Disclaimer: none of the real ones is ours, just the made up characters.
Rating: NC 17
Chapter Three
Nina wiped the bar for a last time and checked to make sure all of the glasses were in order. She brought the earnings of the night to the safe in Dante's office and went for her jacket, all in a state of absolute sleepwalking. She should have slept a couple of hours in the day, but the sightseeing had taken most it, and then she hadn't been able to even take a nap. The jet lag had hit her like a hammer.
Next to her jacket was Billy's suede jacket, the one he had left in the pub the night before. She would send it back to him and get over with whatever it was between them...
As she locked the door to the Swan, she looked around, hoping there would be no thugs that night. And there weren't. But Billy was leaning on the wall of the alley, waiting for her.
Nina sighed loudly. She was too tired to argue, too tired to send him away, too tired for anything. "What the hell are you doing here, William?" she asked.
"Why, lass, waiting for ye of course. I'd had to be sure that thugs one to three weren't coming back taenight," he said.
"It is really touching, kilt boy, But I really can take care of myself. And you cannot pull your Bruce Lee routine every night for my benefit. So you see, no thugs, nothing wrong, good night!" she said tiredly and turned to leave.
She noticed his jacket on her arm and gave it to him. "Here you go, William. Have a nice life, bye"
Billy didn't make a move toward the jacket. He didn't even look at it. His smile was enigmatic. "It isn't that easy, Ginny. Yae've pulled me into yer life, and now, like it or not, I'm here." His accent rolled the vowels and clipped the consonants... and turned her insides to complete mush.
Nina opened her mouth, and then shut it again. Scowling, she stomped off toward the street, already lifting her phone to summon a cab.
There was already a car waiting curbside. A nice one.
She turned to Billy, mute in combined fury and confusion. The fact that she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss in the Tower only added to her muddle.
"Ian has a service," Billy explained, opening the car door and gesturing for Nina to climb in. "I thought ye might be tired and would rather ride back tae yer flat than take the tube."
Nina climbed in and burrowed into the far corner. He was right. She hadn't been looking forward to the walk, and then the jostle of the underground at night. She muttered what passed for a "thank you," but she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. What had she ever done to make him think she would welcome a kiss? Or anything else?
The car pulled out into to traffic with a gentle nudge. Nina's eyes slid involuntarily to Billy's mouth. Suddenly that "anything else" didn't seem too awful. It seemed… she shook her head. God, what was she thinking? She must be beyond exhausted.
"Long night at the pub?" Billy asked, reading her mind.
"Yeah," Nina replied, giving in to the soft rocking motion of the car. She leaned her head back against the leather upholstery and sighed. "Guess I never realized how hard it is to tend a bar."
Billy didn't say anything right off, and after a few minutes, Nina opened her eyes and looked at him. He was still smiling softly. Or did his mouth just naturally settle into that Cupid's bow?
"And how hard is it?" Billy asked, his grin widening just a little.
Suddenly, Nina felt all the air leave her lungs. Had he meant that innocently? But his eyes… she was nearly certain that Billy had just asked her something unfathomably naughty. She felt her mouth go dry.
"Pretty damn hard," she said.
"Come over here, then, lass," Billy said softly.
Nina must've looked shocked or embarrassed or something, because Billy chuckled. "I won't eat ye, love. Just thought a nice rub on the neck might relax ye a little."
Once again, his voice and expression were pure-as-the-driven-snow innocent. Had she imagined the naughty innuendo? Nina's thoughts blurred, but she scooted over on the warm leather and felt him move her hair aside gently. Bracing his hands on either side of her neck, he dug his thumbs slowly into her shoulders. Nina couldn't help the low moan of appreciation.
"There, lass," he murmured. "Poor sort of vacation so far, isn't it?"
Nina nodded, feeling her eyes tear unexpectedly. She wasn't a weepy sort, but she was horribly tired, and her defenses were crumbling all over the place. His fingers were warm and solid against her aching shoulders and neck.
"How're Ian and Nick?" Nina asked, sleepiness in her voice. His hands were drawing her ever closer to the velvet darkness of sleep. Nina gave up and let them lead her.
"Better," Billy said. "They seem tae have gotten some things straight. Or," he paused, as if he'd just made a gaffe. Nina was too fuzzy headed to wonder what it was. But after a moment, Billy continued, "Anyway, they were all hugs and kisses when I left. We're planning tae leave at the end of the week together, in fact."
