condom he kept in his wallet. She was as smooth as glass when he entered her, and when he reached around her hips to keep her spread open around his thrusting cock so he could massage her clit, she was already wet.

The marks she’d left on his arms still stung.

His eyes flicked past her now-sleeping form to his phone, which he’d set on her “nightstand” of precariously stacked hardcovers. It was on silent but the screen was lighting up with alerts.

More emails, he thought, threading his fingers through her tangled hair until they caught while he leaned forward to grab it. Every time someone at Beaucroft Assets took a shit, someone CC’d him on an email informing him about it. The CEO of that “family” company had folded, though, just like he’d known they would.

Everyone always did if you waited long enough.

Nicholas looked at Jay again, her face mostly angled away from him. He released the lock of hair he’d been toying with and slid carefully over her hips before vaulting from the bed.

The cat stretched and joined him.

He looked around her room, surprised by how small it was. Half-bedroom, half-kitchen, it wasn’t even half the size of his garage. There was a line of mismatched fake plants on her dresser and a pile of fake chenille blankets in the corner. In case she got cold, he supposed.

Impulsively, he snapped one open and draped it over her bare shoulders.

Walking over to his backpack, he pulled out a pair of shorts. As he tugged them over his hips, his wandering eye caught on a photo collage, faded from age. He scowled at the image of a younger Jay with a short Latino man. The waiter, probably. His arm was draped possessively around her waist and she was hunching, trying to look shorter.

Did you fuck him with the lights off, too?

Her cat sped past his legs as he walked into the kitchen area. Her fridge had an ancient box of baking soda that had probably come with this dump and a few bottles of half-empty vegan hot sauce, but not much else. There were takeout cartons in the trash and a bottle of wine, but it didn’t look like she’d been eating much. The only thing in the pantry was a single can of corn.

He couldn’t imagine living this way, in a room so small that there was barely room to hear yourself think, dimly lit, filled with the constant blare of noise from the streets.

It was fucking unconscionable. She’d thrown him over for this ?

That’s how much she despised you , that voice in his head whispered. She’d have rather lived like this, than with you.

Nicholas shook that voice off and yanked on his T-shirt. She wasn’t going to live like that now. He couldn’t make this place any less of a shithole, but he could get some decent food into her. He popped in his earbuds and shoved his wallet into the back pocket of his shorts. It took him a moment to find her keys. He eventually located them in a small ceramic dish shaped like a cabbage leaf. The sight of it put a catch in his throat.

She had a life here and I was never intended to be part of it.

There were several grocery stores nearby, according to his phone. As he walked out of her complex, he nearly hit an older man lurking around out front. The man looked at him and then quickly away, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his blazer as he headed down the street.

Nicholas eyed him frowningly, watching as he disappeared around the corner.

With metal cranked up in his ears, he jogged along the city streets, dodging pedestrians. The morning air was clear and sharp, carrying with it unpleasant smells he didn’t care to know the origins of. Did Jay take this path—alone? Homeless people were shooting up in the middle of the public square and every second building seemed to have a dull, tired cast to it. Most of them had bars over the doors and windows. So did Jay’s apartment.

When he’d first hired that PI, the first thing he’d wanted to know was whether or not she was living alone. If he could find that out, anyone could.

He slowed as he approached the corner store. It was awash in grayish fluorescent lights and had a smell like old dishwater. 70s pop was playing from the speakers overhead. Nicholas grabbed whatever he thought he might have seen Jay eating before, reading the labels before dropping them into the basket. The little nerd had harped enough about gelatin and lard that he felt like he was basically vegan, once removed. As he went down the health aisle, he picked up a box of condoms.

(I don’t know how to love someone)

He was scowling by the time he dropped his basket on the conveyor belt and began unloading. The cashier bushed when she scanned his items, unable to look him in the face after she put the box of condoms in the bag. “Did you, ah, find everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Thanks.”

