my heart and take a breath, resuming my usual calm, unflappable exterior. ‘You’re having fun?’
‘Oh, yes.’ It’s slightly breathy. Her eyes shift over me for a second and her cheeks flush. ‘Definitely.’ She puts a manicured hand on my wrist, her eyes shining. ‘I’ve got some ideas for the next Sydney gala. I’ll email you.’
I smile. Life goes on. Things move forward. With or without Nicholas, the club will continue, the membership will grow, the charity will survive. But my heart won’t recover. I have never been in love before, but I don’t think you need to have first-hand experience to know that love has transformative powers.
I love Nicholas, and my life will never be the same after he leaves.
I have to tell him.
Orla slinks off, her beautiful dress caressing her frame. I watch her for a second and then turn back to Nicholas. His grin is pure, devilish playboy.
He doesn’t love me, and all telling him will achieve is a premature end to this.
He won’t take me home tonight; it will be over and I need that not to be the case.
One more night, one more night of fun and sex and pretending this is casual when I know it isn’t. At least, not for me.
‘I have to circulate,’ I say softly.
‘I expected as much.’ But then, leaning even closer, ‘You’re sure you don’t want to try out an Intimate Room? I can get some handcuffs…’
And despite my breaking heart, heat blooms through my body. ‘Later.’
He laughs. ‘Count on it.’
His use of the phrase I utter so often pulls at me, because it is this phrase that led him to discover I was Miss Anonymous. Would I take it back if I could? Would I make it so this never happened?
No. Not in a million years. Even as I feel my heart breaking, I know I would never wish we hadn’t shared this. Nicholas has changed me, and I think for the better.
I continue to circulate, brushing past the billionaire property developers Ash Evans and Sebastian Dumont just in time to catch them shaking hands, Ash laughing at something Sebastian’s muttered.
This is what the club promises its members. It’s a safe place to do business, to network and to relax. It’s a safe place but not, as it turns out, for me.
I run my tongue over his tattoo, hating it in that moment, because I don’t want Nicholas to be his own. I want him to be mine. I flick his hair-roughened nipple, enjoying the feeling of his chest lifting, his breath snagging in his lungs as I move lower. His naked body is tanned against the matte black of his sheets. I kiss my way down his body, tasting his flesh, remembering everything I can about this, taking his hard cock into my mouth, absorbing the guttural oath he spills into the room as I move my mouth up and down, my nipples tingling, heat pooling between my legs.
I will never get sick of this. Him, me, naked. I want this to last for ever.
But it is already approaching dawn, and I hate that. Never have I wanted a night to last longer than I do this night.
I taste a hint of his salty pre-cum and then his hands are under my arms, pulling me up his body, his mouth seeking mine, his frame rolling me, so I’m on my back, his arousal hard between my legs. I arch my back and spread my legs wide, wordlessly begging him to take me, to make love to me, needing his body to console mine in the only way he can.
But he breaks the kiss and reaches across me. I hear a drawer and then something metallic. His hands curve around my wrists; he pulls them to the bedframe and then cold metal surrounds me. I pull on my hands. They’re cuffed to the bed.
I stare up at him, my eyes wide, lips parted.
‘Do you trust me?’
My stomach swirls with acid. ‘With all my heart.’
His smile is sensual. A second later, his hands are trailing over my flesh, so light, barely touching me, and I’m crying his name out over and over. His mouth follows them, his tongue flicking my nipples, as he moves lower with his hands, spreading my legs to make way for his mouth.
His tongue is gentle at first, running over my seam, exploring me, rediscovering me. I thrash from side to side, my handcuffed wrists a new form of torture as I ache to touch him or touch myself, to do something to relieve this tidal wave of sensation.
‘Please,’ I groan, incapable of saying anything else. He keeps my legs pinned wide as he sucks my clit into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. I am on fire; I am burning up. ‘Please,’ I whimper, needing him, needing more, needing everything.
He pulls away, up my body, his mouth finding my nipples, his hands roaming my skin freely, inquiringly, and I’m so hungry for him I can barely cope. I need to feel him inside me.
‘I want you,’ I beg.
‘I know.’ His smile is tighter now, tension on his face. He pauses, rolling a condom over his length, and hope is a beast inside me.
His eyes hold mine as he pushes his rock-hard arousal into my wet core; my muscles spasm around him and I jerk against the handcuffs, wanting to touch him now, to feel his muscles bunch beneath me as I run my hands over his skin.
His laugh is soft, a caress against my skin. He moves inside me, deeper, and I groan, surrendering to this completely. My body is an instrument and he plays me with perfection.
Dawn is coming. Even in winter, when the sun rises later, nothing staves off morning’s eventual appearance. I watch him sleep, my own eyes heavy, my mind heavier, my heart a dead weight.
I love him, and I have no hope that he loves me back. For me, this has been completely unprecedented. For Nicholas, this is his life, his norm. I have no reason to think anything has changed for him since we started up with this, whereas all the boundaries of my world have shifted.
My eyes run over his beautiful face, disbelief curdling my insides.
This is so much harder than I thought it would be.
I shift in the bed.
A coffee will help.
I step out quietly, drawing one of his shirts from the wardrobe and pulling it over my nakedness as I prowl through to the kitchen.
It’s snowed overnight. When I look down from the windows, I see the pavement is white like chalk, cars covered in a pale, sparkling blanket. I press a button on the coffee machine, cursing as it stirs to life. Even though it’s quiet, it’s not silent, and I look towards his bedroom door in time to see Nicholas shifting in bed. He looks for me and my heart groans, because I’m his first thought on waking.
How can this be the end?
He disappears from view and a second later steps into the lounge area, a pair of grey boxer shorts low on his hips. My eyes find his tattoo