Nina stiffened. "You're leaving too?"
Billy's fingers were relentless, soothing her muscles, promising things he had no business promising. Nina slumped against him, and those fingers dropped down to her sides, coming around to circle her waist and rest finally on her belly. She leaned her head back on his chest.
"Aye, Ginny. My friend is getting married in Oklahoma at the end of the week. I have tae go."
His voice sounded regretful, but there was an odd note beneath it. If Nina were fully awake and alert, she would have recognized the undertone of calculation. But his kneading hands and her exhaustion had made her surprisingly unwary. Even now, her attention was more focused on the lazy circles he was tracing on her belly.
"Oklahoma? That's back in the good ol' U S of A," she murmured.
"It is," Billy agreed. And after a minute, "Would ye like tae come?"
Not circles. Figure eights. He was drawing figure eights on her belly. And she was getting decidedly tingly. Not a good thing. Nope. Nina shifted a little, turning her cheek against his chest. God, he smelled good.
"Come?" she murmured, her eyelids drooping. "I'd love to."
"To Oklahoma? Really, lass?"
Oklahoma? What about Oklahoma? Nina forced herself to focus, and she remembered that someone was getting married. In Oklahoma. And she'd agreed to go. Strange, but not horrifying. Billy would be there. And Ian and Nick. And nobody in Oklahoma would ask her to mix a cosmopolitan. Heaven.
"Yeah," Nina confirmed. She was just about to ask when they were supposed to go when the car stopped. They must be at Dante's flat. Nina forced herself upright, then turned her head, meeting Billy's green eyes over her shoulder.
"Wanna come up for a spot of tea?" she asked in a low voice.
Billy's eyes widened, and Nina almost laughed out loud. Instead she crawled over him and unlatched the door, stepping out into the humid, cool night air and knowing that he would follow. She didn't look back even once, feeling in the back of her neck that he was following her into the apartment.
Billy sent the car away, and followed her as if in trance. He had been enjoying the feel of her in his arms, and the massage had been pleasant, so very pleasant. He had not expected her to give in to the innuendo, but now there he was, in her brother's flat, and she was serving tea. And what next? He definitely did not want to ruin this. She was just too intriguing for him.
Nina came from the kitchen with a cup in each hand. She sat on the couch, and Billy sat by her side, close but not touching her. She handed the cup to him and their fingers touched. A shot of electricity went through their connected skin. Billy heard Nina's sharp intake of breath and looked up into her face. Her dark eyes were wide, there was a soft smile on her lips and he knew she was aware of where this could lead them.
He took her hand off the cup and pulled her closer. She did not resist but slid slowly over until they were close, face-to-face.
"Ginny love, we don'a have to rush things, ye know. We are friends and…" he started saying.
"Please, shut up. You ensnared me in the car like a spider catches a fly. And I am well caught. What do you want from me, William?" she said in a husky voice, her eyes set on in his, her face mere inches away.
Billy felt that he was the one well caught now, because he couldn't turn away from her, even if he wanted to. And he didn't.
"Jesus Christ, Ginny, I want ye, all of ye," he whispered on her lips before kissing her.
This time she melted into him, responding to his kiss, settling her hands on his neck. It had been a very long time since she had been that close to anybody. And she wanted to revel in all the sensations he was provoking in her. He felt right.
Billy somehow sensed he had to go slow with her. She was special, and he would make sure that she remembered this night. And him.
Her hands went to the collar of his shirt and she stroked lightly the soft skin of his neck, her fingertips then gliding slowly to the stubble on his cheeks. Billy shivered as he interrupted the kiss and she continued tracing his face with her fingers, as if learning it by touch. He smiled at her and his hands went to her face, reciprocating the soft caresses.
"Ah, there is a very nice spot that needs to be tasted," he said teasingly, as he leaned into her and started kissing and nibbling at the soft skin under her ear.
Nina gasped, then chuckled, low in her throat.
"Just one? I can introduce you to some others, if you like," she suggested.
Billy pulled back, held her at arm's length, and looked at her. Poor dear, she was obviously sleepy.
He'd gotten her to agree to see him again. Mission accomplished. He should leave. Ah, but the very thought was painful. She was achingly beautiful: Strands of her thick, dark hair had come out of the hasty tie in back. The inky blackness licked her cheek, forehead, throat. Unthinking, he raised a hand and curled one lock about his finger. It felt like rope fringe on a sultan's pillow. Billy was breathing heavily, knowing that if she bothered to look, she'd see in a second how aroused he was.