“Have a good morning,” she said, clearly by rote, before making a panicked face as she clearly realized just how good his morning might be about to be.

It almost made him smile.

Nicholas slung the bag over his wrist and headed back to Jay’s apartment. The homeless people were still there, much to his consternation, and now there was a man playing jazz on a sax. A regular fucking Broadway, this streetcorner. All it was missing was a siren.

Jay’s apartment was like a bubble of silence after those impossibly loud streets. She was still asleep, hugging the pillow in a way he found very sweet. Did I wear you out, little bird? He set a bottle of water on the nightstand, studying her sleeping face, and wondering what to do.

He had his plan regarding her career. And as for her mother, she had to be stopped. They weren’t children anymore and they could do as they damn well pleased. It was his fucking house, not hers, and so was everything inside it.

Including her daughter.

Whatever leverage Danielle thought she had over Jay was gone.

He’d be the one to take care of her now. And as soon as they got back to Hollybrook, he was going to make sure Jay knew that.

The only family they needed was each other.

*****

Jay woke up alone.

She wondered, with a sick bolt of dread, if she’d dreamed last night’s encounter. Just thinking about it— I love you —made her squirm in discomfort. Groaning, she sat up and realized as soon as she felt the muted throb in her lower belly that the discomfort wasn’t entirely due to her imagination.

Shit , she thought.

Her eyes flicked to the other side of the bed. He was gone, but he’d come back long enough to leave a bottle of Evian on the stack of books that served as her nightstand. She uncapped it, noticing that there was a folded shirt on his side of the bed. When she unfurled it, she recognized it as the one he’d been wearing last night.

She traced the peeling logo on the front—Avenged Sevenfold—before pulling it over her head. The scent of him suffused her senses; he’d been wearing the same aftershave since he was a teenager and the sharpness of it sliced through her thoughts like pith.

(You’ve been a bad girl and now I’m going to fuck you like one)

The sound of her bathroom door opening made her look up sharply as Nicholas padded out as comfortably as if this apartment was his. He was sweaty, like he’d been running, wearing mesh shorts and a snug T-shirt that was nearly sheer where the white material plastered against his skin.

He hadn’t noticed she was awake yet. Music was blasting from his earbuds and she thought she could make out who it was even at this distance. She was pretty sure she even knew the song: it had been one of his favorites to fuck her to.

She watched, incredulously, as he went right to her fridge and began loading things into it from a plastic bag. That propelled her into motion, walking across the room so quickly that it nearly left her dizzy as she tapped insistently at his arm.

He straightened up in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

It came out accusatory. She hadn’t meant it to. Luckily, he hadn’t seemed to have heard, eyes dropping to her legs in an automatic once-over as he pulled the buds out of his ears.

“Hmm?”

Jay repeated herself, resisting the urge to step out of reach when he leaned over the barrier of the fridge door. The front of his shirt was a near-transparent veil. Beneath the clingy material, she could make out the shadow of his chest hair.

“I asked what you were doing.”

“You didn’t have any food. I went ahead and took care of that for you.” Drops of sweat scattered from his hair as he shook his head. Wet, the dark strands had a slight curl to them. “What have you been eating? Your fridge was empty.”

“I’ve been getting takeout,” she said defensively.

He raised one eyebrow. “Just takeout?”

“Not that I need to justify my purchases to a literal billionaire but I didn’t see the point in buying groceries when I was just going to be leaving again.”

She saw his eyes flick to the trashcan and wondered, with a flash of anger, if he’d gone through it. If he had noticed the empty bottle of wine and the very discernible lack of takeout cartons.

“You should have woken me. This isn’t the best area and your watch is expensive. People prey on rich boys like you.”

His face, which had started out stern, relaxed into something approximating amusement as he closed the door with a decisive click and sidled closer, propping his fist against the wall over her head. Her eyes went to his arm, which wasn’t quite barring her escape, and then to his face. A lock of hair had fallen into his eyes and shifted distractingly every time he blinked.

