For 100 Days(91)

“Fuck, I needed that,” he utters hoarsely against the side of my neck as we lie there together, our bodies still connected. He lifts his head, frowning as our gazes meet and hold. “I needed you, Avery.”

Whether he means it as an accusation or admission, I can’t be sure.

“You have me.” It’s the truth, and I can’t deny it from him. Not even when all of the warnings I’ve been given about getting too close to him clamor in my head like alarms. I reach out and caress the rigid slope of his cheek. “There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

His frown deepens in his answering silence, but his gaze does not break mine. And for the briefest second, I see what he cannot—or will not—put into words.

I matter to him. I’ve gotten inside.

If only for this moment, I’ve slipped through his forbidding walls.

But then he blinks and those emotional shutters of his fall back into place as firmly as an iron gate. He rolls off me, out of my reach.

“Stay here,” he says, removing the spent condom as he gets out of bed.

I watch him walk into the adjoining bathroom, trying not to feel abandoned to my feelings and the swiftly cooling sheets. After disposing of the condom, he walks out of the bedroom, back toward the living area of the apartment.

He returns a moment later holding something behind his back.

I sit up near the edge of the bed, folding my legs beneath me. “What are you doing?”

Naturally, he doesn’t tell me. “Close your eyes,” he says as he approaches.

“Nick—”

“Close them.” I obey on a huffed, impatient sigh. “Now, hold your hands out in front of you. Palms up.”

I comply, waiting to feel him place something in my hands. But he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps a length of something sleek and cold around my wrists. I gasp at the sensation, my mind working to process what I’m feeling. Small, cool spheres press against my skin in a long strand, clicking softly as they are wrapped and twined around my crossed wrists.

“Beads?”

Nick doesn’t answer. Remaining maddeningly silent, he continues to bind my hands together. The bond is tight, but not so much that I couldn’t break free if I wanted. And the cool beads have now begun to warm from my body’s own heat.

“You can open your eyes now.”

My lids lift and I glance from his hooded gaze to the gleaming strand of pearls that are wound no less than half a dozen times around my wrists. I don’t have to ask if they’re real. This is Nick, after all. But even with my limited firsthand experience with fine things, I can tell the creamy pearls are authentic. And must have cost a small fortune.

“A little something I picked up for you in London.”

“You can’t be serious.”

And yet he is. His expression is enigmatic, but his eyes study me intently. “I hope you like them.”

Like them? I’m wearing easily multiple tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of gemstones as casually as if they’re the rope line off the Icarus. “They’re . . . incredible, Nick. They’re too much.”

“As soon as I saw them, I knew I wanted to see them on your naked skin.” His smile is decadent. “And now that I have, I can think of several other interesting ways I’d like to see you wearing them.”

Just the suggestion sends a rush of heat to my core. “You’re crazy.” I shake my head, overwhelmed by his gift, and the fact that he would lavish this kind of luxury on me. “I don’t think I can accept—”

“Yes, Avery. You can. And you will, because it pleases me to see them on you.”

He reaches out, gathering my face in his hands. Leaning toward me, he takes my mouth in a slow, searing kiss. I melt into him, helpless to do anything but bend to his will now. As I shift on the bed to meet his possessive kiss, the pearls slide against one another. The thought of damaging the gems is almost too much for me to take.

“I’m afraid they’ll break.”

“They won’t.” He smoothes a strand of loose hair from my face. “So long as you’re honest with me—and with yourself—these pearls are stronger than any rope. They’re stronger than steel. Like trust, Avery, the only way they’ll break is if you pull away from me.”

Trust. Honesty. Two things I’ve never been able to give another man—not to anyone in a very long time.

Nick has my trust. He has my honesty, too, at least when it comes to the passion we share. The obsession we both feel for each other is real. I’ve never been more honest about something in my life.

In bed with him, I have no barriers. And I want it all. I want to give him everything too. I won’t let myself think about all of the things I can never have with him.