The Affair: Week 4 (4 page)

She sat forward slightly. “Is that what you think?” she asked quietly. “That I don’t realize how hard it is, how sad, to lose someone you love, just because I told you about my experience with dying? That’s not fair, Vanni.” He blinked at the cold steel in her tone. “I still grieve my mother. I miss her every day of my life. Do you want to know the real reason I haven’t gone all self-righteous over this whole thing with Amanda and Colin?”

“I assumed it was a combination of the facts that you were ready for the relationship to end and that you’re a kinder, more forgiving and a much,
much
better person than I could ever be,” he said dryly.

Her expression fell a little at that. “It’s not that I’m
kind
or better than anyone. It’s just I. . . .”

“What?” he asked, leaning forward, his elbows on the table, when she faded off. She suddenly felt very vulnerable and stupid, sitting in the midst of this glamorous, fairy-tale setting with a gorgeous, sophisticated man, exposing her heart. Surely her confessions were neither appropriate nor wanted.

“Emma?” he pressed, his gaze on her fierce.

She swallowed. He didn’t look like he wanted her to shut up. Just the opposite, in fact. Besides, she couldn’t be someone different than she was just to fit into his world.

“It’s just that I keep picturing how sad Mom would be if she knew Amanda and I had a falling out over something as insignificant, in the grand scheme of things, as a boy.”

He listened, then shook his head slightly, his mouth tight. “What they did to you was inexcusable.”

“Yes. But not unforgivable. At least that’s what I’m trying to do . . . get past it. It’s like I told you, it’s a process. At least it is in my case. With Amanda. You’d do the same, if you loved someone the way I do my sister. You don’t know her. She doesn’t go around doing stuff like this as a matter of course. She’s never done anything like this before, so I can’t help but feel that this thing with her and Colin is something major.”

Something flickered across his stony expression. He reached across the table and took her hand. “You’re wrong, Emma,” he said gruffly. “You really are a much better person than me.”

The distant sounds of china clinking and murmuring voices faded to a distant hum. Their gazes held, and she saw the warmth in his eyes. He may not agree with her choice of action when it came to Colin and Amanda, but he understood now.
Better
, anyway. They both knew what it was to lose someone and have an irreparable hole torn into your life. You behaved differently, at times, with the imagined ghost of that loved one looking on.

She was vaguely aware of someone passing the table. Vanni leaned back slightly and dragged his gaze off her.

“Excuse me,” he said. The waiter who had been passing paused. “We’ll take that dessert to go. And the check please.”

“You don’t want to eat it here?” she asked, dazed after the waiter hastened to follow his instruction.

“No,” he said, leaning back and dropping his napkin negligently on the table. “I want to give it to you.”

Her core clenched tight, his words taking on a distinctly charged, erotic meaning after the intimate moment they’d just shared. She placed her napkin on the table, her pulse flickering at her throat.

He clearly was intent on giving her something, and she had the thrilling feeling that it wasn’t just the dessert.

The cab dropped them off at the same building where he’d parked the car. They returned to his sedan to retrieve his leather portfolio and the canvas bag in which she’d packed a change of clothing for tomorrow and a few other necessary items. After they’d left the car, he led her to a different elevator than the one they’d taken from the street.

“Is your apartment in this building?” she asked him when they left the elevator and entered a sedately opulent lobby situated just off Michigan Avenue.

“Yes,” he said, nodding to the doorman who greeted him by name and hurried to open the door for them. “My offices are just a block away from here.”

She was having a little trouble keeping up with his long-legged stride. When they got onto the residential elevator, he pushed the button for the fifty-sixth floor. Emma leaned against the brass railing and panted softly.

“Are you all right?” he wondered, dark brows slanting in concern.

“Yes. You were walking kind of fast,” she said, grinning.

He stepped forward and palmed her jaw. Her panting breath froze in her lungs when she noticed his intent expression.

“You are certain you’re well, aren’t you?”

“What?” she asked, surprised.

“I know that you said you were . . .” he hesitated. “
Cured
of that childhood ailment, but are you certain?”

Her mouth fell open. “Of course I’m sure. I just was at my doctor’s last month. I’ve been perfectly healthy since it happened when I was a kid.” A horrible thought occurred to her as the elevator lifted them silently. “You’re not afraid you’ll
catch
something from me, are you?”

He stiffened. “What? Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why . . .
oh
,” she said, realization dawning. “You thought maybe I was carrying my eternal optimism too far. You think I’m fooling myself into believing in the miracle cure.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not that much of a Pollyanna. I’m a nurse, too, you know. I can be
very
practical.”

He seemed to relax a little. The elevator dinged and the door opened. He took her hand and led her into a hallway.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “And I’m sorry for rushing just now, too. I’m impatient.”

“For dessert?” she asked cautiously, stopping when he did in front of a door. He paused with a key in the lock, leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. An electrical tingle went through her, a hint of what was to come.

