The Night Before Christian (9 page)

Moments later, they
were nestled beneath a Christmas inspired throw, which did a surprisingly good
job at keeping the icy temp from turning them into popsicles. For the next hour
and a half, they trotted through Times Square, oohed and ahhed at the
breathtaking decorations of the Fifth Avenue shops, enjoyed the display at Rockefeller
Center, and marveled at the sheer beauty of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.

“This is nice,” Emory
said, snuggling even closer against him.

Christian’s teeth
chattered. “Yeah, it is.”

She laughed. “I never
understood why you put yourself through sleigh rides. You hate the cold.”

“But I love you. And
the smile that spreads across your face always warms me nicely.”

Emory stared into his
eyes, then smiled.

“See, I’m good and
toasty now.”

“I love you, Christian.”

When she frowned, he
grew concerned. “What’s wrong?”

She leaned against him
again, this time resting her head on his shoulder. Something heavy weighed on
her mind.

“I feel guilty being
here with you, Christian. I keep thinking about Yasmin and how hurt she must
be. Just twenty-four hours ago, you were engaged to be married. Now, you’re
here with me.”

Christian placed a
finger under her chin and tipped her head so that he could look into her eyes. He
contemplated sharing with her the fact that Yasmin hadn’t wanted to get married
either. Instead, he chose to keep it to himself. He knew Emory. Her first
thought would be that he was only there because of it, which couldn’t be any further
from the truth. He was here with her because this was where he was supposed to
be.

“Let me shoulder that
guilt. You did nothing wrong. I should have ended things with Yasmin months
ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He eyed her for a moment,
then turned away. “The night of the miscarriage…” He began again, “The night of
the miscarriage we were supposed to attend a charity event. I was running
behind schedule. Work. I snapped at her for being so impatient.” He sighed. “She
stormed out of the bedroom, lost her footing on the stairs. Emory, I’m the
reason we lost our child.”

Emory rested her hand
on his cheek. “No, you’re not, Christian. Accidents happen. And that’s exactly
what that was. An unfortunate accident. But it wasn’t your fault.”

He’d told himself that
a thousand times, but it still didn’t make it any easier. “I’d convinced myself
I could be content with Yasmin, then I walked into your shop... The second I
saw you, I remembered how it felt to be truly happy. I lashed out at you that
day in your shop because I was so angry at myself for still loving you after
two years.”

Emory tilted her head
and smiled up at him, then puckered her lips for a kiss. He was more than happy
to oblige.

She snuggled against
him again. “This skyline view is amazing.”

Being here with her was
amazing. “Are you comfortable? Not too cold?”

“Perfect,” she said.

So was he.

Once they’d finished
their tour with a loop around Central Park, a cab whisked them to
The Plaza
Hotel
. Not wanting Emory to think he expected anything from her, he opted
for a two-bedroom suite. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. “You can have your
pick of whichever room you’d like,” he said, as Emory moved about the main
room.

She faced him slowly, a
hint of confusion on her face. “Okay.”

A second later, she
recovered and flashed a smile. One he deemed forced.

She pointed. “I…I guess
I’ll take that one.”

Her reaction peaked his
curiosity. Had she wanted to share a room with him? Was he taking things
unnecessarily slow?

“I think I’ll go and
freshen up a bit,” Emory said.

“Okay. I think I’ll take
a cold shower—”
Damn
. “Hot shower. I’m going to take a hot shower. Thaw
out.”

The atmosphere between
them mimicked an awkward first date. He wanted to kiss her but knew he wouldn’t
be able to stop there. Not with the way he craved to be deep inside of her.
Patience
,
he told himself. Heck, when they’d first met, she’d made him wait four months
before having sex. He’d survived then. Granted, he’d almost gone insane, but
survived nonetheless.

Christian shredded the
cloak of silence. “Afterwards, we can grab room service. Or go out. Cull &
Pistol at Chelsea Market is amazing.”

She shrugged. “Either
sounds good.”

When he nodded, she walked away. The
sway of her hips put him in a trance. Once she’d disappeared through the
bedroom door, he shook his head. Damn thawing out. He needed a serious cool
down.

Emory hadn’t enjoyed
the hot shower as much as she normally would have. Not with things so weird
between her and Christian. His awkward behavior caused a thousand scenarios to
play in her head. The most troubling—him having second thoughts about being
there with her.

It didn’t make sense.
He’d kissed her at her place with such intensity it’d left her breathless. Then
they’d been cozy and affectionate during the amazing carriage ride. Now, he
acted as if he were afraid to touch her. And separate bedrooms? What’d happen
between then and now?

Okay, she understood
him not wanting to rush into a sexual relationship, but they could at least
hold each other, right?

