Adapting Desires (Endangered Heart Series Book 3) (12 page)

He steadied her further with a hard hand around her backside and pushed her to the cold tile. When he did, the sight of the shower head inspired him to greater heights. Without pause, he reached for it, changing the faucet and turning the water back on to a suitable temperature.

“Since you insist on remaining so wet…”

Emilia’s eyes grew wide as he inched the shower head between her legs, his fascination in the female anatomy growing as her legs parted and her expression appeared joyful. When had she become so delightfully flexible?

Teasing her inner thighs, Kasper chuckled while she squirmed to get closer. Faster than her, however, he pulled away each time she tried to thrust herself into the pulsing water. For her reward, Kasper drew a little closer to that throbbing bud of hers each time, no longer sure if it was Emilia’s desire that vibrated the tub or the shower head itself.

“My, my,” he mused. “You are a dirty girl. Perhaps I should bathe you more often.”

When he finally found her sweet spot, her nails dug into his back hard enough to draw blood, the sting escaping him as he enjoyed her squeals of pleasure.

Chapter 9

He could see the lights before he even stepped out of the door, white and glistening in the dark that had fallen over the manor. Kasper followed them as Emilia did, admittedly enjoying the view of the lights and pine garland wrapped around the staircase. While the view was not ideal, he could see similar garland atop the fireplace hearth, a large hanging wreath just above that.

“I thought you were joking about this.”

“Originally, I was.” She giggled. “But then I really got into it.”

“Yes.” He fingered a poinsettia petal on one of the steps. From what he could see, Emilia had arranged the plants so that there was one on the edge of every step.

“Come on.” She laughed. “There’s more.”

His sigh was inaudible. “Of course there is.”

A large pine tree waited for them in the lobby, still wet from the falling snow outside. Huge in proportion, and without any symmetry, its obscure branches were long but full, threatening to bust from the windows had they been open.

He looked at it from top to bottom. “Are you not supposed to trim these things?”

“Mr. Rivas already did. Isn’t it pretty?”

“You do know I’m not a Christian, don’t you? And neither are you, for that matter…”

She slapped him playfully and tinkered with one of the white lights already secured within the tree’s depths. “How did you manage to get all of this done already?”

“The tree and poinsettias were delivered about an hour ago, so I put the lights on then. Mrs. Levkin helped me with the garland and the other things—”

“Other things?”

Well trimmed stocking were hanging over the fireplace, with reserved displays of peppermints and candy canes. Kasper was even more horrified to see the holiday cards from his clients he had stuffed into the garbage displayed on the refrigerator, additional poinsettias on the kitchen tables, and those awful nutcracker figurines on the end tables.

He pointed to the cards on the refrigerator. “I threw those away for a reason, you know?”

“We can throw them away if you want.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him close. “But you are helping me decorate the tree—”

“Oh.”

“And build a gingerbread house.”

“No.”

She laughed into his chest, and despite his worries, Kasper resisted the urge to smile back.

***

Emilia exposed him to both
Christmas in Connecticut
and
It’s a Wonderful Life
while they decorated the tree together. A tradition he had seen in catalogues growing up and deemed silly as an adult, but took a strange liking to now—undoubtedly because Emilia was involved. In a dream-like trance, he watched while she removed the boxes of round ornaments from their bags and sorted them by shape and color. Subsequently, Kasper adjusted his position to hers while she untangled the newly purchased hooks and assigned them to large colorful snowflakes. He even made a game for himself out of it, taking a sip of wine every time she bent over or stretched in such a way. Eventually she caught on.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

“Very, very much.”

She mumbled something incoherent and reached for a tapestry of glittery red ribbon. “Fine. But keep down to two glasses—and at least eat something.”

“Slave driver.”

Without any warning she pounced on him, giggling and smothering the bandages on his face in feather-light kisses. Still, there was a strange concentration, her hand steadying his wrist to prevent any wine from spilling.

“Isn’t that what wives are for?”

He kissed her back. “Good point.”

“Okay.” She laughed back. “I’ll get you something to eat, and maybe you’ll actually watch the movie.”

The moment she climbed off of him, his eyes followed her until she had left the room. Even then, Kasper reached for the television remote control and turned down the volume so he could hear the higher notes of her humming—a sign she was in a good mood. Not wanting to ruin it, he tried to obey her wishes and at least get some notion of this holiday film she wanted him to see.