“Are you worried about me, blue jay? That’s so sweet.”

Jay hiked her chin up. “You could have gotten mugged.”

He laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“I was mugged. The day you barged into my office, someone snatched my purse. And then you came in and I—” Jay broke off, not finishing. But she thought, You brought it all back.

All traces of humor vanished instantly from his face. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Why would I?”

There was a leaden pause as he took that in. Then he made a bitter sound. “I see.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Although she had, a tiny bit. When he had first brought her to his home, she had been determined to give him as little of herself as possible.

He already fucked her like he owned her; she didn’t want him to walk away thinking that he actually did. Not when he held so much else over her head.

From a very young age, this man had been raised to be a wolf in a room of sheep. Everything about him spoke of power, whether he was in the boardroom or the bedroom. Part of that was in the way he carried himself, but most of it was thinking that the world was his to own if he could open his jaws wide enough to devour it.

A sulky expression was stealing over his face. It made him look less like an entitled billionaire and more like a pissed off teenager, and she found herself softening in spite of herself.

Oh, Nick.

She reached up and smoothed the lock of hair that was bothering her out of his eyes, and he stared at her in a way that would have made her laugh if she didn’t already want to cry.

“Thanks for doing the shopping, you idiot.”

“I said I’d take care of you.” His eyelids shuttered as she trailed her fingers down his unshaven jaw and she felt him lean into her touch. When he looked at her like that, with those downcast eyes, she felt hunted. “I meant it.”

She flinched a little. “I can’t afford to depend on people.”

“Normal people do, blue jay.” His strong fingers stroked over her knuckles, coaxing them flat as he brought her hand to the broad plane of his chest. “It’s like a leap of faith.”

She watched him carefully. “You know, we’ve never really talked about finances, religion, family. That’s something people usually discuss before they get married.”

“So?”

“So, don’t you want a family? Your values were always more traditional than mine and I don’t want kids.”

“I know. That doesn’t matter to me.”

“How would you know that?” Jay demanded. “I know I never told you.”

“You wouldn’t bring anyone else into a world that’s already broken your heart.”

Fuck . That stung and tears stabbed at her eyes with a blinding sharpness. She stepped back from him and hit the wall with a thud that reverberated throughout her entire body. “How fucking dare you,” she gasped out. “What do you know about heartbreak?”

He sighed. “Don’t cry, Jay.”

“ No . You do not get to say shit like that to me and then tell me not to cry.” Jay swiped at her eyes, wanting to storm out, to leave, but that was the problem with a small apartment like this. The only place to escape to was the bathroom—and he was blocking it with the body she couldn’t let herself look at, because it would mean having to admit that she wanted to.

“Why is this so hard?” she asked pathetically.

“It doesn’t have to be. It could just be . . . easy.”

Nicholas stepped closer and she froze, breathing a little harder. He gave her a minute, but it felt more like a cat toying with a mouse when he leaned in and slid his palm down her back, her hips, all the way to her ass.

“You look good in my clothes.”

Jay eyed him, wanting to be angry. He flicked the hem of his shirt, giving her a little teasing grin, and it was a tantalizing glimpse of what normal could look like, for them. No cruel games. No fronting. Just a man who looked at her as if she were his first glimpse of sun in a world of darkness.

(You have to come to me in the light)

Her face must have changed, because whatever he saw there made him put his fingers between her legs. She still wasn’t wearing underwear and he watched her suck in as he gently traced the swollen edges of her pussy, dipping just deep enough that there was no denying she was wet.

You hurt me , she thought, her breasts rising and falling beneath the peeling decal on his faded T-shirt. You hurt me and you made me like it, and I know you’re going to do it again.

His gaze dropped to her lips, which had already parted, but he was the first to pull away.

“Did you want to hang around here all day or are you going to show me the city?”

Jay swallowed around the catch in her throat as he absently wiped his fingers on his shorts. “Really? You want to see it? I—I thought you were here to drag me back to Hollybrook after fucking me to my senses.”