Thinking about what
she’d just said to herself, she laughed.
Hold each other
? She laughed
again. There was no way she could intimately snuggle with that man and not want
to make love to him. Especially with the insane way her body responded to his
touch.

Fastening a towel
around herself, she stared at the huge, empty bed and shook her head. An eerie
reminder of the past two years. Pondering that fact, something rushed over her.
No way was she spending tonight alone. She’d suffered too long without Christian.

Emory entered
Christian’s bedroom and posted at the window. When he exited the bathroom, she
faced him just in time to see the surprised expression crawl across his face.
Still in her towel, she strolled toward him in a slow, seductive manner. “I
changed my mind. I think I like this room better. It has an amazing view of
central park.”

Christian eyed her for
a moment, then his lips curled. “That’s too bad, because I’ve grown quite fond
of this room. I don’t think I want to give it up.”

“
Hmm
. Then it
seems we have a problem.”

“Appears so. How do you
suggest we solve it?”

Emory’s eyes slid to
his mouth, then seared a trail down his damp torso. A line of fine black hairs
disappeared beneath the towel he wore. Finding his eyes again, she sucked her
bottom lip between her teeth.

A look danced in Christian’s
eyes… Potent. Primal. Promising. Without a doubt, the next few hours would be
ones she would enjoy. Answering her body’s plea, he placed his hand in the
gather of her towel and pulled her toward him. A beat later, his mouth covered
hers.

Winded, Christian
pulled away. “I need to make love to you. I know you probably want to take
things slow and I respect that. So, I’ll wait if you say I have to. And I’ll do
it with patience. But I want you, Emory. I want you so bad it hurts.”

She’d always been good
at giving him what he wanted. Without uttering a word, she loosened the gather
of her towel, allowing it to fall into a puddle on the floor. It was time to
see who wanted whom more.

Her body had changed
over the past two years. Breasts that once stood at full attention weren’t as
pert. A once flat stomach now had a small pouch. Thin thighs were thicker than
they used to be. But she loved every inch of her body. And by the way
Christian’s crotch tented his towel, so did he.

He drank her up with his
eyes. “Damn. I don’t think a female body could be more beautiful than yours.”
He glided a finger over her shoulder, across her collarbone, and down the
center of her chest. “Every inch. Beautiful.”

The sensation from his
touch caused her words to come out in a clumsy mess. “You were engaged to a
supermodel. I’m definitely not that.”

“There’s something a
supermodel can never be. Something no woman could ever be.”

Emory moistened her
lips. “And what’s that?”

He rested a hand on the
side of her neck. “
You
. Tonight is all about you. About your every want.
Your every need. Your every desire.”

“I
want
this
moment to be about more than pleasure. When we make love, I
need
you to
know I’m returning a part of myself to you I snatched away. My every want, my
every need, my every desire…is
you
. I love you like no other, Christian
St. Claire.”

Christian walked her
backwards until the back of her legs touched the bed, then guided her flat onto
the mattress. Emory held his eyes until he broke contact, knelt, and kissed
along her inner thigh. Her body sizzled each time his lips touched her
scorching flesh.

Delicate kisses
peppered the thatch of curly hairs on his journey to the opposite thigh. Each
time he made contact with her skin, she grew more and more anxious. Why was he
torturing her? He had to know how much she wanted him, needed him, craved him. As
if he’d sensed her urgency, his warm mouth claimed her core.

Instant sensations tore
through her, causing every muscle in her body to twitch. If she experienced
this kind of reaction now, her body would surely short-circuit and shutdown
when he brought her to an actual orgasm.

Christian spread her
further apart, using his tongue with the skill of a trained marksman, who aimed
right…on…target. He hadn’t lost his touch, bringing her to a climax in record
time. Emory’s back arched off the mattress. Her nails made a zipping sound as
she dragged them across the bedding. There was no taming the intense waves of
pleasure crashing through her, so she didn’t try.

The kisses Christian
planted on her as his body inched up hers only intensified the sensations
already claiming her. He sucked one of her hardened nipples between his lips
and teased it with his tongue. A deep moaned flew past her lips when his hand
settled between her legs.

“Yes,” she whispered,
when his fingers curved inside of her. She ground her hips into him,
wanting…needing deeper penetration.

“I can’t take it
another second,” Christian said, stopping abruptly.

For the next few seconds,
everything was a blur: Christian undressing, sheathing himself, and blanketing
her body with his.

Sated, Emory smiled. “That
was—”

“Delicious,” he said,
finishing her thought with his own narrative. “And only the beginning. Kiss
me,” he whispered close to her mouth.

Lifting her head, she welcomed
his mouth against hers. His tongue snaked past her lips, and she sucked it
gently. All of her focus had been on the kiss, until he slid his hardness
inside her. A whimper escaped as she molded around him. He still fitted her
perfectly.

