Gramercy Nights (The Argo Press Trilogy Book 1) (39 page)

My heart races at Sebastian’s words. He’s one arrogant son of a bitch sometimes, but damn if he doesn’t have a right to be.

“So when do I get this surprise?” I ask, trying to keep the curiosity out of my voice. It’s one thing to want whatever Sebastian is promising and quite another to let him know that.

“Tonight. Meet me at El Peix at eight.”

“El Peix, eight. Got it,” I say, jotting down the name of a tapas restaurant I know only by reputation. “Any hints?”

Sebastian’s low, sultry laugh washes over me. “I’d rather keep you guessing,” he purrs. “But Danielle, wear a dress.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want to have complete access to you tonight. Trust me, it will be worth it.”

Trust me, he asks, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. I know he cares about me, though I haven’t the slightest idea what that means. No, Sebastian is constantly asking me to close my eyes and jump, trusting he will be there to catch me, to break my fall. And I want him to. God, do I want him to. But how? How do you trust a man like Sebastian, a man who is so clearly hiding some part of himself while demanding I am completely open to him, physically and emotionally?

I sigh. Because the truth is, I’ll close my eyes and I’ll jump and I’m just hoping he will be there to catch me.

The translation of
Tomorrow, Tonight
is going well. Slow, but it’s moving forward. Sebastian has offered, repeatedly, to put me in contact with Juan Martin but I keep telling him no, I’m not ready. And it’s true. Every book has its own process, it’s own rhythm and life, but right now, I want to work on a rough draft before hearing what Juan has to say. Because as funny as it sounds, sometimes authors are the ones who don’t know what the book is actually about.

At seven, I take a shower, letting the hot water caress every inch of my impatient body. I decide on a simple black and white silk dress that buttons down the front. It’s shorter than most dresses I wear, but the drapey fabric makes it look casually elegant.

I slip into a miniscule lace thong but don’t bother with a bra. Maybe it’s spending all this time with Sebastian. The way he looks at me. His openness towards sex and physicality. Or maybe I’m simply growing into myself. But whatever the reason, I like the freedom of going without a bra. Hell, I sometimes like the freedom of going without panties. And that has nothing to do with Sebastian issuing an order and everything to do with me finally feeling comfortable in my own skin.

I stare at myself in the mirror and am no longer shocked by the woman who stares back, her eyes lined in dark makeup, her skin pale, but it’s her posture that is new. Tall. Proud. Defiant. Strong.

I smile and that smile holds new knowledge and not just hidden sadness.

I grab my bag, excited and nervous, knowing that whatever Sebastian has planned, it will certainly be interesting.

El Peix is a beautiful mess. Mismatched chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a romantic glow on the heavy scarred wooden furniture. Candles flicker. Music spills from the speakers, barely audible above the laughter of the after work crowd.

I tell the hostess I’m meeting Sebastian and her eyes widen slightly, making me think he probably comes here quite often and then she smiles at me and tells me to follow her.

Tables are set with mismatched china and tiny juice glasses filled with wine and I notice rough hewn boards piled high with cheeses and cured meats, making my mouth water.

Sebastian must spot me, because I find him standing in front of me, wearing a slim cut suit and a tie, looking impossibly handsome. I want to reach out and run my fingers along the rough black stubble along his jaw. He turns to the hostess and thanks her before smiling down at me.

“You look beautiful,” he says in a voice laced with awe that only makes me blush.

He cups the back of my head in his hand, pulling me into a kiss that melts every inch of my body until I’m afraid I might dissolve into a puddle on the floor.

People are probably staring but I don’t give a fuck. Not when it means Sebastian will keep kissing me like this. Like he owns me and he wants the entire world to know.

I think I might even moan, but luckily the sound is eaten up by the music and laughter and clinking of silverware against plates.

He kisses along my jaw, playfully nipping my skin. “I brought a friend of mine to dinner. I think you’ll like her,” he whispers into my ear and that’s all he says, all he needs to say because suddenly I know exactly what my surprise is and I can’t believe those words uttered in a moment of passion were not only remembered but filed away until later.

Until now.

My heart races and there are butterflies in my stomach and Sebastian must know this because he takes my hand in his and presses his lips to my temple.

“There is nothing sexier in the world than you like this. Aroused. Conflicted. Just a little scared. It makes me want to do all sorts of bad, bad things to you.”

“What sort of bad, bad things?” I ask breathily, momentarily forgetting the world around us. Nothing exists but Sebastian before me. His skin on mine. His green eyes glowing in the candlelight. But Sebastian just chuckles and motions towards the table.

“Come on, your surprise is waiting. And she’s very eager to meet you,” he says, making me blush and yet, I can feel my sex grow slick at just the thought of what’s to come.

There, sitting at a secluded table is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in person. Thick dark waves of hair cascade over her shoulders. She smiles and there is nothing tentative about it, nothing nervous or uncertain. She smiles like a predator and I am her prey.

Holy fuck is she beautiful. I’d guess she’s a few years older than Sebastian, putting her in her late thirties. There’s an air about her. Of knowledge. Of wisdom. Wordlessly, she slides from the table and kisses my cheeks.

“Enchanté,” she murmurs, that single word caressing my sense and I know my nipples are hard beneath my dress, visible to everyone. “Elodie,” she whispers and I can smell her perfume, something spicy and musky. “You must be Danielle.”

The way she pronounces my name is like a poem, like a song, and I just nod and she laughs, a deep throaty laugh that’s all jazz music and smoky bars.

Sebastian’s hand glides from my hip to my lower back, settling me, making me remember that this voluptuous woman standing before me isn’t the last person on earth.

If I can feel this much of a visceral reaction to someone else, what does that mean about what I share with Sebastian? I love him and yet, I want this woman like I’ve never wanted anything else in my life.

