A very, very, very long time later, the door of my apartment closed behind me with a soft click. Jill was reclining on the couch like an ocean goddess on vacation. Apparently she had decided to wait for me, in case I really did need rescuing from a sex dungeon. The moment I came in, she looked up from the book she was reading, and yawned.
"Ah, there you are. So, how was it at the beach? Cold and boring, hm?"
I looked at her—but I wasn't really seeing her. My eyes looked past her, to a beach on a distant island.
"No," I said, dreamily. "I don't think boring is the right word. And it definitely wasn't cold."
❤☠❤☠❤☠❤☠❤
What followed was a rush of dates, each one more spectacular than the last. Elliot took me to half of the most expensive restaurants in the city, to a picnic on top of the Empire state building, a dinner on a private sailing yacht, a weekend trip to Key West, and so on, and so on.
"He's so dark and mysterious, and simply unbelievable!" Sighing, I leaned back in the cafeteria chair and gazed dreamily at my cup of coffee. But I wasn't really seeing it. I was seeing Elliot's dark eyes, gazing at me from the other end of his luxurious private jet. "Half the time I think he wants to jump my bones, and half the time he seems a million miles away. It makes me want to grab him and shake him until he spits out what the hell is his problem! I just don't know what to make of him."
On the other side of the table, Jill sipped her coke. "And this is the man that you swore to me—only a couple of weeks ago, mind you—you had no romantic feelings for whatsoever?"
I blushed. "Yes!"
Jill smirked. "Just checking."
"I don't! Have romantic feelings for him, I mean!"
"Okay."
"You believe me?" I asked, suspiciously.
She shrugged. "Certainly not. But if you enjoy lying to yourself, who am I to object? Everyone needs a hobby."
"Jill!"
"Did you do the nasty with him yet?"
"Jill!"
"I'll take that as a no, girlfriend. But you have the hots for him—that's plain as the nose on your face."
"There's nothing whatsoever romantic between the two of us," I declared, haughtily. "Yes, all right, we happened to kiss once or twice—"
Jill raised an eyebrow.
"—Well, all right, maybe more often than once or twice, but still, that doesn't mean anything! He's never even mentioned the word love. In fact, he warned me specifically not to get involved with him that way. He's bad news, and I have a broken heart, and we both know that it's better for the two of us to stay away from each other."
"And yet," Jill pointed out with another grin, "you still go on fantabulous dates together where you have hot, intense makeout sessions."
I didn't bother to deny it.
The mad rush of dates continued. Almost every night Elliot swept me away to a secret spot, away from the world, where there was only us two and maybe the stars above. Jill was right about one thing: we kissed. Oh, how we kissed. I had never before experienced something like Elliot's kisses. Matt had been all right, and Chuck powerful and ravenous, but Elliot... he put special meaning in every movement, seductive mystery in every touch.
So why do you keep denying there's something special between the two of you?
The answer to that, of course, was easy: because I had to. I wasn't ready to fall in love again, and Elliot knew it. He knew that my heart had been broken twice over, and that I had almost sworn off love. Although I could see the magic word sparkling in his midnight blue eyes whenever he looked at me, he never spoke it, and I wanted to kiss him for it.
Then why not do it?
Hey, I know we had already been kissing! But so far, it had always been he who had kissed me, not the other way around. I hadn't done a single little thing! That was no way for a modern, emancipated serial killer to behave.
So I did it. I kissed him.
"What was that for?" he asked, one corner of his mouth slightly raised, when I pulled back from the whisper-light touch of lips on lips.
"For being you," I told him, not breaking eye contact for a second.
We were sitting on a bench of a rooftop café overlooking Central Park in the moonlight. The café had been closed for hours, but when you're on a date with the owner of the chain, little things like that tend not to matter.
He smiled more broadly. "Was that supposed to be a kiss?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because I don't really think it was. I hardly felt it."
"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Then what would you consider a kiss?"
Leaning forward, he stroked his fingers over my cheek, down towards my neck. The seductive touch of his fingers made me shiver a delight that I had thought was forever lost to me.
"This," he told me. Fixing me with his dark blue eyes, he closed the distance between us and melded his lips with mine.
Had I thought he had kissed me already? I had been mistaken. Oh yes, he had touched his lips to mine, had rekindled a fire in me that had been buried under a thousand tons of hurt and betrayal, but he had never really kissed me. Because when he did, right then and there, the world exploded.
Parting my lips with expert ease, he caressed my tongue with his, inviting it to a sensual dance it could not say no to—because I wouldn't damn well let it! The sensations that spread down my spine as Elliot expertly explored my mouth were too sweet, too dark, too dangerous not to taste. And once you had tasted them, tasted him, you wanted more. At least I did, very, very much.
I suddenly realized his hands were in my hair, stroking, tucking strands back behind my ear. His fingers found the tender spot of skin just behind my ear and began to caress it, stroking down towards my throat. And then his hands weren't the only thing that was down there.
I sucked in a breath when his mouth was suddenly away from mine—and another, bigger one, when his lips came down swiftly and deadly on the hollow at the base of my throat. Damn! That was unfair!
"Elliot!"
I had meant to admonish him—but his name on my lips sounded far too much like a breathy whisper.
"Cassidy!"
There wasn't a hint of admonishment in his voice. No, there was reverence, and need, and painful dark fire.
In one powerful movement, he rose from the bench we were sitting on, lifting me up with him and hugging me close. Very close. His face was only inches away from mine, his eyes burning into me.