"What is it?" Nina murmured, smiling.
Billy licked his lips thoughtfully. "Ye should finish yer tea," he told her, nodding toward the cup on the low table. Had he put it there?
"Are you afraid I'll fall asleep at an inopportune moment?" Nina asked. When he failed to respond, she obediently stood, lifted the cup, and set it to her lips. Holding his eyes, she blew on the warm liquid, then stuck out her tongue, touching the tip to the cup's porcelain rim, then dipping into the darkness.
The tea must be very warm; her tongue curled back, as if scalded. Nina lowered the cup thoughtfully and set it back on the side table.
"Hmm… too hot," she observed.
"Aye," Billy agreed, fully aware that they weren't talking about tea. "So hot, I think that pullover is wholly unnecessary."
He held his breath, wondering how she would respond.
Her long fingers traced the neck of the heavy black sweater. Then they slipped to the hem. In one smooth, languorous movement, she pulled it up, over her head, and shook her hair back. More curls sprang loose from the tie at her nape. One slithered over her shoulder and stood out in bold relief against her white tee shirt. Billy's breath came faster, and his fingers curled into the sofa cushions, longing to touch the dark aureoles peering from beneath the thin material.
"And the boots? They're kind of warm too, you know," Nina said. She bent and raised her trouser legs, one after the other, and unzipped and kicked off the tall black boots. When she was done, she straightened up, pulled an adorable moue, and put one hand on her hip.
"Now look what we've done," she said. "The pants are too long. Long enough to trip over, I think."
She looked down at him, and the challenge was obvious in her eyes. Billy leaned forward, sliding forward on the sofa. He reached forward and traced the waistband of her trousers, giving her this last chance to stop the madness.
"I can help with that," he told her, one hand spread over the buttons. She took a step forward, to give him better access, and Billy felt a little like singing. Or shouting with victory. Instead of doing either, though, he calmly unfastened her trousers and pushed them down to her ankles. She stepped out gracefully, then rolled off her knee-high stockings and stood before him, resplendent in her tiny red knickers and thin undershirt.
Billy pondered her navel, feeling the warmth radiate from her skin. He leaned forward, tasting salt and heat and woman. She trembled a little and threaded her hands into his hair. His tongue dipped and traced the low line of her red panties, and he heard her gasp raggedly. Smiling, Billy felt the friction of his whiskers scratching against her smooth abdomen. Billy looked up, then met her sultry eyes.
"Ye are beautiful, Giannina," he told her. She smiled in reply. Then, abruptly, Nina took a few steps back, removing her body from Billy's reach. Billy felt suddenly bereft, and more than a little confused.
"And you, William? Are you beautiful? Show me," she commanded. Her meaning was clear, even without the gesture toward his several layers of clothes. Billy flushed. He'd never done a strip tease before, and he'd never really wanted to. But Nina's eyes were glowing, sultry pools. She was aroused. By him. Billy was overwhelmed.
He stood, and calmly peeled off layer after layer of clothing, feeling her eyes burn his skin when he shrugged, at last, out of the final layer. He stood there, completely bare before her gaze. And did not feel at all awkward.
She exhaled deeply, nodding.
"So beautiful, William," she murmured, raking her gaze from ears to toes. With another nod, she turned, reached behind, and unfastened her hair tie. The mass of dark curls, so long held in place, didn't fight free right away. Nina, still with her back to him, tugged the hem of her shirt, wiggled, and pulled it over her head with a flourish. Now the dark cloud of her hair tumbled down her burnished copper back.
She tossed a glance at him over her shoulder and grinned.
"Coming?" Nina asked, taking a step toward a door that must lead to a bedroom. Billy gulped, fighting for breath. "As ye say, love," he replied, following her obediently.
*****************
Dante's decorating taste was fairly tame, but here and there were obvious nods to his personal whims. Take the tufted velvet headboard topped by a six-foot beveled rococo mirror, for instance. Nina saw her nearly nude body reflected in it the moment she stepped into the room, and she nearly stopped breathing right then.
She was Giannina: professional, respected executive. Not one of those girls who wedded at age twenty and bore a passel of noodle-slurping brats by thirty. Nina had gone to great lengths to forge her independent lifestyle, without men. Her independence had been a mantra for longer than she'd like to remember.
