Gramercy Nights (The Argo Press Trilogy Book 1) (5 page)

The touch of his skin against my side makes me forget all about how hungry I am.

When he steps back, he’s grinning devilishly. “Pepper.” He holds up a pepper grinder before placing one hand on my thigh, the thin cotton doing little to mask the heat of his touch. “Stay right here.” 

All I want is to feel his lips on mine. I haven’t been able to get the thought out of my mind since last night, but I’ve never felt comfortable brazenly expressing my desires, so I lift my wine to my lips, desperately hoping he’ll make the first move.

“Four meat ravioli,” he says and I nearly spit my wine back into my glass.

“What?”

“You asked what I’m making and so I’m telling you. Four meat ravioli.” He looks amused. He can probably see the desire written all over my face. No matter how hard I try, I’ve never been able to hide my emotions. My glass is almost empty and we haven’t even sat down to eat yet. I’m going to hate myself in the morning when my alarm rings at six, but right now, I don’t care. I reach for the bottle of wine, and Sebastian grabs my wrist firmly, his elegant fingers encircling it. The man could be a pianist with hands like that.

“You said one glass.” His voice is stern and reprimanding.

I make a face and after a second, he releases my wrist. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he says, running his finger back and forth playfully against my wrist. I clench my thighs together without even realizing.

If he doesn’t kiss me soon, I’m going to explode. I can feel the arousal between my legs, the slick need amplified by each and every touch. But he doesn’t kiss me. No, he sets plates on the breakfast bar, telling me he doesn’t like to eat at the dining room table because it’s too formal.

I groan with frustration. This man is going to be the death of me.

“Cheese?” he asks, a block of parmesan and a microplane poised over my plate.

“Yes, please.”

He grins, grating cheese until the ravioli on my plate is covered in a fine dusting, like the first snow of the winter.

We eat in silence. The food is too good to interrupt with conversation.

Finishing the last bite, I close my eyes and let out a slight moan. “That was delicious.”

He gives me a boyish smile. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“What’s not to like?” I say, leaning back.

He clears the table and when I check the time on stove, I realize it’s almost ten. The night is drawing to a close and Sebastian hasn’t so much as kissed me. I don’t want it to end so soon, not when every casual touch holds so much promise. I want more. I want Sebastian, and yet I feel paralyzed to do anything about it.

I watch as he takes our wine glasses to the sink, rinsing them quickly.

“It’s getting late,” I say lamely, trying to fill the heavy silence that has fallen between us.

Sebastian glances over his shoulder, lifting one eyebrow. “Is it?”

“I should probably go,” I say, but what I really want to say is, please don’t make me leave.

Sebastian dries his hands on a dishtowel, dropping it thoughtlessly on the counter before coming around the island to stand behind me. I want to turn to see him, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m frozen in place by the knowledge of his proximity and the promise it holds.

My whole body hums nervously. He’s so close and yet, he hasn’t touched me. Not yet.

And then he’s pushing the hair from my neck and placing a kiss on my suddenly exposed skin. “Did I tell you how sexy you look in this dress?” he mumbles, his warm breath making me shiver. “You’re breathtaking. I wanted to touch you all night. Wanted to taste you.” He exhales deeply as his hands trail lazily down my sides, coming to rest on my thighs, his chest pressed against my back. “You don’t know how hard it’s been not to touch you.” He rests his forehead against the back of my head. I want to turn around, to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, but I’m trapped in the cage of his muscular arms.

“Tell me you want me, too.” His voice is a harsh rasp.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“Say it. Let me hear you say it.”

“I want you.” I barely recognize my voice it’s so thick with desire. He bunches my skirt in his fists in response, exposing my pale thighs.

Before I can register what’s happening, he spins me around and his mouth is suddenly on mine, his tongue probing me, making me gasp with the unexpected hunger of his touch. I can feel the moisture between my thighs and my nipples harden against his chest.

I have never wanted anything as much as I want Sebastian right now.

When he kisses my neck, I feel myself melting.

Just as suddenly as the kisses began, they ends, and Sebastian is taking a step back, running one hand through his hair nervously. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have brought you here. This was a mistake.”

He’s not speaking to me, but his words feel like a slap to my face. I struggle out of my seat. “I can go.” My voice trembles.

He looks up, his eyes wide with alarm. “No,” he barks, then closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. I don’t move. It’s like I’m cemented in place. When he opens his eyes again, the panic is gone and his voice is quiet. “That’s not what I meant. I just,” he breaks off, once again running a hand through his hair. “I just meant, I should have taken you out. This,” he motions around his spectacular living room. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

“What impression would that be?” I ask nervously. That you want me? That you like me? That maybe you might even enjoy spending time with me?

The look on his face is tortured and there is some small, sick part of me that wants to reach out and touch him, to comfort him. I squash that impulse and continue glaring at him icily.

He runs one hand over his face. “God, you don’t know how much I want you.” He lets out a strangled laugh. “I’m not looking for serious. I’m not interested in a girlfriend.”

“Then what, exactly, are you looking for?” If he wants to fuck me and nothing more, that’s fine but he’s damn well going to be the one to say it. He’s pacing like a caged animal and when he looks up, his eyes are flashing.

“I’ll pay you.” His voice is soft and I’m not certain I’ve heard him correctly.

“You’ll pay me?”

And then it hits me. Sebastian Casal is offering me money for sex.

Chapter Six

We stare at each other wordlessly, neither one moving a muscle.

“You’ll pay me to have sex with you?”

