The Saint

Nico grinned down at her.

“Every woman I’ve been with has taught me something about women. How to kiss, how to f**k, how to dress. My first lover told me women are always watching. If you’re rude to the waiter, she sees and files that away.” Nico tapped his temple.

“You had a good education.”

“I want to learn everything from you, too. And everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He straddled her thighs and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. “How you like being touched. How you like being f**ked. How you like your eggs in the morning. How you like your tea at night. How you love to be kissed.”

She raised her mouth to his, eager for more of his drugging kisses. When he kissed her and touched her, she could almost make herself believe he was the reason she’d run away to Europe and hidden herself in the middle of the Black Forest, where no one but Nico could find her.

“I like being touched the way you touch me,” she said. “I like being f**ked the way you f**k me. I like my eggs scrambled and covered in cheese. I like my tea like I like my men—hot, ready and in my hand. And I love the way you kiss me because it helps me forget why I’m here.” Her voice broke at the final words and Nico took her by the shoulders.

“Can you forget?”

“No,” she said, shivering. “I want to. I’m so angry it happened that I can’t even … I can’t breathe when I think about it.”

“I was angry, too. Angry at everyone. Especially my mother. She moved to Paris five days after Papa’s funeral. Then I realized she was grieving, too. Being near his vines, his life’s work, reminded her too much of him. I never thought she really loved him. But then I knew. She couldn’t breathe, either.”

“Help me breathe,” she said, feeling the anger like a vise around her lungs.

He pulled her close and put her head on his shoulder.

“Breathe with me,” he said. “Do what I do.”

He inhaled deeply and pushed on her back with both hands. She forced air into her nose and held the breath.

“Now push it out,” Nico said. Nora forced herself to exhale. “Good. Again.”

With his hands on her back, he guided her breathing. In and out. Deep and long. A push against her back meant “breathe in.” A gentle slide of his fingers down her spine meant “breathe out.” After a few minutes she felt the fury and the panic subsiding.

She felt dizzy with gratitude for Nico’s presence. She clung to his arms as he held her and kissed his neck.

“Do you want me to make you come again?” he asked softly in her ear.

“Yes,” she said without shame. “It will distract me, and that’s as much as I can ask for now.”

Nico pulled the straps of gown down again, lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. Nora sighed and relaxed into the pillow. His tongue circled her areola while his hands held and warmed both br**sts. She reached down to stroke him but he grabbed her hand by the wrist and pressed her hand over her head into the pillow.

“My kind of game,” she teased as he pressed her down into the bed.

“No games. I’m taking care of you tonight.” Nico kissed along the edge of her collarbone. “All night if you’ll let me.”

“I’ll let you.” She sighed, surrendering to him. It felt good to let go, to relax a little, to let him pleasure her without needing to give him anything in return. He resumed kissing her br**sts and she did nothing but lie there underneath him. He pinched her ni**les and bit them gently until they were swollen and sore—the way she liked them.

Nico slipped his hand between her legs and found the ring that pierced her clitoral hood.

“Decoration?” Nico asked.

“Mostly,” she admitted. “But it can be useful if you know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, but you can teach me.” Nico gave her a roguish grin.

With everything that had happened to her, with everything she’d been through and with everything she’d lost, she shouldn’t even be in bed with Nico, much less loving every second of his company. Had what she’d lost created such a vacuum that she needed to fill it with Kingsley’s son in her bed? Apparently so.

“There’s a bag in the bathroom,” she said. “Black silk.”

Nico raised his eyebrow.

“Trust me,” she said.

Nora straightened her gown and adjusted her pillows as Nico went into the bathroom to retrieve her bag. She gave him a wink before untying the cord and opening it. It contained nothing but a few pieces of jewelry she always traveled with—two pairs of earrings, a bracelet and the rings Søren had given her for Christmas. She’d taken the rings off two weeks ago, but she didn’t leave them behind. She could never leave them behind.

From the bag she selected an eighteen-inch silver beaded chain. She removed the camphor glass fleur-de-lis pendant, a birthday gift from Kingsley, and laid the bag aside.

“Are you getting the idea?” she asked, holding up the chain and running it through her fingers.

Nico took the chain from her hand.

“Lie back,” he said. “Open your legs.”

“The five best words in the English language.”

“Couche-toi. Écarte les cuisses,” Nico said.

“The five best words in the French language.”