Part 33 (1/2)

”I'll try,” he confirms. He steps into the bedroom, then holds out his hand. ”Come with me.”

I put my hand in his, feeling the familiar tingle as my skin brushes his. He leads me to the window, then takes my hands and presses my palms against the gla.s.s. He stands behind me, his arms around my waist, the strong length of him tethering me to the earth as the darkening city opens up in front of me.

”Nikki.” His voice is low and needful, and my body responds automatically. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s feel heavy, my nipples are tight nubs. Between my thighs, my s.e.x quivers. I want him. Dear G.o.d, how I want him.

”Why?” I whisper. ”Why does everything fall away when I'm with you?”

”Because there's nothing else,” he answers. ”Nothing but you and me.”

He keeps one arm around my waist, but removes his other hand. He trails his fingers up my leg, then pushes up my skirt until it's bunched around my waist and my bare a.s.s is pressed against his trousers. I feel him against me, his erection straining against a piece of cloth that is undoubtedly worth more than my car.

”Please,” I say. I want it fast and hard. I want to feel the pa.s.sion that burns between us. I want it to erase all the doubts I'd come in with until there truly is nothing but me and Damien and the world outside. ”Please f.u.c.k me.”

”Oh, G.o.d, Nikki.” His voice is a groan, and I hear him fumbling with his trousers. I feel him s.h.i.+ft behind me, and then the press of his erection like velvet steel against my bare rear. ”Spread your legs.”

I do, and he slides his fingers over my c.u.n.t, stroking me, teasing me, making me writhe against him. But this isn't what I want. I want him inside me. I want him now, and I tell him so.

He takes my hips and positions himself. I ease up onto my toes, then lower myself as he thrusts inside, but I have no control in this position. It's all Damien, thrusting deep inside me, the power of his strokes pus.h.i.+ng me forward. My palms are still on the gla.s.s, and with every stroke I'm pressed closer and closer, the wide void calling me, and nothing but Damien keeping me there.

I take one hand off the gla.s.s and reach down to stroke my c.l.i.t as Damien fills me.

”That's it, baby,” he whispers. The world is getting dark outside, and I can see our reflections now in the gla.s.s. I meet his eyes as the o.r.g.a.s.m rockets through me, making me clench tight around him, drawing him out, making him come in deep, long spurts inside of me.

I gasp, shaken by the power of the o.r.g.a.s.m, my body still pressed slightly forward, my hips still high, and Damien's c.o.c.k still deep inside me.

”Look outside,” Damien whispers. ”What do you see?”

”It's sunset,” I say playfully as I look over my shoulder to once again meet his eyes.

He presses his mouth to my ear, and there's nothing playful in his tone. ”Never, baby. Between us, the sun is never going down.”

”No,” I whisper, feeling safe and satisfied. ”Never.”

25.

Because Damien has to spend the next day in San Diego and Blaine is off dealing with some sort of gallery crisis in La Jolla, I'm back at my apartment before eight in the morning, and am surprised to find Jamie already awake.

”What the h.e.l.l?” she says, by way of greeting. ”You just vanished into thin air.”

”I know,” I say. ”I'm a terrible roommate, but I'll make it up to you. Breakfast. My treat.”

”And you'll tell me everything?”

”Swear,” I say. And I cross my heart for effect.

We end up at Du-par's on Ventura Boulevard, and after I tell her about Bruce and about what Ollie said and about Damien's explanation, she proves that she is in fact worthy of best friend status by siding with me one hundred percent. ”Ollie's like an overprotective brother. And Damien's just too d.a.m.n hot to stay mad at. Besides, it's not like he told Bruce to hire you. He just told Bruce about your resume.”

”Exactly,” I say. And since Damien and I worked through our issues rather thoroughly last night-as my soreness this morning can testify to-I s.h.i.+ft the conversation. ”This is my last week among the unemployed,” I say. ”Wanna catch a movie?”

We end up seeing two, because what's the point of being a lazy b.u.m if you don't do it up right, then head back to the apartment in a popcorn-and-soda-induced haze.

Jamie immediately heads to her room to change into pajamas even though it's not yet four. I'm about to do the same when I'm stopped by a sharp knock at the door. ”Hang on,” I say. If it's Douglas, I'm totally shooing him away. For that matter, Ollie will get shooed, too.

It's neither. It's Edward.

”Ms. Fairchild,” he says, and though he keeps his professional face on, I see the smile in his eyes. ”Mr. Stark asked me to deliver a personal apology that he wasn't able to spend the day with you in celebration of your new job.”

”He did?” I bite back a grin. We'd done a bit of celebrating last night. Celebration s.e.x. Make-up s.e.x. We'd pretty much run the gamut.

”And may I extend my congratulations on your new job as well?” Edward adds.

”Thank you,” I say. ”But he really didn't need to send you. He already congratulated me when I saw him last night.”

”Yes, but I'm to deliver your gift. Or, rather, deliver you to your gift.”

I narrow my eyes at him. ”What are you talking about?”

”I'm afraid I have very specific instructions that forbid me from actually telling you.”

”Oh. Um, okay. Let me just tell my roommate.”

”Ms. Archer is invited as well, of course.”

”Really?” This was getting interesting. I give a shout toward her room. ”Hey, James. Change of plans. We're going ... somewhere.”

She pops her head out of the door, while still only half in her T-s.h.i.+rt. She tugs it down, and peers at Edward. ”Huh? Where are we going?”

”Edward won't say. But it's a present. From Damien.”

”And I'm invited, too?”

”Absolutely,” Edward says.

”How fab is that? Well, s.h.i.+t,” she says to me, ”I'm not turning down a mystery present from a guy with billions. That's just not something I'm programmed to do.”

”Fair enough. I guess we're going,” I add to Edward.

Jamie switches the pj bottoms out for jeans, and we grab our purses and follow Edward down to the limo. I wonder if Damien requested it, or if Edward decided to drive the limo instead of the Town Car simply to give Jamie a thrill. If so, it worked. She's checking out every seat, poking into the bar, and examining each and every gadget on the console.

”Wine?” she asks, finding a chilled bottle of Chardonnay in a mini-refrigerator. Shows how much I pay attention. I didn't even know the limo had a fridge. Then again, I was a bit distracted each time I took a ride in it....

Edward takes us out onto I-10 and then heads east, which surprises me, as I'd been expecting us to head for the beach. ”Where do you think we're going?” I ask Jamie, who's riffling through the CD collection that I've never bothered to look at.

”Who cares?”

I consider that, and decide she has a very good point.