The Siren (34 page)

Zach ran his subtly trembling hands over his pillows. He flipped one over and saw a small watermark on one that hadn’t been there that morning. Grateful Nora wasn’t there to see him, he lifted the pillow to his face and inhaled. A thousand sensory memories returned with that one breath. The scent was the unmistakable mark of a woman’s arousal, utterly potent and completely erotic.

“My God,” he said and heard Nora giggling at the end of the line.

“Thank you. Comfortable yet?”

Zach kicked off his shoes and propped himself on his pillows as Nora had suggested. “Physically I’m comfortable. In other respects, however…no. Not even remotely.”

He expected a laugh but none came.

“Zach,” Nora began and her voice sounded oddly solemn. “Listen to me. You don’t have to be uncomfortable. It’s just me. There’s nothing that you can say or do that will shock me. You’ve been inside me, in case you’ve forgotten. We’re both grown-ups who are very attracted to each other. You are an insanely gorgeous, incredibly intelligent man and you have no reason to be embarrassed by this.”

“Just a bit out of practice,” Zach confessed.

“Practice makes perfect. I’ll go easy on you this time. Asking again, what’s your favorite position?”

“This is the easy version?”

“This is kindergarten, Zach. Now answer me and be honest.”

Zach exhaled and looked up at the ceiling. Better to just get it out.

“I prefer from behind positions.”

“Doggie style?”

“Sometimes. My favorite, though, is when she’s on her stomach and her leg is sort of pulled up.”

“Why do you like it? And don’t skimp on the details.”

“It’s…” Zach searched for the right word. “It’s intimate without being sentimental. I suppose that sounds like a load of rubbish to you.”

“No, it makes perfect sense. Missionary position is as vanilla as it gets. But from behind positions are fantastic. Some of my favorites, too. When was the first time you tried it?”

“I was seventeen, I think. I was seeing a university student a few years older than me.”

“Such a lady-killer. And she was more experienced than you?”

“Vastly. I’d had more than a few wild nights but nothing had prepared me for her. Second time we were together she rolled onto her stomach and made her will known.”

“I like this girl.”

“She was a beautiful half-crazy bint named Raine of all things, but I don’t regret the lessons.”

“Raine is making me wet. What do you remember from the first time, Zach?”

“Ah…” Zach closed his eyes and summoned the memory. It had been years since he’d even thought about her. “I remember having to move her hair off her neck. She had gorgeous dark hair like yours. And I’ll never forget taking a fistful of it and pushing it out of the way so I could kiss her back and shoulders.”

“Did you bite her?”

“Constantly,” Zach confessed. “And I remember bracing myself with my arms over her. My hands were on either side of her and she reached her hand out and wrapped her fingers around mine. I think that’s when it became my favorite.” He closed his eyes and remembered how often he’d taken Grace like that. She did the same thing, taking his hand while he was thrusting into her. When Raine had done it, it aroused him. When Grace did it, he was undone.

“Understandably. As a woman it’s very erotic to be taken like that. You feel, oh, what’s the word? Used, I guess. Used in a good way. From behind positions are fairly dominant. I think you have a Dom streak in you, Zach.”

“It didn’t feel like dominance. Just intimate. I mean…I can’t begin to fathom what I mean.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.” Nora’s voice was even softer now, coaxing him to close his eyes. He wondered if she was in her bedroom and what she was doing to put that purr in her voice. He didn’t want to ask, but he did want to imagine.

“The whispering,” he said.

“The whispering? What whispering?”

“In that position, his, my mouth is at her ear. It’s perfect for whispering…things.”

“So he does like dirty talk after all. What do you say when you’re on top of a woman and inside her?”

“Nora,” he protested. “I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can. Tell me. Close your eyes and pretend it’s me underneath you. Pretend your chest is pressed to my shoulders. Pretend your hands are locked over my wrists. Pretend your mouth is at my ear. Pretend you’re moving inside me. Is that such a horrible thought?”

“No, it’s amazing,” Zach said, suddenly breathless.

“Tell me, Zach. Tell me what you’d say. Whisper it in my ear…”

Zach took a deep breath, and remembered he was allowed to trust Nora and to trust himself. It was so damned hard to do, but he wanted to trust her, needed to trust her.