So far, Kasper gathered it was an older film—the gritty black and white features told him that much. Though the movie was already far along, Kasper quickly gathered that it was about a man who had everything and complained about all of it. For some reason, it seemed to take a nitwit of an angel for him to see how valuable his life was.

Of course Kasper only really guessed that was where the film was going. He had seen few contemporary films that had an unhappy ending and were not the product of a formula. Unquestionably, however, he was relieved to hear the soft sound of Emilia’s slippers sliding against the hardwood floor as she came back to the living area, the smell of sharp cheddar and muenster cheese making his stomach gurgle more than he would have admitted.

“What?” she said, as if reading his mind. “You didn’t think I was actually going to cook something, did you?”

Kasper smiled to himself, observing the large tray of cheeses, dried meats, fruits, and her beloved pita chips.

“I won’t possibly eat all of that.”

“Probably not.” She shooed him away to make a spot for herself, and when he complied she pulled a red grape from its stem and pushed it past his lips. “But you need to be sober enough to help me with the top half of the tree—the star and so forth.”

He looked at a ladder leaning up in the corner, and the comparison of his wife to the tree…the green monster must have at least three feet on her.

From the corner of his eye he saw her smile. “I don’t want you to hate the holidays—more than usual anyway—and with my luck I’d either go down or the tree would. Both very bad.”

Kasper shook his head and Emilia giggled, reaching for a slice of cheese. “They are hardly comparable.”

She handed him the cheese and stood back up, arranging the glittery, red ribbon from the bottom of the tree to as high as she could manage. Meanwhile, he very much enjoyed watching her dance around the tree, swearing every time she got sap on her fingers or had to stretch on her tippy-toes to adjust a light or ribbon edge. Kasper still watched the silly movie, unsurprised that the man who had everything learned how valuable his wife and children were.

How ridiculous was this person that he would try to kill himself over something as expendable as money? Over something as inconsequential as prison time? He had the love of a decent woman! Friends and children! (One more subject he did not want to think about.) Granted, Kasper understood this film took place during one of the more difficult times in America’s history, yet Kasper still failed to understand how so many Americans took to melancholy so easily. How could they be so unappreciative of all wonderful things they had, the opportunities for relationships, when there were people like him who had so few?

“How much longer are you going to watch me struggle?” she asked after a while.

“That’s the best part.”

Though she shook her head, she laughed, working to get the sap from beneath her fingernails while he stood and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“What do you think of the movie?”

“It’s silly and harebrained—not unlike the other films you enjoy.”

Emilia nudged him gently with her elbow. “Instead of starting another fight, why don’t you go and get the ladder?”

Kasper did his best to imitate Emilia’s act with the ribbon, glad that Mrs. Levkin had been around to secure the lights on the top half of the tree. Or at the very least he told himself that much—taking Emilia’s advice and not willing to start a fight about something as ridiculous as his phobia of her using the ladder.

***

By Christmas Eve, considerations were being made to convert the wine cellar into a panic room, and Frankford was giving regular updates by phone and e-mail. Still, Emilia resolved not to let Kasper’s fear impact the holiday, decorating an elaborate gingerbread house and attempting to mix eggnog from scratch. And while Emilia performed each of these activities with a smile and small bit of enthusiasm, a small part of her buried herself in the holiday to avoid thinking about her reoccurring dreams of childless swings and empty hallways.

Almost nothing was being said about Cyrus’s escape, prompting more nervousness from Emilia than she would have liked to admit. Even if it meant more questions from police and even local media, Emilia would have much rather have heard Cyrus was behind bars again rather than repeatedly seeing his picture and the number for the tip hotline on the television.

“Local authorities are following every tip they receive,” Frankford said with a sigh. “And with a reward on the line—”

Rubbing at the soreness between his brows, Kasper’s eyes wandered from her back to Tut. “Every imbecile within five hundred miles will be calling in.”

Frankford nodded and bit into a sugar cookie, another one of Emilia’s attempts to distract herself.

Emilia sighed and stirred her tea. To her, it seemed better to stare out the window than to comment on her feelings in the matter.

Chapter 10

Luckily, the next day was uneventful, marked by little more than the opening of far too many presents and kissing. Between the tearing of shiny wrapping paper, Emilia all but forced Kasper to eat a few bites of scrambled eggs and toast—a command he was glad to adhere to if she would open the remainder of her gifts.