That made him frown and she almost regretted saying it. “I rented you that U-Haul for at least a week.” His eyes passed over her empty cabinets assessingly. “It looks like you’ve gotten most of it done already. I think you can afford to take a break.”

Jay didn’t want to admit that she owned so little, she’d barely even begun. She had already caught him glancing around in disbelief, like he thought she lived in a slum. “I wasn’t expecting to play tour guide but sure, I suppose I can think of some places to take you to.”

“Good, because you stood me up the last time I tried to show you a night out here.”

Jay gave him a harsh look, leaning away. “You were going to fuck me in your hotel.”

“Yeah, but I was going to buy you a really expensive dinner first.” His mouth shifted into what she could only describe as an obnoxious fuck-boy grin. “And lots of shots.”

“Charming.”

“I can be.” Nicholas gave her ass a light swat that had her drawing in a ragged breath. “I’m sure you’ll be a very satisfactory tour guide. Where do you usually go to have your fun?”

“Probably nowhere you’d be interested in, if Turkish nightclubs are your scene.” Jay tugged the shirt down defiantly. “I seem to remember you partying your way through most of high school, though, so this must be a natural progression.”

“And you used to do just about anything your friends told you to do.” His smile had a dangerous edge that made her heart beat faster. “You pounded the shots back, too, even if most of them did end up being water. And I remember everyone would stop to watch you dance.”

“Well, I don’t do that anymore,” Jay said sharply, aware of every point of contact between them. Of the heat pouring off his body like a furnace. The way the tackiness of his shirt made the fabric mold to his chest, showing every line of muscle, and— fuck . She took a step back, crowding against the wall. “I’ll take you to the art museum. Lily said they have an exhibit on ephemeral art.”

Nicholas watched her with obvious amusement. “I think the last time I went to a museum was for a fundraiser at the Getty. I was so busy dodging people with clipboards that I didn’t have time to look at the art.”

“I really doubt anyone’s going to be chasing you with a clipboard at the SFMoMa, unless it’s me and I’m beating you over the head with it.”

That made him swat her ass again. “We can go to your museum but if I have to look at a bunch of paint smears for an hour, we’re getting drunk at lunch and I get to stare at your ass as much as I want.”

“Oh my god, you are such a cultureless swine.”

“What? I have art at home.”

The sheer arrogance of those words made her jaw drop, and when he started laughing, she realized, with a furious blush, that he was trying to provoke her on purpose.

“Asshole.”

His smile became less teasing, more rapacious. “You owe me a slutty punishment dress for making me come down here to get you, by the way.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m putting you in something short and low-cut.” He kissed her, his hand coming up to cushion the back of her skull as he jostled her up against the wall. “I want to see leg.”

“I want to see leg,” Jay repeated. “Are you serious?”

“Daddy loves it when his cold little bird looks a little slutty.” He thrust his tongue into her mouth, squeezing the back of her neck. “It gets me hot.”

“What doesn’t?” Jay muttered, turning her face away. “You just enjoy tormenting me.”

“Just like how you enjoy begging me to do it.” Unbothered, he tugged at her shirt, making her scramble to hold it down over the front of her thighs. “Come shower with me.”

God , Jay thought dazedly. Who is this man? “It’s an old shower. You might be too tall for it.”

Nicholas flicked her tongue against her ear. “Then I’ll kneel.”

Jay nearly fell over when he released her.

Fuck , she thought.

*****

Nicholas had told himself that it was just sex that he wanted, but it was the moments before and after that he really craved: watching her comb out the tangles that he’d put in her hair by pulling on it, the feel of her fingers against his chest when she unbuttoned his shirt.

These little moments of forced tenderness were the closest he’d ever been to love.

One night when both their parents were out, he let himself into her room. She had been relaxing in bed with a book, though she shot bolt upright when she saw him. The way she covered herself, using the book as a shield, was like an arrow in his chest. The pain made him feel helpless, which made him angry.