He rolled onto his side, unbuttoned his pants and whispered.

26

O
n Friday morning Zach was stuck in a staff meeting and finding it hard to concentrate for two reasons. Reason number one—the phone call from Grace that had left his heart aching. Reason number two—the phone call from Nora last night that had left his body aching.

“And as most of you know,” J.P. said, “in two weeks our Zach Easton will be going west to take over as chief managing editor at the L.A. offices. I’m sure all of you will miss his sunny presence. To quote the old Irish blessing,
may the fog rise up to meet you
or something like that.” A gentle murmur of laughter rippled through the room. Only that pompous arse Thomas Finley wasn’t laughing, merely smirking as usual.

Thomas he would not miss. But he would miss his assistant, Mary, and J.P. Of course it was Nora’s presence in his life he’d miss more than anything from his time in New York. She had become the embodiment of the city to him—reckless and wild, fascinating and beautiful, dark and dangerous, so spoiled and so very generous.

“So two weeks from now,” J.P. continued, “in the conference room we’ll have a going away party for Easton. I suggested all of us go out to the Four Seasons but someone vetoed that suggestion so blame Easton for his half-assed fare-thee-well.” A smattering of playful boos were thrown Zach’s way.

The meeting concluded and the staff started filing out. Mary gave him a hug on the way out and said, “Take me to California with you,” in a stage whisper in his ear. J.P., standing next to Zach, mouthed, “Not a chance” at her, and Mary departed wearing a faux pout on her face.

There were friendly shoulder pats and a few hearty handshakes from his fellow editors. Zach turned to ask J.P. something when he heard a smug laugh behind him.

“How’s Nora’s book coming, Zach?” Thomas Finley asked in his unctuous tone. “Coming hard and coming often?”

“The work is progressing very well, Thomas,” Zach replied, ignoring Thomas’s childish insinuations. “Thank you for asking.”

“Cracking the whip, are you?” he asked with a sneer. “Oh, wait, that’s her job.”

“Finley, that’s enough,” J.P. said, pointing an angry finger on his way out of the conference room. “Our writers deserve our respect.”

“Respect her?” Thomas snorted as soon as J.P. was gone. “If I paid her to put her boot on my back then maybe I’d respect her.”

Zach stuffed his papers in his messenger bag.

“I see Mary was right,” Zach said calmly.

“Right about what?” Finley demanded, his face reddening.

“About your professional jealousy. I’m sorry if you thought the position in L.A. should have been yours. The fact that you responded to my promotion with juvenile pranks is proof that you barely deserve this job, much less the chief managing editor position. Publishing is for adults, Thomas. It would help if you acted like one.”

“Zach, the only reason you got offered that job in L.A. was pure pity. J.P. got wind your wife was dumping you. After all, none of my writers have ever had to sleep their way to a six-figure advance.”

“None of your writers have ever earned a six-figure advance. And Nora will earn her advance like every other writer I’ve ever worked with—by writing her heart out. Nora and I are not sleeping together. The position is mine because I’m better at this job than you are. And this conversation,” Zach said emphatically, trying to shove past Thomas who stepped in front of the door to bar his way, “is over.”

“Not sleeping together? Really?” Thomas feigned shock. “Let me guess, she’s out of your price range.”

“You’re a child, Thomas.”

“And she’s a prostitute, Easton.”

Zach blanched and opened his mouth to protest but something stopped him.

A wide and vicious grin spread across Thomas’s face.

“Zach, Zach, Zach…you really didn’t know? Nora Sutherlin’s the most famous Dominatrix in this city. I guess she just hasn’t sent you the invoice for her services rendered yet.”

“I know what she is, what she does in her free time. Her private life is not my concern.”

“Private life? Easton—it’s not private if you have to pay taxes on it. She does it for money. She is a hooker. Friend of mine shelled out 5K just to watch him tie up and fuck his girlfriend. Do I need to put this in writing for you?”

Zach pushed Thomas out of the way. Finley’s cackle followed him all the way down the hall.

Zach stopped in J.P.’s office. J.P. looked up at him with wary eyes.

“Give me your car keys, J.P.”

J.P. dug in his pocket.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing I’ll repeat until I hear it from her.”