“For dessert,” he agreed before he pushed open the condominium door. Emma entered, staring in openmouthed awe. He didn’t switch on a light, but he didn’t need to. She hardly noticed the sumptuous living room as she walked through it. Her attention was snagged by the stunning view of Millennium and Grant parks, the Art Institute, and the brightly lit tiny ribbon of cars far below them that was Michigan Avenue. She sensed Vanni step up next to her as she gazed out at the splendid sight.

“Which view do you like better? The one at the Breakers or the one here?” she asked wistfully.

He didn’t immediately reply. A shock of regret went through her when she realized that the view at the Breakers was the site of his twin brother’s untimely and tragic death.

“Vanni . . . I’m sorry, that was an insensitive thing to ask.”

His face looked compelling and unreadable in the dim light provided by city far below them. He didn’t appear offended, however, so she couldn’t stop herself from speaking her pressing thought out loud.

“Why did you do it?” she whispered. “Why did you build a house where you’re constantly forced to look out at the place where Adrian died?”

The silence stretched. He reached for her with the hand that wasn’t holding the desserts and his briefcase.

“Because there are more things in that view than the place where Adrian died. There are also places in it where he lived.”

If only
you
could live there as well. Truly live.

Not only his words, but her thought echoed in her brain. She wasn’t sure if he’d given her an answer full of meaning, or if he’d sidestepped her question altogether. She did know this in that moment: Vanni Montand had been leading half a life.

“I don’t want to talk about depressing things, Emma,” he said with quiet finality. Maybe he was right. She nodded in agreement. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

She shook her head. “When will you return from France?” she asked.

“I’m due back the following Monday.”

“I’d imagine things are really heating up in France, with the race coming up.”

He nodded, his stare on her unflinching. “I regret having to be away so much now. We’ll talk more about you coming with me for the last trip, during the race itself. But not now.” He tilted his head toward the hallway. “Come. Let’s go finish our dinner.”

She followed him, sensing his focused intent, her heart beginning to pound out a warning, yet thrilling, drumbeat.

He turned on a bedside lamp, using a control panel on the wall near the door, and then dimmed it to a cozy, golden glow. The bed here was more streamlined and modern than the one at the Breakers, but it was just as large and sumptuously dressed in austere, masculine luxury with muted grays, dark browns, and creamy beige tones. The curtains were drawn, giving the room a hushed, secluded ambience. He set the bag he was carrying on a bedside chest of drawers. He removed his jacket and tossed it on the back of a deep upholstered chair, then set down his leather portfolio. She stood there, admiring his form and easy, athletic grace. Did his masculine confidence and beauty strike such a deep, compelling chord of longing and lust in every woman he seduced? Or was it singular in Emma’s case? Her heart sunk when she realized she was too inexperienced to know. She wasn’t even sure what the feeling
was
, let alone whether or not it was common. She watched, curious but also increasingly anxious, as he reached into his briefcase.

He withdrew a velvet drawstring bag and slid something out of it. He turned, holding the vibrator he’d used on her earlier today in his hand. Her eyes widened.

“Come here,” he said quietly when he saw she still stood just inside the threshold of the bedroom.

She walked toward him, unable to look away from his eyes.

“What . . . what are you going to do?” she asked when she came to a stop a few feet away.

His eyebrows arched. “The anxiety is back, I see. I thought it might make an unwelcome return. That’s why I brought the desserts. It’s hard to be nervous when you’re playing a game . . . and eating sweets, don’t you think?”

“Playing a game?” she asked uncertainly.

He held her stare and nodded. His aquamarine eyes looked softer than usual in the ambient light. “Take off all your clothes except for your underwear, and I’ll explain,” he said.

She swallowed thickly and set down her purse on the chair. She didn’t know why his request struck her as so intimidating. One had to take off their clothes to have sex, didn’t they? But he didn’t undress, she realized as she slid off her high-heeled sandals and unbelted her dress. He just watched her steadily, obviously interested, all the while holding that damn little instrument in his large hand. Both his hand and that vibrator had made her climax so efficiently earlier today that she’d nearly blacked out both times. Her core turned molten at the incendiary thought, but her skin pebbled when she lifted her dress over her head, exposing her bare skin to the cool air-conditioning and Vanni’s hot stare. She hesitated as she reached for the clasp on her bra, but then she met his gaze. Maybe it was just the lighting, but that atypical softness remained in his gaze alongside the heat of desire. It was like a reassuring caress. There was no logical reason why he should, given his apparent impenetrable confidence, but he felt compassion for her anxiety. He
knew
this wasn’t easy for her. The realization steadied her.

She dropped her bra in the chair on top of her dress and stood before him, naked save her panties.

“Now. What’s your game, Speed Racer?” she teased him warily.

His flashing smile was like a swift punch to the gut. She could really get used to seeing his unguarded, warm smiles. They were so rare and beautiful in comparison to his grim, cynical ones.

She could get
dangerously
used to them.