Except, of course, Sebastian.

But Sebastian is the one who gifted her to me. Sebastian is the one who made this possible.

I glance over my shoulder at him and he’s smiling down at me and I mouth the words, Thank you, which only makes his smile widen.

Sebastian orders while Elodie focuses her attention on me. I notice the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, more visible whenever she laughs and I want to reach my hand across the table and touch them.

Elodie sits across from us and Sebastian keeps his hand on my thigh, a constant reminder that he is here with us.

We eat and laugh and talk about nothing and everything and I’m having trouble forming sentences because this woman could be mine. Is mine. Or I’m hers. But the semantics don’t bother me. I’d happily do whatever she said, just for a moment to kiss her, to taste her.

I’m so nervous I barely eat but Sebastian keeps filling my plate, whispering in my ear, “Eat. You’re going to need your strength.”

And so I eat, tasting nothing. Every once in a while, I catch a hint of Elodie’s spicy perfume in the air. I want more. I want to drink that perfume if it means I can touch Elodie’s perfect, porcelain skin.

“How long are you staying in town,” Sebastian asks as his hand pushes up my skirt, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin of my thighs. I bite my lip, trying to concentrate on anything but my body.

“Not long,” Elodie says with a shrug. “I have meetings all week and then I fly home on Friday night.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer,” she responds and I don’t know why, but this almost surprises me. When I met Henri, he struck me as the type of man who would have wanted a woman at home, tending to his various needs, rather than someone independent. And Elodie screams independence.

“Do you like it?”

She shrugs her perfect shoulders and I catch a glimpse of a tiny mole. “It’s a job. It’s not who I am. Americans always want to talk about work when there are so many other things to discuss.” The way she smiles at me tells me she isn’t condemning me but I can’t help but blush. She’s so sophisticated that I feel like a child next to her. She says something to Sebastian in French and I simply let the words wash over me. If I concentrate, I can sometimes understand some French. It shares a lot of words with Catalan, but with the rich wine warming my belly and Sebastian’s hand on my thigh, I don’t want to concentrate. I simply want to exist in the moment.

Sebastian responds in French and the way they speak, it’s clear that French is the language they normally speak together. There’s something unbelievably sexy about listening to them, even when I don’t understand what they are saying. But the way Elodie’s eyes flick across my face before she turns back to Sebastian, I can only guess I’m the subject of their discussion.

And then I feel Sebastian’s fingers brushing against my panties. I know he can feel the wetness. Know he knows just how aroused I am and I let out a heavy sigh. This is cruel. He’s toying with me and he knows it and he’s enjoying himself doing it.

“I thought we’d agreed no more panties,” he whispers, loud enough that Elodie can hear. Elodie lifts one eyebrow but says nothing.

When the bill finally arrives, Sebastian tosses down his credit card and the waitress whisks it away.

“How about a nightcap back at our apartment?” he suggests, bunching up his napkin and throwing it down on the table. Our apartment. It sends a chill through my body but I know he’s saying it to make sure Elodie understands the situation. She’s the guest and he’s inviting her into our relationship. He’s calling the shots. And that knowledge sends a wave of relief through me.

Chapter Forty

Sebastian flicks on the lights, bathing the apartment in a warm glow. Shadows abound. When he kisses my neck, I’m acutely aware of Elodie standing a few feet away, watching. But Elodie’s presence doesn’t stop him. Part of me wants to pull away, and another part wants to melt into his arms.

“There’s wine in the kitchen,” he says to Elodie and she nods, slipping past us and my eyes follow her until she disappears from my sight.

“How are you?”

I shiver. “I’m good.”

He grazes his hand along my hip, pulling me hard against him. “This is what you wanted, right?”

“Yes,” I sigh, melting back into Sebastian.

“Good,” he coos into my ear and I feel the butterflies return to my stomach. Every second that passes brings us closer to what will happen. To Elodie. To me. Sebastian must feel the tension in my body, because he whispers, “Relax. You’re doing great.”

And I just nod. Elodie returns to the living room, carrying a single glass of red wine. She takes a sip, watching us, a faint smile on her lips. She’s stunning. Her body pure femininity. Soft curves that fill out the black dress she’s wearing. It’s strange, knowing that Sebastian has slept with her before. That they had an affair. But that was years ago. And instead of jealousy, all I feel is curiosity.

Elodie steps closer, handing Sebastian the wine. He holds it to my lips and I take a tentative sip, afraid that I might spill.

My whole body hums with nervous energy and the silence is killing me. I want everything and nothing. I want to feel Elodie’s body against mine. I want to know what she looks like underneath that dress.

The only woman I have ever kissed was the redhead back in Frankfurt and that was only for a moment.

And now Sebastian is giving me this chance as a gift. And I want to fall to my knees and thank him. For this beautiful experience. For his openness. For everything.

Sebastian passes the glass back to Elodie. His strong fingers dig into my hips, holding me flush against his muscular chest. I’m trapped. Unable to move as Elodie’s eyes roam my body. I can see the hunger there. The knowledge. The awareness.

“
Elle est belle, non
?” she whispers to Sebastian, her voice dropping when she switches to French.

“
Oui.
”

She reaches out, running her finger along my cheek, her touch impossibly light, her palm cupping my cheek and I lean into it. It’s the first time she’s touched me and it sets my skin on fire.

“
Et soumise
?” she asks and I struggle to understand but the words wash over me, incomprehensible. But whatever it is she asks, it makes Sebastian laugh and I can feel it in my chest.

“
Ça depend
,” he responds. “
Sauvage et pur
.”

“
Pur?
” Elodie pauses as she considers me carefully. “
Mais elle est avec vous
?”