Zach took the keys and headed to the door.

“Easton—you’re my only new critic, remember? It’s not supposed to be about the author, just the book.”

“It’s never just about the book,” Zach said and slammed J.P.’s door behind him.

* * *

Nora glanced at her handwritten notes and started typing again. She wanted to quit for the day but knew she had to push through her tiredness. She was getting close to the big crisis in the story and while she looked forward to rewriting the intensely dramatic scene, she also dreaded having to begin the process of ending the book. More than any of her previous books, this one had become her baby, hers and Zach’s, and she loved it more than she ever knew she could love something her own hands had made.

Nora started to flip a page in her notes but stopped when she heard someone knocking on her door. The insistent knock came again.

She smiled as she opened the door and saw Zach standing on her porch.

“You’re making a habit of this, Zach,” she said, quietly thrilled to see him.

But Zach didn’t smile back. He stared at her and raised his chin.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

Nora’s heart dropped through her body and into her feet.

“Shit.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Zach said, coming through the open door.

“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was going to. At the club. Then Søren showed up. I chickened out, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter that you’re a prostitute?”

“A prostitute? Is that what you think I am?” she demanded. “Prostitutes would kill to be me. I’m a Dominatrix. People submit to me for money. But they never ever get to fuck me.”

“I thought you were this sexy, wild writer, a free spirit. But you aren’t a free spirit. You’re just a very expensive cheap trick.”

“I told you, Zach—my tricks are anything but cheap.” She heard the iciness in her voice and Zach gave her a dark look.

“You lied to me,” he said with cold, quiet anger.

Nora took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm.

“Zach, I know you’re upset. I know this is a huge shock to you—”

“Are you sick?”

Nora blinked at him.

“Some might say so. I can’t say I disagree.”

Zach tore from the living room and came back seconds later with a pill bottle in his hand.

“These,” he said, shoving her beta-blockers nearly in her face. “My father takes these for his heart trouble that could kill him at any moment. And your M.D. appointments in your date book—are you ill?”

“First of all, you had no right to dig through my medicine cabinet or my date book, but considering I broke into your apartment, we’ll let that slide. And no, I’m perfectly healthy. M.D. just means ‘My Dungeon’ which you’ve seen. And these are the same pills that a lot of performers take for stage fright and performance anxiety. They reduce hand tremors. My work isn’t easy sometimes. They help me get through some of the rougher scenes.”

Zach collapsed into a chair and buried his head in his hands. He sat back and threw the bottle of pills across the room. They hit the wall and clattered to the floor.

“I’ve been quietly terrified for weeks that there was something wrong with you. I thought that was the secret you were keeping from me. I never dreamed you…”

Nora bent down in front of him and reached out to touch his knee. He stood up and brushed past her.

“I can’t believe the first woman I allow near me since Grace…” Zach paused and shook his head in disgust. “I thought you were a writer.”

“I am a writer,” she said, more hurt and angry than she’d been in years. “You know that better than anyone.”

“You have sex—”

“I only fuck the women,” she admitted. “The men I just beat the shit out of.”

“For money,” Zach said.

“No, Zach. Not for money,” she said and stood toe to toe with him. “For a lot of fucking money,” she said, biting down on every word. “You get your paycheck in an envelope. I get mine in a fucking briefcase.”

Nora grabbed the black briefcase off her couch and grabbed a fistful of one hundred dollar bills and tossed them in Zach’s face. They fluttered to the floor like falling angels.

“I had nothing,” she said. “Nothing when I left Søren. I was twenty-eight years old and living with my mother. I could barely eat or sleep or move for months. She finally got so sick of me she kicked me out. I went to Kingsley Edge—”

“Your pimp,” Zach said.

“Kingsley Edge, my
friend,
” Nora countered. “And he helped me. I’d been a slave and he turned me into a master.”

“He turned you into a monster. Søren was right. I should be afraid of you.”

“You’re afraid of everything, Zach. Afraid to leave your wife. Afraid to go back to her. Afraid to start over. Afraid to have sex with me. Afraid to trust me or yourself or anyone for that matter. And afraid to tell me what happened to you…I was going to tell you my secret. I swear to God I was. I was just waiting until you were brave enough to tell me yours.”