He nods and I can see the embarrassment written across his face like now that the words have been spoken, he doesn’t like the way they sound any more than I do.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He doesn’t respond and I realize he’s completely serious.

“How did you see this going? You’d wine and dine me and then just casually slip in the fact that, hey, if I’m interested, you’ll pay me to sleep with you?” My voice rises in anger. “Is this what you meant when you said you had a solution to my, what did you call it, money problems?”

“It’s not what you think,” he starts but I cut him off.

“Seriously? What exactly did I misunderstand here?”

“Danielle, I like you,” he says and I just shake my head.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do.” I laugh bitterly. “You know what? I would have slept with you. Hell, I was hoping to sleep with you. But this, this is fucking absurd.” I spin around and head to the kitchen, trying to remember where I dropped my bag. Of all the totally fucked up things he could have said…

“Danielle, wait.” His fingers close around my upper arm.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I hiss, slipping out of his reach and leaning down to scoop my bag off the floor. “I may be poor but I’m not a fucking prostitute.” I hurry across the hardwood floors towards the elevator.

He curses himself and strides over, his long legs placing him between me and the call button. He rubs his face with his hand again. “Give me a chance to explain. I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“What the fuck is there to explain? You want to pay me for sex. I’m not a prostitute. I think that about covers it.”

He flinches. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Right now, I’m having a hard time imagining what you’re thinking.” I glare at him, my chest heaving, but there’s something in his eyes, a look of panic, that makes me pause. “Fuck,” I mutter, pushing past him towards the kitchen. There has to be something stronger in here than wine, I think, slamming cupboard doors as I go.

“What are you doing?”

I lift my head, staring at him over the counter. “Don’t tell me there isn’t a bottle of bourbon laying about somewhere.”

Sebastian runs his hands through his hair. “Are you going to stay?” When I don’t respond, he adds, “Please, just don’t leave.” 

I’m still fuming and standing in the kitchen, one hand on my hip, when he returns with two tumblers of amber liquid and hands me one. I throw it back, my eyes and throat burning, and slam the empty glass down on the counter so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break, then motion for him to give me the second glass. He does, and just for a second, I think he looks a little amused.

“Why don’t we sit down,” he says softly.

I shrug. I can already feel the bourbon taking effect, draining some of the rage from my body and I let Sebastian lead me over to the couches, and I know I’m making a huge mistake, that I should be out that door and never looking back, but instead I find myself sinking into the couch. Sebastian disappears into his library as I stare out at Fifth Avenue wondering how exactly everything went wrong with my night. It’s like some sick, cosmic joke.

When Sebastian finally perches on the couch next to me, a fresh glass of bourbon in his hand, he looks more like himself, which is to say calm and irritatingly handsome.

I take a sip of my bourbon. “Well?” I arch one eyebrow and wait for him to say something, anything.

He takes a deep breath, his green eyes focused on the glass in his hand. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Usually I’m a little more in control of my mental faculties, but being with you…” He trails off with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I certainly didn’t intend for it to sound quite so crass.”

I laugh bitterly. “Crass?” Seriously? Talk about the understatement of the year.

He lets out a reluctant sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean to offend you. And I obviously don’t think you’re a prostitute. Normally the women I’m with jump at the offer. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Normally?” I squeak.

“I meant it when I said I’m not looking for anything serious. I want you, Danielle, but this is how it has to be. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.”

“How does it work?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

“You’d sign a non-disclosure agreement and then we’d discuss specifics.”

“A non-disclosure agreement?” This just gets better and better.

“There have been some problems in the past.”

“What sort of problems?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Then what?”

He runs a hand nervously through his hair. “I’d pay you a set amount of money to be available to me.”

“You sure know how to suck all the romance out of an evening.” I laugh and drain my glass before waving it in front of him. He stands and takes it to refill. In the back of my mind, I know I’m not going into work tomorrow. In the two years I’ve been at the Gramercy, I’ve never taken a sick day. After tonight, I definitely deserve one.

Sebastian eyes me warily as he hands me the glass. I can see the silent warning in his eyes, and I know I should probably stop drinking, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Sebastian seems to realize that because he doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t understand. If it’s just a meaningless fuck you’re after, why pay me? I’ve had one-night stands before. I know the drill.”

He flinches. “I’m not looking for a one-night stand.”

This admission surprises me but I try not to show it. “Then why offer me the money?”

This time it’s Sebastian who laughs bitterly. “If you haven’t noticed, I have money. A lot of it.”

“I don’t give a shit about how rich you are.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Sex is always about money. I like knowing how much it will cost me from the start.”

I stare at him, unsure of how to respond. He looks tired, defeated. I want to reach out and touch his face, but I don’t. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say, struggling to my feet. And I mean it. Relationships should never be about money, and the thought that that’s what this gorgeous man believes, well, it doesn’t speak highly of the women he’s been with. I sway slightly, the bourbon definitely affecting my fine motor skills. “How much am I worth?” I can’t help myself. Call it morbid curiosity, but then, no one has ever offered to pay me for sex before.

Sebastian lets out a defeated sigh before he tells me and I pale at the number that comes out of his beautiful sculpted lips. It’s more than I make in a year. The thought is dizzying and I sway slightly.

Sebastian jumps to his feet and is by my side in an instant. “Are you okay?” Concern clouds his voice as he takes the bourbon from my hand and places a warm palm on my spine, steadying me. His touch makes my already fuzzy brain more confused and I try to push him away, but he’s insistent, refusing to let go.