Forbidden Nights Read online

  Next, the car made its way to the west side, stopping by the Nate’s apartment.

  “Be right back,” he said as the car pulled up to the curb.

  “I need to pee. I’m coming with you.”

  When they stepped out of the car, they both froze, their eyes landing on a tall, gorgeous, completely captivating black-haired beauty with green eyes that were bewitching. She was dressed all in black—black tank top, black jeans, black lace-up boots, and a thin black scarf, even though it was June. Casey had never met her, and hadn’t even seen a photo, but there was no doubt in her mind this woman was the Dark Queen.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  New York, late night . . .

  His gut twisted. He hadn’t seen her in years, and perhaps if he had actually returned her calls he wouldn’t be seeing her tonight. But he didn’t want to return her calls, or respond to her emails, so he hadn’t done either. She couldn’t possibly have anything to say that he would need or want to hear.

  He started walking into his building, like a man on a mission. Maybe he could even ignore her and march straight up to his apartment, grab his suitcase, change his shirt, and act as if he’d never seen her. Hell, maybe she was simply an apparition.

  But judging from the tension on Casey’s face, the way her lips were parted and her jaw dropped, Joanna was very much real, in the flesh, and waiting for him.

  “Nate!” Joanna took a step towards him. He took a step away. She took another step. He closed his eyes briefly, wishing her away, then opened them. She was still here.

  “Yes?” He could’ve said why are you here, what are you doing, what do you want, but he didn’t want to give her the courtesy of that many words.

  “You haven’t returned my calls or responded to my messages,” she said, sounding oddly apologetic. “So I had no choice but to come here in person.”

  “Actually, you did have a choice. You had a choice not to find me. You always have a choice. You just chose different things. Let’s not confuse the issue, Joanna,” he said, biting out the words. Perhaps he had more to say to her than he’d thought.

  She nodded, seeming to admit that he was right. “In any case, I’m here because I wanted to see if you still have the sculpture of your hands.”

  The world slowed. Her strange request echoed in his ears, and he was sure he was hearing things. This is what she wanted from him? A work of art?

  “That’s why you’re here?”

  “Yes. There’s a museum in Chicago that’s putting together an exhibition of all my work, and that seems to be the one missing piece. I hope it’s not too much to ask, but I really think it could round up the exhibition quite nicely. And, truth be told, I was always rather proud of it.”

  He scoffed, his derisive huff carrying into the breeze of the warm June night, trailing over the noise of the cars and buses on Columbus Avenue. “Well, in that case, since you’re proud of it, let me just go take it off my dining room table where it’s the centerpiece,” he said staring hard at her. “I like to enjoy it every night. Have dinner with it. Gaze at its beauty. I’m rather proud of it too. But since you want it, I will of course give it to you.”

  She pursed her lips, lifting her chin up high. He wondered how he’d ever been in love with her. As he looked at her now, he had no clue how he’d intended to share his life with this person who only cared about taking—taking what she wanted, when she wanted it, at any time. But that was his big problem—he hadn’t seen it coming. He’d had no clue that he couldn’t trust her. He might possibly be the worst judge of character when it came to love, and he damn well needed to stay far away from the foolish emotion.

  “Touché,” she said calmly, then gestured to Casey and extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Joanna Simone. You must be?”

  His ex-wife stood there waiting for an answer from Casey, and that made his blood boil. But Casey was classy, always classy, and she took her hand, saying, “Casey. I’m Nate’s friend.”

  Joanna turned her focus back to Nate, tapping her toe. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but might you have it?”

  Nate winced. He honestly didn’t know, but he was pretty sure he’d packed it up and stuffed it into the back of a closet somewhere. “I’m not sure,” he muttered.

  “I’m happy to pay you for it. I certainly don’t expect you to simply hand it over.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much. That’s really amazingly generous of you to offer to pay me back for a wedding present, but I don’t need your money, and you know what? I don’t want those stupid hands,” he said, spitting out the insult, hoping it stung. But the presence of Casey, mere inches from him, was the only thing that made him smooth out the next few words so they weren’t filled with the vitriol inside him. He didn’t want her to know that he still harbored this kind of anger towards his ex-wife. “But I’ll check, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thank you,” Joanna said on a nod. “I’m ever grateful. If you have it, I would really like to get it by next week. If that’s doable.”

  Casey stepped in. “We’ll get back to you. Thank you for stopping by. We have a plane to catch,” she said, then she wrapped her hand protectively around his arm, and the way she touched him made all his anger dissipate. It was like a pin deflating a balloon, and all he felt now was some kind of calm, some kind of peace.