“What do you want?” she asked, in an icy tone that didn’t quite hide the fact that her bare shoulders were shaking.

“Come shower with me. You don’t even have to fuck me,” he added, hating how much it sounded like pleading but too desperate to care. “Just wash my back while I get off.”

He could still remember the look of disgust on her face. He’d told himself it didn’t matter how she looked at him when her clothes were off. Not when she belonged to him in all the ways that mattered. But she hadn’t, not really. When he pulled her in for a kiss beneath the steaming spray, it was like kissing a statue of a girl. He’d taken everything from her but what he really wanted.

Nicholas peeled off his T-shirt, blinking away those memories of his younger self. They clung to his skin like a film as he took in the small shower stall with its mounted showerhead that didn’t appear to be adjustable. That was unfortunate. He’d planned to use it on her.

Jay worried at the hem of her shirt before yanking it off in a quick gesture. Blood immediately rushed to his cock, but he pretended at nonchalance as he fiddled with the knob of the shower. There was some kind of paint on it, to make it look like granite, but it was flaking off. Left for hot, right for cold. He cranked it to the left, lathering up some of her shampoo and running it through his hair the same way he had when she was at college and he had stolen into her room, desperate for a piece of her.

It still smells the same.

Jay slipped in beside him, her shoulders up to her ears. She appeared to be sucking in, like she was trying to make herself smaller, but she wouldn’t look at him. He could hear her breathing quicken every time his hard cock grazed her back.

He turned the water warmer, noting the goosebumps on her arms. The smell of apple freesia was heady as it rose up on soft clouds of steam, causing the baby hairs around her temples to frizz. Bending, he whispered, “Hot enough for you?”

Jay turned to look at him with one arm barred over her chest. Water clung to her long eyelashes, sliding down her cheeks like tears when she blinked. “It’s fine.”

“You know how I feel about fine.”

She flushed. “I remember,” she said stiffly.

Nicholas pulled her arm away from her body. “Are you sure?”

Her eyes immediately dropped from his and she turned back around to stare at the wall. His mouth pulled down, dissatisfied, as he took in the smooth, stiff lines of her back.

She’s afraid.

Jay let out a squeak when he put his hands on her shoulders. He waited a beat before fanning his fingers out, working his thumbs into the muscle until he felt her unkink. Standing as close as he was, he actually felt her shuddering sigh as he smoothed his hands down her arms.

“What . . . are you doing?” Her voice was a little high.

“Playing with you.” He drew her hair away from her nape and she tensed again as his cock rubbed against her ass. “You’re so skittish. Come back here.”

He looped his arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck, stroking the soft curve of her belly. A shiver wracked her body, causing water to cascade over them both as he partially unblocked the spray. “Nick,” she said, sounding frightened.

“Just relax while Daddy has his fun.” His bite had her arching, and her nipples were tight when he ran his hand possessively over her front. Playfully, he bumped her ass with his hip, and she yelped again before covering her own mouth in a way that made him laugh. “I promise I’m not going to fuck you.”

The breath she let out was unsteady as she reached for the shampoo. “Stop messing around.”

Nicholas relinquished his hold on her curvy waist, leaning back against the tile as he watched her lather the soap into her curls, breathing in the sweet steam. When she tilted her head back, tossing her damp hair over her shoulders as she rinsed, he said, casually, “Did you ever let your nice waiter boyfriend fuck you in the ass?”

Her fingers stumbled and she made a strange noise, like a backwards wheeze.

“No?” he said, satisfied. “Oh, good.”

Jay spun around to glare at him, which was a mistake on her part, because it gave him an unobstructed view of her body, and he was far from being too polite to stare.

“You are—” She shook her head angrily. “ Unbelievable .”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said lazily, watching her angry blush suffuse her cheekbones with pleasure. “Did you get all the soap out of your hair?”

Jay folded her arms. “Why?”

“I want you up against the wall.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to tongue-fuck that sour expression right off your cute little face.”

