Page 37 of So Close

“Yes, but I’ll need to work on my collection.” Pushing the velvet-lined drawer in, I shrug off the feeling that I’m naked without earrings.

“If I may, I have something to show you.” Witte extends his arm toward the sitting room.

I hesitate only a moment, reluctant to face the scene of last night’s mortification and failure. But since I can’t explain to Witte, I take a deep breath and lead the way.

Once I cross the threshold, I slow so he can pass me. He heads to the console table nearest my closet and stands before the mirror, pressing his thumb lightly on a heretofore unnoticed fingerprint recognition pad embedded in the frame. The mirror slides upward silently, revealing both that the hanging ribbons are an illusion and that the mirror conceals a safe. Another thumbprint later, he’s pulling out hinged black velvet trays. The top tray swings upward and tilts down, revealing rows of jeweled earrings. The middle drawer showcases tennis bracelets in a rainbow of colors. The lower drawer tilts downward and displays necklaces that range from delicate to statement.

I exhale in a rush. Millions of dollars in gems glitter in front of me. “That’s … quite a collection.”

My voice is breathy; I can’t help it. The collection you’ve amassed could be called nothing but monumental.

“For every success Mr. Black has achieved, he’s purchased a piece of jewelry to celebrate.” Witte’s gaze reveals the depth of his affection for you. He feels pain on your behalf. “They were selected for you.”

“He’s had a considerable number of successes.” I intended to sound nonchalant but failed in that, too. I don’t move; I can’t. I can only clutch my aching throat and fight off more tears. Could there be more definitive proof of your commitment to Lily’s memory?

I cannot compete with your first wife. She will forever and always be unattainable for both of us.

“Wear the emeralds.”

Since I’m already vibrating with emotion too big to contain, the sound of your voice rattles me violently. I turn and watch you cross the room, striding toward me with the same singular, predatory grace you displayed when we were drenched in moonlight. You rake me with a searingly slow glance that is tactile and … possessive. I feel as naked now as I was then.

Deep and low within my body, I quicken for you. Nervousness and hope flutter in my soul like moths’ wings. You’re wearing black dress slacks, gray dress shirt, and suspenders and tie the same hue as the shirt. You have left your jacket elsewhere. The perfectly proper attire, expertly tamed hair and cleanly cut jaw only emphasize the rawness of your sexuality.

It’s all a pretty cage, but there’s a beast in there, dangerous and untamed.

The room’s decor has the iciness of a diamond, and your clothing palette is cool, but you bring the fire. The temperature in the room increases. I’ve seen how your dynamic sensuality affects those around you. Women are drawn helplessly into your orbit, lured by that potent virility. The universe expended a great deal of energy to make you perfect, then ensured you’d be irresistible so you could propagate those gifts into the future.

You come to me as Witte leaves us. The physical recognition is immediate and profound. My body responds helplessly, warming and softening. I can’t take my eyes off your face, adoring the devastating handsomeness you wield so casually.

“These are almost as beautiful as your eyes.” You reach for a pair of large rectangular emerald drops on diamond-studded leverback hooks.

The compliment makes me dizzy with relief. I don’t care if it’s said for Witte’s benefit. After last night, any sign of warmth from you is life-giving.

You take one of the stunningly beautiful earrings, tuck my hair behind my ear and slide it into place, securing the back. I’m burning with desire; the feel of your knuckles brushing my jaw and neck is as intimate as if your hand were between my legs. You’re so close you fill my entire field of vision. There is no one else in the world. Only you.

You repeat the process on the other side, your breath softly stirring the hair at my crown. The smell of you goes to my head. I feel languid with intoxication.

It’s strange, the sensation of borrowing another woman’s jewelry. Another woman’s home. Another woman’s husband. Strange, yet I’m intimately familiar with all of it, withyou. I suppose it’s more dreamlike than anything. A place where everything is new, but I accept ownership after only a brief hesitation.

“And the bracelet,” you tell me, separating it from the peg it hangs on.

“Oh, why not?” Somehow, I manage to achieve the nonchalance I didn’t before.

You fasten it on my wrist, your touch spreading warmth throughout my body. Your thumb strokes over the scorpion tattoo guarding my pulse, and I tremble. I watch, breathless, as you lift my hand and lower your head to press a kiss to the crisply inked arachnid, your tongue flickering wickedly, tauntingly, over the eternal symbol and reminder of you.

I feel that tongue lashing everywhere all at once. My nipples harden visibly, unrestrained by the soft silk of my bra.

“Kane …” I want you to cup my face in your hands and kiss me. Embrace me. “Thank you. I love them.”

I love you.

You hold my gaze for a long moment. It’s a questing look, penetrating and somber. “You give them life,Setareh.”

Then you leave me, returning to the other side of the room, through your closet, and on to your bedroom beyond.

26

AMY

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