  They walked into his building quietly. Once they stepped into the elevator, he pressed the button for the top floor, leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Her warm body pressed against his. It wasn’t sexual, and it wasn’t the start of something. It was simply comforting, and he needed it, so he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.

  “I’m sorry you had to see her,” she whispered.

  “Me too,” he said. “But I’m glad you were here.”

  “Do you want me to look for that sculpture? So you don’t have to? I can be the one to return it to her.”

  He pulled back momentarily. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course. Unless you want to drop it from a window and smash it on the sidewalk. I’m completely fine with that too.”

  He grinned briefly. Only Casey could do this for him. Take him in all these directions. Take him through lust and passion, through business and babies, and then from rage to laughter in mere seconds. He didn’t deserve her, but oh, how he wanted to give her what she needed from a man.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Over the Atlantic . . .

  Maybe Kat was right, because the spell Joanna had worked on Nate still seemed to be going strong. He was quiet most of the flight, chatting only briefly with her and with a few of his employees who were sharing the plane. He also slept across most of the Atlantic, and so did she. But they were both awake now and he was more subdued than usual, bordering on sullen. She certainly didn’t expect him to be a barrel of monkeys, or to be flirtatious with her in front of everyone, but she knew that he wasn’t himself, and that he hadn’t quite yet emerged from his Joanna funk. He’d been nose-down in his laptop for the last hour as the sun rose across the Atlantic.

  His frown was like a cut in her skin. It burned, and she wanted the cure. She wanted to seal off the pain, and feel good again. That was wholly selfish, she knew, but there it was. More so, her heart lurched towards him, and she desperately wanted to ease his mind, to be the one to take him away from this sadness his ex-wife had draped over him. She could be that person, right? She knew this man, and she knew him even better now that they’d been spending these nights together. She could be his Sherpa and guide him up and over this mountain of gloom.

  There was one surefire way.

  She took out her iPad and opened her email. A note popped up. Crap. Ethan at Victoria Hotels had emailed her the other week and she’d meant to respond, but then was sidetracked, so she’d flagged the note as important. With it blaring in her face now, she skimmed the contents: Idea for partnership . . . would love to discuss . . . proposal attached. She banged out a quick reply simply so she wou
ldn’t have to keep reminding herself: Promise to look at this in detail shortly! Thanks for thinking of us. More soon.

  Then, she started a new email. Her fingers hovered over the keypad as she screwed up the corner of her lips, trying to figure out where to start. Something dirty. But something funny too. That was a hard combo for Nate to resist.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:12 AM

  subject: Dirty Jokes

  Knock, knock . . .

  Crossing her legs, she peered at him over the top of her iPad, waiting for the moment when he opened his email. He sat across from her, the oak table between them, his COO a few seats over, and a pair of his VPs still sound asleep in their chairs a couple rows near the back. In the meantime, she clicked open a browser window to look up the open hours for a popular London attraction. A minute later, he raised his eyes briefly at her. A new email landed in her inbox.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:14 AM

  subject: I’ll bite.

  Who’s there?

  She reined in a grin as she tapped out a reply. Admittedly, knock-knock jokes were not the pinnacle of sophisticated humor. But Casey had an arsenal of them now, thanks to Nelle, so why not call on the low-hanging fruit of a knock-knock joke to entertain the man she cared so deeply for?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:15 AM

  subject: I approve of your biting.

  Gladiator.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:16 AM

  subject: Show me the spot where I bit your collarbone yesterday afternoon.

  Gladiator who?

  A hint of heat bloomed across her cheeks from his subject line command. She shot him a look that was both flirty and dirty as she subtly tugged at the scoop neck of her soft purple shirt, revealing the spot where he’d bitten down hard during a quickie at her house that involved her in handcuffs, and him putting her under arrest. He raised an eyebrow approvingly, then she returned to her screen.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:19 AM

  subject: You like marking me?

  He’s gladiator before they screwed.

  Nate laughed softly, then looked up. Good one, he mouthed. There’s more where that came from, she said, letting him read her lips too.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:26 AM

  subject: Yes, I fucking love marking you.

  And more of you coming. There will be more of that very soon.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:29 AM

  subject: The other way around

  Or maybe more of you coming . . . very soon

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:31 AM

  subject: Tell me more of your plans

  It’s getting hard to concentrate in here . . .