“Okay, okay.” She giggled at his stern looks and gentle nagging. “Um, I’ll open that square one there?”

He pointed to the mass of boxes under the tree. Though why she insisted on having all of the presents there, Kasper was still unsure. “This one?”

Nodding excitedly, she held out her hands and waited patiently. It was at this juncture he was glad he had not taken one of the painkiller prescribed to him by Dr. Taylor. If he had, Kasper may not have been able to enjoy the look on Emilia’s face when she unveiled the small bottle of
Eau d’Hadrien Eau de Parfum
—a scent worth over five-hundred dollars an ounce that she had fallen in love with in Paris.

Laughing wildly, she flung herself into his arms.

“You’re crazy!” she said, giggling still. “This stuff costs a fortune.”

“Since we may not be able to return to Europe for some time, I thought you’d appreciate it.” Happy to see her content, Kasper found himself chuckling. “Besides, considering your choice of occupation, you will need something to mask those wretched odors.”

“Ha ha.” She slapped him playfully as she pulled away. “Okay, now you open a present.”

Kasper sighed and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. If Emilia saw how poorly he pretended not to be excited she did not mention it. The truth of it was, during all of the years he had lived in America, Kasper had not experienced the commercialism of the holiday season. In their prior Christmas together he had refused to accept gifts from her and she to receive them. Likewise, Kasper was fortunate enough to have the advantage of buying something for himself when he wanted. Now he had to confess there was something extraordinary about being given presents from the one you loved—a reminder that someone loved you at all.

At first, Kasper was confused by the Tiffany & Company box and glanced up at Emilia before looking back to it. What possible piece of jewelry could she offer him? Was the box a front to something else?

She rolled her eyes at his hesitation, practically bouncing off the edge of the sofa arm with excitement. “Open it already!”

Kasper did her bidding, surprised beyond words to see a stainless steel watch with a black dial. Obviously Swiss made, it had a bold, clean design with a Roman numeral face. It was as if Kasper had picked it out himself.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” he said, trying not to get choked up. “Very much.”

“Don’t answer before you look at the back.” Emilia smiled nervously as she slid off the sofa arm and moved closer to him. “I had it engraved.”

With deliberate slowness, Kasper removed the watch from its box and turned the timepiece over. In a simple but small font, the word
Lifetimes
shone against the silver surface.

His brow wrinkled with confusion. “Because each day with me feels like a lifetime?”

“Something like that.” She laughed, leaning to kiss the top of his head. “But really because a single lifetime with you could never be enough.”

After the revelation of a 1
st
edition of
Jane Eyre
, driving gloves for his “new” hands, a record of Bruckner’s completed symphonies, an antique pair of emerald earrings, and more treats than Tut could possibly eat in his short lifetime, Emilia and Kasper gathered around the Christmas tree and what fire remained in the hearth. Somewhere in the background,
The Nutcracker
played, its pleasant harmony echoing throughout the manor. With her head resting in his lap, Emilia munched on cranberry bread and laughed. Every so often when she offered a bite to Kasper he obliged, not willing to risk doing anything that would make her smile fade. He was willing to acknowledge the additional entertainment that lay in watching Tut as he tried to open the remainder of his presents—unaware, it seemed, that he had no thumbs.

“I don’t know why you insisted on wrapping those,” he said.

She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. “Are you
actually
smiling?”

“Yes, I’ll admit it is quite amusing. Still,” he said as he chuckled, “I do not understand spoiling the dog—or myself for that matter.”

“Well, I do.” Emilia reached up and poked him in the chest. “Besides, I like spoiling the people and animals I love.”

“Speaking of gifts…” He leaned down low enough to catch the smell of her hair. “I have one more for you.”

The piece of bread nearly fell from her hand. “You’re joking, right? You did way too much already and you know it.”

“You’re not the only one who enjoys spoiling. Anyway.” He chuckled playfully and ran his hand over a childhood scar on her knee. “This gift is more for me.”

She lifted her head up, clearly curious over the change in his tone. “Oh?”

“It is in that hideous stocking of yours. At least I hope it’s yours…” Kasper looked over his shoulder as he trailed off. “Mr. Rivas might be rather offended.”