Which only emphasized the irony: here was Independent, Doesn't-Need-a-Man Nina leading some strange man into a bedchamber. And she hadn't a single chaste thought in her head.
For a half second, Nina panicked.
But then the image in the mirror changed. Behind the life-sized image of mostly-naked Nina appeared a sandy-haired, green-eyed man with the sweetest, most generous smile she'd ever seen. His arms and legs stretched taut over solid muscles, and she remembered his fearsome defense of her in the alley.
He lowered his head and nuzzled her neck from behind, and those long-fingered hands snaked around, cupping her breasts. His thumbs sought her nipples. Nina watched it all in the mirror, and the panic receded.
Nothing about this image looked wrong. It looked wonderfully, maddeningly right.
*************************
Nick kept looking at the antique dome clock on the mantle, then out the terrace doors. Nine o'clock. And Ian still hadn't gone to work. He still hadn't even woken up this morning. Nick nibbled on a croissant nervously. Should he go wake Ian up? Yeah, probably. Even though the notion of another long, boring day alone was far from cheerful.
Sighing, Nick hauled himself to his feet, brushed the croissant crumbs off of his flannel button-up.
He'd made some decisions the night before, watching Ian sleep. Now it was time to put action to words. Nick stopped off in the kitchen to fetch a breakfast tray, two more croissants, and a cup of strong tea.
Nick reached the top of the stairs and turned toward Ian's loft room… and heard the unmistakable sounds of water running. So, Ian was already up and getting ready to head over to the theatre. Nick felt his face fall into a pout, and he paused outside of the door, rearranging his features. He could never say what he had to say if he looked disappointed.
By the time he opened the door, he was smiling, even humming.
"Morning, love," he said, breezing into the room, holding the breakfast tray up.
Ian came out of the large master bath, toweling his face. He raised an eyebrow at the tray.
"Aren't we sharing breakfast, Nicholas? You brought tea for one..."
Nick blushed. "I wanted to bring you breakfast so you could be ready soon and eat before going to the theater, Ian" he said. "I might eat later."
He set the tray on the table by the window and sat down, watching Ian stroll over to him.
Ian was smiling at him with that amazing loving smile that made his eyes shine and made Nick's heart melt. He was so in love it was painful.
Nick looked away, to gather the courage to tell his resolution. "Ian, I am sorry for not having been very supportive the last few days. I know that you cannot devote all your time to me. You are an outstanding actor, a great man, and you owe it to the public to share your amazing talent," he sighed. "I will be here for you, if you want or need me, as long as you want me around. I love you and I want to see you happy and fulfilled. I will not bother you with my childish behavior anymore."
Ian walked up to Nick and gently cupped his lover's cheek. How was it possible that Nick was so sweet and loving? Ian recognized that this wasn't something he could ever expect to find again.
"Have I said you are a bother?" Ian asked. He sat on the bed, folded one long leg atop the coverlet, and inspected a croissant. Nick followed him to the edge of the bed, sitting gingerly. "No, you haven't. It's just… Ian, I don't want your career to suffer because of me. Really. So if being patient and making your breakfast and spending time with Billy or finding other ways to amuse myself will help you… Ian, I want to do those things. Here, in London, with you. I want to fit myself into the spaces in your life. If you'll let me." Nick's voice was calm, which he hadn't really expected. But that was what he needed to say. He held his breath for Ian's reply. Would Ian think Nick's suggestion was silly? Worse, would he feel stifled?
"Did you hear nothing I said yesterday, dear one?" Ian asked, no longer paying the slightest bit of attention to the croissant. "I don't want you to fill in the spaces in my life. I want to change my life to make space for you."
Nick let himself breathe. And slowly, the warmth of what Ian had said rained upon him, a thousand droplets of hope, seeping into his skin, making his soul hum.
"Really? I mean, don't just say that…" Ian reached across the breakfast tray and tenderly looped a stray dark curl behind Nick's ear.
"I do mean it," he said. "Stay, Nicholas. Here, with me."
Nick caught Ian's hand and held it for a moment. Then, without words, he pressed his lips, first to the hand, then to each finger in turn. Ian's other hand came to rest atop Nick's head, stroking his hair gently.
"As long as you'll have me," Nick said, at last. Then raising his head and shaking his floppy hair back, he grinned. "Now eat; you're already late for rehearsals."
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