Her mouth fell open. For a moment, she was too flustered to respond. When he pushed off from the wall, she backed to the other side and began to stammer, “You c-can’t say things like that in here. My neighbors share a bathroom wall with me.”

It only took a single step to close the distance. “So?”

“So they can hear you,” she hissed up at him.

“Oh? You think your neighbors might find out how eager you are to ride my face with my fingers inside you? I think so, too.”

“Nicholas! They have children !” Her blush had migrated down to her chest. Apple-red and light brown, like polished jasper. Beautiful , he thought, and then his eyes dipped lower.

“Spread your fucking legs. Now.”

She gave him a defiant look but her legs edged just the slightest distance apart, and that was all the encouragement he needed to drop to his knees and shove her thighs the rest of the way open. Her angry little lecturing voice morphed into a whimper when he pulled her forward by the hips.

With a satisfied sound, he hitched one of her legs over his back and sealed his mouth over her. “Oh my god .” Her voice went faint as she canted towards him. “Nicholas—”

“Look at you, trying to climb my face. You always did love my mouth.”

She yanked his hair for that. Vicious little bird. He approved, rasping his tongue over the hood of her clit until the skin of her thighs trembled beneath his touch and she fell back against the tiled wall, panting, as hot water dripped over her bare skin like a clear coat of glistening paint.

He moved with her, giving her a fiery kiss that had the tension melting from her spine as his hand slid up her thigh to cup her ass in his palm. “Yes,” she moaned, “oh god, right there.”

With a sigh that made her tremble, he slid his fingers into her cunt and began pumping his hand in time to his mouth: slow strokes that nearly had her doubling over his shoulder with her arm looped around the back of his head. Her stomach muscles flexed as she struggled to breathe steadily, and all those little sounds she was making hummed right against his temple.

“If you keep moaning like that, everyone’s going to know what a slutty girl you are.” He pitched his voice low. “Your room number’s on your door. All your neighbors will find out exactly how the beautiful little whore in 215 likes to get fucked.”

“I don’t care .”

She bucked against him, as if for emphasis, and when he finished her off, she blew apart like one of those exploding stars from the documentaries that had used to make her cry.

“Fuck,” she panted, head tipping back. “ Oh —god— Nick —”

“ Yes .” He trailed kisses up to her navel. “You’re so pretty when you come for Daddy.”

Her fingers clenched and then relaxed against his skull, the tight grip yielding to a gentle sweep that put an unnamed ache in the back of his throat.

“Tell me what you are.”

“Your bird.”

“Mine,” he agreed, the word dark and possessive as he pressed his cheek against her belly.

When she dragged him up by the chin for a kiss, it wasn’t like before; as he hauled her up against him, crushing her breasts flush against his chest as he wrested back control, she fit against him like she was made for him—and she was so responsive.

She broke away, looking up at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression while he fought the urge to seize her mouth again. “You’re good at that.” He tapped at her swollen lip. “I almost never count out my paycheck stubs when your mouth’s on me.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. Then a look stole over her face that was as strange as it was familiar, and by the time he placed it as the one from that photo, she was already on her knees.

Nicholas inhaled sharply as she sucked the droplets of water from his abs. Oh, fuck.

She gripped his cock in her slender fingers and touched him so gently that he shuddered, before taking as much of him as she could into her mouth.

” Fuck .” Sparks burst against his visual field as his head cracked against the tile. His hips jerked, thrusting into her throat hard enough that she gagged and pushed him back, pinning him against the shower wall by pressing hard against his thighs. And dear god, her mouth—

She worked her tongue over the crown of his cock as he fucked the plush softness of her lips, sucking him off the way she had on her loveseat..

It feels so fucking good.

“What are you thinking about now?” There was an edge to the honey-sweetness of her voice and the challenge in it pushed him over, making him come with a violence that startled them both.

Drool and come slicked his shaft as she pulled away, leaving him prone to the hard water pressure that now felt like needles on his sensitive head.