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:33 AM

  subject: I will tell you and show you

  Want to know what I’m thinking of?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:36 AM

  subject: Let me guess

  What I plan on doing to you tonight?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:39 AM

  subject: Wrong guess

  Sooner than that. What I plan to do to you this morning.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:42 AM

  subject: TELL ME NOW

  NEED TO KNOW

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:49 AM

  subject: Picture this

  It involves my lips and your cock.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:51 AM

  subject: Image is burned on my brain

  That’s a favorite combination of mine. You have been remiss in sucking my dick, incidentally, Miss Casey.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:54 AM

  subject: Forgive me

  I plan to rectify that. Soon.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:56 AM

  subject: I will forgive if you suck good and hard

  Do you?

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 8:59 AM

  subject: Is there any other way?

  Yes. Because you only gave me that one taste our first night together, and I want more. I want to feel you lose control for me. Let go for me. I want to taste you sliding down my throat.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 9:02 AM

  subject: No

  Can. Not. Think. Straight. Now. All. Blood. Diverted. South. Of. The. Border.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 9:05 AM

  subject: Staring at your hard-on right now, you sexy man

  I want your hands in my hair, and I want you deep in my mouth.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 9:07 AM

  subject: You fucking temptress

  You are playing with fire, my sweetness. When I get you alone in the room, the things I will do to you will drive you wild with pleasure.

  from: [email protected]

  to: [email protected]

  date: June 20, 9:09 AM

  subject: Tempting you is what I like

  The things I will do to you.

  She snapped her iPad shut, and flashed him a satisfied grin. She had plans for him when they landed. Big plans. A rush of excitement tore through her body. It felt foreign at first, then quite familiar. It was a feeling she hadn’t embraced in a few weeks, but it was one she had loved—being in control in bed.

  Even though what she’d planned for him wasn’t going to take place in a bed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  London, mid-morning . . .

  As the green awnings came into view, Casey shrieked in excitement and pointed.

  At the other end of the block was the signature London department store with its elaborate red brick facade, and flags blowing in the breeze. She grabbed his arm. “Remember I told you about the dress I needed for Jack’s rehearsal dinner? They have them in Harrod’s. Is there any chance I could pop in for just five minutes? They’ve been selling out quickly and I heard they got a new shipment in last night.”

  Ah, hell. Not now. Not when they’d be at the hotel in ten more minutes. Every single second until he was alone with her was agonizing.

  Nate was ready to launch into a myriad of questions to poke holes in her proposition, starting with how the hell would she know a store received a new shipment, and why did she need to go now, but he didn’t have a chance to ask, because she was already telling the driver to make a pit stop, then asking his co-workers if they would mind waiting. “I swear it’ll just be a quick in and out,” she said to the lot of them, in the sweetest, most eager voice, press
ing her hands together as if in prayer, that led Tom and the other guys to say of course. Damn, the woman was irresistible, even when asking to go shopping. He was such a goner.

  She pushed open the door, and grabbed Nate’s arm.

  “You need me?”

  She shot him a wide-eyed stare. “Yes.” Then came a roll of the eyes. “I need your opinion on the dress, since you’re the best man. I told you about this dress before.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Best man’s duties,” he grumbled, and in seconds, she’d grabbed his hand and was tugging him through the mid-morning crowds, bustling along the street, and then through the door the green-uniformed doorman held for them.

  “I swear I don’t remember discussing a dress at Harrod’s,” he said on the escalator, because he could have done without the detour. He was dying to get to the hotel and take her. Just fucking take her. Throw her on the bed, rip off her panties, and slide into her heat. Anything for some relief for his aching balls. The relentless pressure in his dick from her emails and the images they’d stirred up was nearing painful levels, and he’d kept his computer bag on his lap for the entire ride into the city from the airport. The only thing that had kept him from pouncing on her in the car was the presence of those co-workers.

  His brain functions had been reduced to a one-track level. He didn’t give a shit about lessons, or seduction, or submission. All he wanted was to have her. To own her body. To finish what she’d started.

  “Yes. I told you,” she said insistently, waving her hand in the air as if she were trying to get him to recall a long-forgotten conversation. “The Herve Leger. You forgot?”

  She parked her hands on her hips and stared at him pointedly. He stared at her hips. At her jeans. At her long legs. Her heels. He plotted the fastest course to stripping off the denim when they finally reached the hotel.

  Yank the jeans down to the knees, and bend her over the bed. Ass in the air, her elbows on the bed, her back bowed.

  He jammed a hand in his hair. He needed to find a way to be near her without operating like a walking hard-on. Because that’s all he was right now. A man led by his balls. She could have asked him to jump, and he’d be twenty feet in the air.