Giggling madly, she handed him the remaining slice of bread and flung herself up from the sofa. Never in her life had she received so many gifts. They were unnecessary and lavish, but if Kasper continued on in this fashion, she may very well have become one of the pampered members of the upper-class she used to resent.

She shook her head and ran to the stocking anyway.

The rectangular box was indeed in her stocking. Wrapped in light pink paper, hardly larger than her hand, Emilia had difficulty guessing from the outward appearance what it may be. Clearly it was something special, a gift slightly more significant than the others, or he would have given it to her earlier with the rest of them.

“What is it?” She shook the box, but the lack of sound gave nothing away.

Though it appeared to hurt his recent incisions, Kasper smiled. “Open it and find out.”

Needing no more permission, Emilia tore through the paper like a happy child, more excited about the look of joy on Kasper’s face than what may have laid inside the box. Once she gently lifted the lid, however, her face fell with surprise. Inside laid a dark green babydoll with white faux fur along the bust, the mesh material leaving nothing to the imagination. Kasper wanted to see her in this? It hardly seemed like him at all. He had, after all, spent the first half his life living in a culture where women’s bodies were only seen by their husbands, and even then only for reproducing.

She shook her head.
No
, she wouldn’t let those thoughts get to her. Not when the day had been going so well. Instead, Emilia allowed herself to explore the material of the strange garment, her nails brushing over the faux fur. If Kasper wanted something like this then what else might he want in the future? She smiled and blushed all at once. Clearly she had underestimated his appetite.

“It matches the emeralds.”

“You noticed.” He nodded, but shifted as if uncomfortable. “Once more I am relieved to see you remain able to identify your colors.”

“I
do
like it.” She glared at him. “I know you’re only belittling me because you’re nervous I won’t like it.”

“Dear God,” he said with a sigh. “I am that easy to read?”

Closing the box, Emilia walked back to him and planted a light kiss just outside of the bandages on his face. Though they had been told he was out of danger from immediate infection, Emilia knew neither of them could be careful enough. He did not express it directly, yet she knew he missed the feel of her lips against his face—another temporary sacrifice he was making to appear normal.

“Easy? No,” she said, returning to the sofa. “But I know you, remember? And I adore the fact that I’m one of the few who do.”

“You do?” he asked. “Truly? Because even if these surgeries are successful I doubt I’ll ever be the social butterfly you are.”

Careful not to put too much pressure near his face, Emilia wrapped her arms about his neck. “Of course I do. My feelings for you are unconditional. No matter what kind of tacky lingerie you buy for me.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Because I want you to go put it on for me.”

***

When she emerged it was all he could do not to jump at her right then and there. A vision in green and red, curious of the blush that had already spread, he adored how shy she was at times though he had seen every inch of her body. Hiding her face behind her hair, she bit her lower lip and made a mediocre attempt to pull down the bottom edge of the babydoll.

“So?” She dug her bare toes into the carpet and looked down. “What do you think?”

He looked her up and down before lifting his hand, gesturing for her to come forward. “Come here,” he demanded. The aggression in his voice was unmistakable, and Emilia did as he said, though not nearly as quickly as he would have liked. So when she was finally close enough to touch, Kasper reached out for her, making her gasp as he pulled her to his lap.

She laughed as she struggled to regain her balance. “I take it I have your approval then?”

Kasper’s only response was to run his hand down her back and around her ribcage. Still frustrated that she couldn’t kiss him the way she wanted, Emilia made the best of the situation by bending forward to kiss a line down Kasper’s neck into the curve of his shoulder as she worked to undo the buttons of his shirt. Aware of it or not, this forced her lower back to arch considerably—giving him an ideal view of her displayed backside.

Smiling long past the point of pain, Kasper cupped his hands over her breasts, his fingers in addition to the new material of the lingerie having a fantastic reaction on her hard nipples. Meanwhile, Emilia was careful as she worked her hands under the waistline of his pants, her mouth anything but gentle as their tongues tangled. Kasper felt himself melt away like wax in heat as she ran her fingernails over his manhood, and he returned the act in kind by harshly grabbing her backside.

They conducted themselves in a continued fashion while the snow fell softly outside, touching and enjoying as much of each other as they could. By the time Emilia reached a climax of her own, Kasper’s glowing sense of pride was the last conscious thing she was aware of before collapsing on top of him.

Kasper breathed deep and stroked her still trembling thighs. “I believe I may come to like this Christmas of yours after all.”