Nicholas turned from the spray and nearly hit his head on the spigot when he saw her looking up at him, watching him with something that looked a hell of a lot like desire.

“ Fuck , Jay.” He reached for her and she jerked back from him, making a muted sound as she grabbed a towel and fled. Stunned, he watched her now-towel-clad ass depart through the door at a fast clip like the hounds of hell were at her heels.

He did bang his head when he turned around a second time and he swore at the sting, running a hand through his hair as he bent to shut off the water. He grabbed one of her yellow towels and slung it around his shoulders as he followed her back into the one-bedroom.

She had thrown her own damp towel on her bed and was buttoning herself into a dress—a matronly, ruffled thing that made her look like somebody’s preschool art teacher.

A very fuckable preschool art teacher who gave amazing head and could set him on fire with a glance.

When she bent to buckle her boot, revealing a slit in the skirt that showed off just a hint of leg, he cleared his throat. Loudly.

“Oh my god!” Her eyes swung towards him, moved down, and then immediately away. A blush began to bloom over her cheekbones, which was fucking hilarious after what she had just done to him in that bathroom. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not that long.” Hiding a smile, he knotted the towel around his hips. “Did you already call the taxi?”

“Um.” She grabbed a purse off her counter. “I thought we’d take BART.”

“Wasn’t that how you got mugged?”

“I got mugged after I got off the train, actually. While I was walking to work.”

Nicholas grabbed a pair of boxers out of his backpack and stepped into them before tugging some slacks over his narrow hips. “We’re still taxing a taxi.”

She watched him reach for his shirt with an anxious expression. “It’s going to be expensive.”

“I think I can afford it,” he said dryly.

The fare seemed reasonable enough to him but Jay’s eyebrows had shot up, which made him wonder if he was being subjected to a tourist tax. He still tipped the man, mostly because Jay would have, though he didn’t miss the way the driver’s eyes lingered on the shape of Jay’s legs.

The art museum’s stone fa?ade surrounded a central atrium, looming over the park across the street and its adjoining mall. They went through a side entrance, which involved going up a staircase with a big glass window that reminded him of a racketball court. It looked into a lobby area with photographs and paintings displayed prominently on the wall.

He studied their reflections in the glass as they made their way to the big double doors. The bohemian florals swathing her curvy body were a stark contrast to his own lean solid build and sober colors. Nobody, he thought, would ever think that they were siblings now.

“Did you come here often?” he asked casually, putting his hand on the small of her back.

“On free days. And sometimes special occasions, too.”

“What special occasions were those?”

“Um, well. I saved up to see the Magritte exhibit. He’s that Belgian artist, the surrealist. He painted the man in the bowler hat who had an apple for a face.”

“And here I thought you’d go for the impressionists.”

“Wow,” she said. “Am I being schooled on aesthetics by the man who has a mutant jellyfish hanging in his foyer?”

“If you don’t like the Chihuly, I can sell it. We can buy anything you want.”

She stared at him incredulously. “Are you seriously offering to buy me art?”

“Yes,” he said. “Why? Do you want a Magritte? We can hang it in your room.”

Her cheeks colored as someone nearby glanced over at them with raised eyebrows. “ No , Nicholas. Oh my god, I can’t even imagine what that would cost you.”

“I think I could afford it,” he said, and she stared at him, as if realizing that he actually could.

He paid for their tickets while she fiddled with the latch of her purse. He was happy that she didn’t try to pay, although he suspected that she wanted to. She was so fidgety. Or was she nervous? He’d never seen her this agitated when she was talking with anyone else.

Once they had their admission stickers, they went to examine a map by one of the stairwells. “This floor is photography, if I remember right,” she was saying. “And there’s a living wall and some mobile sculptures. I’m not that into photography, so we can skip that unless you are—oh.” Some of the enthusiasm drained from her face. “That’s right, I guess you are.”

