Asa hesitated, suddenly not so quick to respond. “Well… I- I didn’t…” For the first time, he stumbled over his words. Scowling, he looked away, and gathered his wits. “I said we couldn’t be alone.”
“But us bein’ alone leads to kissin’. Seems to me one event cannot happen without the other.”
Asa knew I was right. He wanted to prove me wrong, but he couldn’t. With his hands on his narrow hips, he gave a terse nod. “Yes, you’re right.” He emphasized this shouldn’t happen again, but now he looked more upset than me. “This is the last time.”
With my hands behind my back, I stepped toward him, and tilted my head back to look him in the eye. “Absolutely. Last time.”
When his chest met mine, my nipples hardened. Asa’s eyes dilated. His hands stayed at his sides, but they curled into small fists.
He dipped his head, his eyes focused on my mouth. I raised myself to my tiptoes .
“This is the very last time,” he said against my lips.
“Last time,” I agreed and closed my eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
1911
Asa
Tonight, would be the very last night.
It had to be.
I adjusted the lapels of my coat as I walked down the darken corridor of the Pleasonton’s home. The rest of the guests were in the sitting parlor having drinks.
They would never be mistrustful of me because I had never given them a reason to be. None of the guests would presume I was meeting a woman in one of the guest rooms in the Pleasonton’s home.
They’d hold those presumptions for libertines like Livingston, but not me. Never me.
That’s what made my departure from the party so easy. I made my exit with single-minded focus. I’d been thinking of this since the start of dinner.
I was becoming mad.
All for one woman.
That was why this had to end. Not because I didn’t want Nathalie. Because I wanted her more than was necessary. I treated my fascination with Nathalie as though it was an object. I viewed every angle, and just when I thought I had it figured out, I discovered something new I was intoxicated by.
My steps were quick as I moved up the stairs. The same stairs I’d ran up with Miles, Étienne and Livingston as a young boy as we rushed off to our next adventure. My hand gripped the banister and my footsteps slowed as I hesitated. They were no longer by my side, and now, I was rushing toward Nathalie.
The thought was akin to a bucket of cold water being thrown over my head, but it wasn’t enough to stop me. I continued up the stairs, taking them two at a time because Nathalie wasn’t a childhood adventure I would soon forget about. I needed every moment with her like my next breath. In fact, I was starting to become consumed with these liaisons. When I reached the second floor, I was nearly panting as though I was out of breath but it was only with anticipation.
I walked down the hall, past Rainey and Miles’ rooms, and when I reached the guest room, I didn’t balk and walked right in.
Nathalie was across the room by the window. When she heard me walk in, she turned.
Here it was. The perfect moment to tell her that I couldn’t see her anymore. But she smiled and I was immediately disarmed. She moved closer and the heady scent of vanilla and jasmine greeted me, and the words began to die on my tongue.
“I didn’t think you would come.”
If someone, right then, demanded I gave them my name, I couldn’t. There was only one name flowing in my mind and it started with N.
Nathalie, Nathalie, Nathalie.
Even her name was beautiful.
“I came before, didn’t I?” I asked.
She nodded.
My strides were purposeful as I walked to Nathalie. My hands curled around her jaw. Nathalie willingly tilted her head back, and comfortably settled her hands on my waist. She smiled at me with nothing but trust in her eyes.
I kissed her urgently, making up for all the moments I wanted her during dinner but couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Nat eagerly responded, her hands moving from my waist and up to my chest. I marveled at the sharp contrast that was Nat. Not even fifteen minutes ago I watched her politely make conversation with Mrs. Pleasonton. She was proper and kind to everyone she met and knew, but underneath that she was passionate and fiery. There was nothing proper about her.
She returned every touch and kiss of mine with one of her own. Her tongue slid against mine with ease and precision. Then she sucked on my tongue, and although she was no longer hesitant, there remained an eager naiveté to her. She was none the wiser to what she did to me, and the thoughts that she brought to my mind.
With a groan, I pulled back, my hands still cupping her face. Otherwise, she would be on the bed in seconds. Nat smiled at me with a dazed expression in her eyes. “Tu m’as manqué,” she said in perfect French.
I didn’t know if anyone had ever told me they had missed me. Something told me Nathalie would be the first and last person to say it, too.
My thumbs brushed against the soft skin of her cheeks. “Tu m’as manqué,” I repeated.
I meant every word. When I was with Nathalie, everything was right in my world. Once she left, I felt her absence. I didn’t just miss her. She was missing from me.
Knowing the two of us would part ways tonight caused me to slam my lips against hers. Nat stifled a gasp and twisted the material of my shirt around one of her small fists.
I couldn’t take my hands or mouth away from her as I guided the two of us across the room. We continued to move until the back of my feet hit the bench in front of the bed. I fell back onto it and continued to explore Nat’s mouth with my tongue. She followed me, her hands bracketing my head, her breasts brushing against my chest. My hand combed through her hair, and Nat softly moaned.
Her hands slowly and tortuously explored my chest. I was painfully hard, pressing against my pants. There was no possible way I could say no when she pulled the hem of my shirt out of my pants.
In the time we had spent together, I had discovered Nathalie’s favorite place on me was my chest. Her fingers would trail down my chest hair, to trace my abs. She would wear an expression of awe as she continued her perusal, unknowing that she was slowly torturing me.
Her fingers were quick on the buttons of my shirt. But I moved quicker. My hands flew down the row of buttons on the back of her dress with a quick efficiency that surprised even myself. Before dinner I saw her speaking with Rainey, I counted the buttons on her blue dress.
Fifteen.
They were small and delicate and while a local businessman beside me spoke to me about new railway lines that opened in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, I was theorizing the best way to open Nathalie’s dress.
“You have a bright future, boy. Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asked.
Inside Nathalie Calhoun.
The thought was devious and quick to move through my mind. But it was not a lie.
I had always believed self-restraint had never been a difficulty of mine. Yet every time I was alone with Nathalie, it was put to the test. I constantly had to remind myself there were boundaries I couldn’t cross, and Nathalie’s honor to think of.
There was a basic, primal instinct in me, though. It was selfish and greedy and reasoned I could be with her in every way. Because she would always be mine in every way.