“It’s pretty simple,” he said, picking up the bag of desserts and walking over to a dresser. He opened a drawer and removed a long black scarf. He took all the items over to the bed and sat on the edge. Setting down the bag and the vibrator, he beckoned her closer. “You may have noticed that the desserts featured some kind of seasonal fruit in addition to other things, like chocolate, cake, pastry?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she said, even though she was struggling to remember precisely what was on the menu. She drew near him, stopping near his long, bent legs.

He held up the scarf. “I’m going to blindfold you and feed you the desserts, and all you have to do is guess the fruit correctly.”

“That’s all?” she asked warily.

“No,” he conceded, his shapely mouth tilting. He loosened his tie, holding her stare, and slid it from around his neck. The hissing sound of silk against cotton inexplicably made her sex contract and her nipples tighten. His gaze flickered downward to her chest, and she inhaled sharply.

He’d noticed.

“I’m going to bind your wrists in front of you,” he said, holding up his tie. “And I’m going to blindfold you, so you can’t see the dessert.”

Her eyes widened.

“It’s only fair. You’ll get them all correct, most likely, if you can see them.”

“Is that all?”

Her clit pinched tight when he slowly shook his head. He reached for the vibrator. “I’m going to put this in you,” he said, his voice a low, sultry threat.

Her eyebrows arched higher.

“There are four desserts in here. If you guess the fruit correctly, you get another bite.” The devilish gleam that entered his eyes made her heartbeat start to race. She’d never seen him look so playful . . . or so sexy. She couldn’t help but grin.

“And if I get it wrong?”

“You don’t get another bite,” he said, shrugging. “You’ll have to take a consequence, and we’ll continue.”

“A consequence,” she repeated dryly.

“You could take a spanking. Five swats for each time you’re wrong.”

“A spanking? Using your hand, you mean?” she asked, straining to keep her voice even.

He nodded. “My hand against your bare ass.”

She swallowed thickly. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and pulsed erotically in her sex. How hard could it be, really? How many types of fruit were there? Surely she wouldn’t miss, and if she did . . . well, five swats wouldn’t be that bad . . .

. . .
and they might be very good
.

“Well? Do you want to play?” he asked quietly, the glint of a challenge in his eyes.

“Yes,” she replied honestly. “Just tell me one thing first.”

He nodded.

“Have you played this game before?”

He blinked and she knew she’d taken him by surprise with her question. His grin slowly faded. She held her breath. He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not a game. Not really. It’s just
playing
, something to ease your anxiety. I’m making it up as I go along, because I don’t usually
play
in the bedroom. Not until you, and only
for
you. Do you understand?” She nodded, though stunned by his admission. “Then come here,” he said, holding out his hand.

He spread his thighs and she walked between them.

* * *

Vanni held up the vibrator that had buzzed her with such wicked precision this afternoon.

“I’m going to put this in, but first I’m going to touch you, just to see if you need some lubrication on the vibrator before I insert it.”

She stared at him, shocked a little, but also strangely aroused by his matter-of-fact language. Holding her stare, he slipped his finger beneath the top band of her panties. Heat flooded her sex and her face.
Oh God, how embarrassing.

“Spread your thighs,” he urged as his long finger slid deeper. She did what he instructed, holding her breath. It escaped on a little gasp when his fingertip touched her entrance, then penetrated her just a half an inch or so. He grunted softly, and her cheeks turned from hot to scalding.

“Why are you blushing?” he murmured, studying her face as he slowly pushed a finger into her another half an inch. “It’s a wonderful thing, to find you so warm and slick.”

Her lips fell open as he gently sawed the top of his finger in and out of her for a moment. She still was embarrassed at being found wet even without any prior prolonged stimulation. He had kissed her several times this evening, but never for longer than a fraction of a minute or so. It’d been the experience of just
being
with him all night that had so well prepared her for this moment.

He withdrew his hand, and her underwear slipped back into place. Despite her embarrassment, she missed his touch. He picked up the vibrator from the bed. “Now this,” he said simply before he pushed down the elastic band of her underwear again. Holding one end of the U-shaped, slender vibrator, he pushed it between her thighs. Again, he watched her face as he inserted the tip into her channel, penetrating her several inches until the bottom of the U was pressed flush against her sex, the other tip lodged next to her clit. The vibrator remained in place.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, feeling sweat pop out against her upper lip.

“Good.” He picked up his discarded tie. “Put your hands in front of you. I’m going to bind them.”

She followed his instructions, her heart chugging away in her chest. He looped the silk tie around her wrists and bound her with quick, expert precision. How many times had he bound a woman before? Was she crazy, for allowing this? Her anxious thoughts evaporated when he picked up the black scarf.

“Just lower your head a little, and I’ll blindfold you,” he said gently.

Even though he sat, and she stood, he was so tall that their heights weren’t that disparate. The last vision she had before the placed the silk scarf over her eyes, blinding her, was of his hot, gleaming eyes. Even though she could no longer see them a moment later as she straightened, the vision of them was burned into her mind’s eye.