“We can skip it. Let’s go to the fifth floor and work our way down.”

Jay nodded tightly and turned towards the elevators. He followed, regretting the brief moment of ease that had slipped away between them like sand through his fingers. Knowing she was thinking about the past and not being able to do anything about it made it feel as if a hot ball of lead were burning in his gut. Especially when he realized her hand was trembling in his.

The elevator doors opened, spilling them out into another gallery. Jay squared her shoulders, giving a nod of acknowledgement to one of the guards stationed by the wall.

Nicholas tightened his grip minutely, lacing his fingers with hers. He didn’t recognize any of the artists, and the vast empty rooms with their reverberating echoes didn’t exactly inspire confidences. “This place is certainly spacious.”

She eyed him. “Mario Botta is the architect. He designed the Evry Cathedral in France, too. They both make use of truncated cylinders in their designs.”

“Sounds hot.”

She swatted at him with her free hand and he gave her trapped one a squeeze, which she returned after a brief pause. By the time they had made it into the third room, her shoulders had relaxed again and it was as if the subject of photography had never been brought up at all. But there would be other pitfalls going forward. Other mistakes.

Sometimes when they were in bed together he would do something that would make her freeze and he would see the light in her eyes die, consumed by a storm of dark memories.

Maybe that’s why she keeps them closed.

Nicholas shoved that unpleasant thought from his mind, burying it deep, and smiled down at Jay’s too-serious face. “Show me your favorites.”

She tried to hide her enthusiasm but he knew her too well and recognized the little gleam in her eyes when she turned back to the gallery as she decided where to lead him. Despite her claims to the contrary, she gravitated to paintings with bright colors—fantastic dreamscapes, neon palettes, impressionistic swirls. The colors glowed the way she did, like she fucking belonged in flower fields and pools of sunlight.

But not with him. No, there in his bed, she closed her eyes and confined herself to self-inflicted darkness, enduring his demands in a way that was beginning to make him wonder how much of her pleasure was real. She wouldn’t look at him until he told her to. He knew she liked his body, but as soon as he was inside her, parts of Jay became so remote he was afraid he could never reach them. A fool’s journey, paved by the best sex of his fucking life.

“Do you like that one? The abstract impressionist?”

Her low voice took him from his thoughts and he blinked, realizing he had been glaring at a painting. He glanced at the placard dismissively and said, “No, not particularly.”

“Are you having a bad time?”

“No,” he said gruffly. He wasn’t.

“You look angry,” she said cautiously.

“I’m not angry. I’m thinking about work.”

“You work yourself too hard, Nick.” She sounded sympathetic now, which was worse than betrayal. He didn’t want to be pitied. “Even Arthur thinks you are. He told me.”

“Arthur isn’t holding up the company on his shoulders. Of course he can afford to be cavalier.”

“He’s not cavalier. He just has a good work-life balance. And so should you.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles and an electric need arced down his spine. “Try to enjoy the art. It’s supposed to be a reset for you brain. Like looking at nature, or listening to classical music.”

“I don’t need a reset,” he grumbled. “I just need people to do what I pay them for.”

“They do.”

We’ll see .

He swept her into another room, no longer wanting to look at that bleak painting with its dark smears of abstract color. Jay didn’t seem to mind holding hands but he suspected that was because there was no one here to see.

It was only when the clothes started to come off that she lost that outward fa?ade of bossy control and yielded to him the way he wanted, giving him everything but her heart.

Nicholas darted a wild look at a sculpture made of metal and plastic. Thinking about her slow, tongue-heavy blowjobs made his knees feel watery. She was cruel the way she did it, too. Lingering over his stomach as she kissed her way down to his dick. Teasing him with her very breath until the anticipation of the act built up to a deep throb in his belly.

They were good at hurting each other. Had perfected it with a lifetime of careful brushstrokes that demonstrated a mastery rivaling any one of these framed paintings. But he was tired of coupling their passion with violence.

He just wanted to be fucking loved.