“That’s a beautiful
sound.” His mouth hovered at her ear. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered and nipped
her lobe. “I’ve missed hearing you moan when I’m inside you.” He kissed her
jaw. “I’ve missed the way your body responds to mine and mine to yours.” He
pecked her gently on the lips. “I love you, woman. And I want to spend all
night inside of you, making you come until your body begs for mercy. Is that
all right with you?”

“Absolutely. But don’t
be so sure it’ll be my body begging for the mercy.”

With that, Christian
drove into her hard and deep. The sound she emitted would surely prompt the
neighboring rooms to contact security. Obviously, he was determined to dominate
her. One delicious stroke at the time.

It wasn’t long before
the tingle of another orgasm gripped her. She dug her nails into Christian’s
moistened flesh as fire raged through her. The intense release snatched her
breath away.

Christian’s strokes
slowed, grew clumsy. If she had to guess, he neared his breaking point. Two or
three strokes later, he shattered, releasing a guttural noise that mimicked
more a growl than a moan.

Collapsing down next to
Emory, he pulled her into his arms. Winded, he said, “Don’t get too
comfortable. We have a long night ahead of us.”

***

Emory had been awake
for hours, simply watching Christian sleep. His partially opened lips allowed
soft snores to escape. If someone would have told her a year ago—heck, a week
ago—she’d be laying here with him, she would have called them a liar. Yet, here
she was. Happier than she’d been in months.

With the tip of her
index finger, she traced along the lips that’d given her hours of intense
pleasure. Christian didn’t budge. He’d always been a hard sleeper. “I love you,
Christian St. Claire,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re my Christmas wish
come true. I’ll love you ’til the ocean runs dry.” It was something they used
to say to one another.

She kissed his cheek, inched
out the bed, and headed for the bathroom. Like the rest of the suite, it too
defined luxury. Gold faucets, mosaic tile, glass, marble. She’d bet the cost of
this room could make a nice dent in her debt.

After emptying her full
bladder, she decided to take a shower. This time, she enjoyed the feel of the
water caressing her body like heated fingers. After what seemed like an
eternity, she stepped out and wrapped herself in one of the robes provided by
the hotel. The supple fabric felt as if she’d been swaddled in a cloud. The only
other thing that felt this good against her was Christian.

When she exited the
bathroom, she’d half expected Christian to be awake, but he was still fast
asleep. At four in the morning, she should have been, too. Instead of returning
to the bed, she made her way into the ridiculously enormous living room.

Retrieving the iPad
from the glass-top cocktail table, she adjusted the lighting and the temp. When
her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t had dinner, she raided the
in-room refreshment center, then prepared a cup of hot tea.

Moseying to one of the
numerous windows, she glanced down at the bustling city. Even at this early
hour, people moved about.
This truly was the city that never sleeps
. She
rested her hand against the icy glass as if to feel the heartbeat of The Big
Apple.

“There you are.”

Before Emory could
turn, Christian wrapped her in his arms.

Nuzzling the side of
her neck, he said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

She shook her head.

“What’s on your mind?”
he asked, kissing the side of her neck. “Whenever there’s something eating at
you, you can’t sleep.”

Clearly, he still knew
her quite well. There was so much she needed to tell him. Things that could
derail their happily ever after. Rotating in his arms, she said, “What do you
think your grandmother will say about…about…
us
?”

He chuckled. “Is that
what’s bothering you? What my grandmother thinks?”

Not really, but she
nodded anyway.

His expression grew
serious. “I’m my own man, Emory. My grandmother doesn’t dictate who I can and
can’t love.”

“She’s never liked me.”

“But I love you. That’s
all that matters. That’s all that has ever mattered. That’s all that will ever
matter. My grandmother doesn’t have to love you because I do. She does,
however, have to respect you.”

Respect from Amelia St.
Clair. Not likely. But the notion brought a smile to her face. One that would
have lasted longer had she not recalled the fact his grandmother still had the
upper hand. “Christian, I need—”

“
Shh
.”

Christian removed the
cup from her hand, took a sip, then placed it on a table. Grabbing one of the
tails of fabric holding her rob together, he gave it a gentle tug. A second
later, the robe fell open. For the first time since he’d been there, she
realized he was buck-naked. The sight sent a jolt of excitement straight to the
space between her legs. They desperately needed to talk, but her arousal took
precedence.

“You were saying you
needed something.” he said, kissing her neck.

Oh, he was tricky. Emory
hummed a sound of satisfaction. “You,” she said in a heated breath. “I need
you.”

“You got me,” he said, inching the
robe off her shoulders and kissing her skin. “You’ve got me. ’Til the ocean
runs dry.”