"Oh God...last chance, Cassidy! Your very last chance! You should wrench yourself away and run! Run as fast as you can!"
My heart hammered faster than that of a hummingbird with cardiac arrhythmia. My tongue felt glued to the top of my stone-dry mouth. Still, somehow I managed to get out the words: "Run? Away from you? Why would I want to do that?"
"Because I'm going to tell you to come home with me—and you shouldn't! Not with what I have in mind for you."
My heart started to beat even faster. I was hyperaware of his hard body, so close to mine, of his elegant, powerful hands, gripping my waist, and most of all, of his eyes, deep and dark enough to drown in.
"What if I want to come home with you, Elliot?"
"That would be very, very dangerous."
Casually, I let one of my hands slide down my side. For a brief moment, I touched his hand where it was holding me—but that wasn't what I was going for. I slid my hand down further until it rested at the hilt of my knife. The corners of my mouth quirked up.
"I like danger."
"You'll find nothing but pain and heartache with me, Cassidy." His midnight eyes were absolutely sincere. "You should leave, trust me."
"Then why don't you just leave?"
"Because I can't. I have to have you. But you have to know what you're getting yourself into, Cassidy. So I tell you again: all I can offer you is pain."
I cocked my head, considering. There actually was a touch of dark irony to the situation. "So far, all the men I've met promised me love and happiness, and it all turned to misery in the end." I smiled at him. "Maybe it's time I tried it with someone who promises me misery. Who knows what may come out of it? In any case, I want to find out!"
He searched my face for a moment, looking for doubt. Finding none, his expression turned from dark to determined. Taking a step back, he fished his cellphone from his pocket and lifted it to his mouth.
"Nelson? Start the car. We're leaving. Yes, for the penthouse." Depositing the cellphone back in his pocket, he held out a hand to me. "Come with me!"
It wasn't a question.
"Yes!" Taking his hand, I let myself be led towards the elevator. I didn't even notice whether there were other people in there. Not for one minute did he let go of my hand, not for one second did his eyes waver from me. I could feel it: something was going down tonight—besides this elevator.
Ding.
Gliding to a halt, the elevator arrived downstairs and the doors slid open. Before I could move as much as an inch, Elliot had stepped forward and bent. For a moment, I didn't realize what he was doing—then he swept my legs out from under me and I fell into his arms, catching hold of him with a startled gasp.
"You lost the right to walk on your own two feet the moment you said yes," he whispered into my ear, his voice a sensual caress. "Tonight, Cassidy, you're mine."
Looking up into his blazing, midnight blue eyes I didn't really feel inclined to argue.
The building's lobby rushed past me in a silver-black stream of gleaming chrome and shining leather. The automatic glass doors slid open just a moment before Elliot would have crashed through them. He didn't look in the mood to stop for anything or anyone.
The sound of the city hit my ears, nothing more than a muted roar in the background. The beating of Elliot's heart just next to me and the pounding of my blood in my own ears was far louder, far more important.
"Mr. Winslow, Sir."
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Nelson holding the limousine door open. There was a slight smile on his lips, and I felt color rush to my cheeks—but I didn't mind.
"Nelson." Elliot spared his chauffeur nothing but a brief nod. The next moment we were inside, snuggled into the softness of the seat.
"You'll have to let go of me to put your seatbelt on," I informed him, rather reluctantly. I was feeling comfy in his arms. More than comfy, actually.
"I think I'll pass on safety in this instance, Cassidy. Nelson? Drive!"
The engine of the limo purred to life, and we were off. Only minutes later we came to a stop in front of what looked like a huge, pristinely polished ballroom mirror. But it wasn't. Looking up, I saw the supposed mirror stretching up, and up, and up—a solid front of glass, supported by steel, stretching as far as the eye could see.
I gulped. I lived in a skyscraper myself—well, in the basement of one—but this...
"You live here?"
Elliot shook his head. "No. I live about five-hundred feet away from here."
"Then why are we stopping?"
A smile tugged at the corners of his sinfully elegant mouth. "Because the car won't fit into the elevator."
And with that, he renewed his grip on me and slid out of the car, marching towards the front door. The doorman saluted the moment he caught sight of him.
"Mr. Winslow, Sir! Welcome home, Sir!"
"Thank you, Stevens."
In a flash, we were in the lobby and moving towards the elevator. There were a few other people, dressed in smart business clothes, standing around, chatting, walking, preparing to go out. When they caught sight of Elliot with me clutched in his arms, they all stopped what they were doing and stared. I waved in passing.
The elevator here didn't just have buttons—it had someone to push them for you. The bellboy in his bright red uniform gaped at the two of us for just a moment—then he caught sight of Elliot's cool glare and stood at attention.
"Penthouse," Elliot commanded.
"Yes, Sir!" the official button pusher answered, and pushed a button.
The journey upwards passed in silence, except maybe for the crackling of the static in the air between us. The presence of the bellboy in the elevator was quickly becoming an annoyance. Crap! It was the undeniable proof: too much luxury was bad for you!
Finally, the door slid open to unveil a corridor with one door at the end.
"Good night, Mr. Wins—"
That was all the bellboy got out before Elliot reached the door and kicked it open. Whirling around, he gave it a shove and slammed it shut again behind us, sealing us away in his own private realm.
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Hello there, my dear homicidal maniacs,
Oh dear, oh dear... What has Elliot in mind for our favorite black widow? ;) I'll do my very best to make it interesting! And not just in the way you might be thinking of... ;-)
Cheers
Sir Rob