A Sip of You (The Epicurean Series) (15 page)

I began to understand and, as I kept looking at the beauty of the women with the colorful sushi, the eroticism of William’s surprise dinner started to affect me. My fingers ached to grab my camera and capture the way the exquisitely prepared food caressed the curve of the woman’s hip, the slope of her breast, and the taut point of her nipple, but I ached to grab William too. I was starting to get turned on. Very turned on.

I realized no one had spoken for several minutes, and I glanced at William. His gaze was on me, his eyes twinkling. Obviously, he was enjoying watching me appreciate his surprise and seeing what it was doing to me. He knew. By some unspoken signal, Midori and Junzo exited. I felt William’s arm come around my waist, and he pulled me close into the warmth of his body. “Isn’t it gorgeous? I knew you would appreciate the visual presentation, which is why I asked you to bring your camera.” He bent down and kissed me softly, urging my lips apart with his tongue while his hand began to gently knead my breast. I moaned quietly into his mouth as I kissed him back, arching into his hand.

“It’s stunning,” I said as I pulled back from his lips. I was excited now for so many reasons. “Do you mind if take some—”

“That’s exactly what I’d like you to do,” he answered before I could finish.

I set my bag down and withdrew my camera. I needed to photograph this. William continued to talk as I prepped my digital to accommodate the dim light.

“
Junzo is a
shokunin
, a traditional master sushi chef, and perhaps the most famous one in Japan. He’s in his seventies now, and Midori is his daughter.”

I glanced up at him. I hadn’t realized Midori was the chef’s daughter. Was this a tradition he was passing on to her?

“Sushi chefs are heirs to the samurai tradition.”

Maybe I should have read
Shogun
before coming. I didn’t know much about samurai other than they were warriors. William continued to talk, his voice warm and velvety.

“They value scholarship and have unshakable self-discipline. A sushi chef's knives are as important to him as a sword was to a samurai. Junzo’s knives are legendary. I’ve heard it said that they’re sharp enough to literally split a hair.”

I glanced at the table again, wondering at the skill of a man who could wield such a dangerous knife to create such beauty. A warrior who carved art from shrimp and yellowtail and soft shelled crab, and then draped it so sensually over women’s privates.

“I wanted you to experience this, Catherine. As an artist and food photographer, you’d appreciate it, I knew. Plus, it’s undeniably sexy and that’s something we can both appreciate.” His eyes were a hot and hungry grey as he looked at me, the unmistakable color of arousal that I’d come to know so well. The heady sensuality of this private dinner was getting to him too. I gave him a knowing smile.

I took a few test photos to gauge the light, and then I began to shoot. I wanted to focus on the curves and angles—the way a long, lean thigh was accented by Junzo’s culinary mastery; the way a feminine back dipped into a valley before rising to a plump buttocks, four perfect sushi rolls nestled neatly in that arc. For some time I was completely absorbed. It may have been minutes or even a quarter of an hour. Then I became aware of William watching me, studying me like I was studying the models and the food. His eyes were dark and stormy, his lips slightly parted.

He rose and stood by my side, his hand on my hip. He was warm in the cool room, and I welcomed his heat. “You can get closer,” he murmured. “No need to stand apart like an observer. You can touch.” His hand slid up my back. “And taste.”

I shivered at the promise in his tone. He lifted a pair of chopsticks from the table and, with perfect form, picked up a sushi roll from the small of the woman’s back. “I think this is crab with daikon radish.” I watched as he opened his mouth wide and slid the round roll inside, closing his lips and his eyes, obviously savoring the taste. He swallowed. “I’ve ruined your symmetry now,” he said, his mouth back at my ear. And he had, as he’d taken the roll from the center, which left a gap in what had been a perfect line. “But I want you to notice something else.”

I lifted my camera and angled it on the woman’s back.

“She hasn’t moved, but she can’t control every response. Do you see how her skin pebbles where the cold roll has been removed?” His hand caressed my arm, encouraging me to move closer. “Warmth floods her skin and makes the chill of the other rolls that much more noticeable.”

I shivered from the caress of his breath on my neck. I snapped several shots, pausing when I felt his hand, light and teasing, on the small of my back—on the same spot where he had removed the sushi roll on the model.

“I don’t enjoy eating alone,” he said, approaching the table again. I watched, almost breathless, to see which of the delectable choices he would pick for me. His hand hovered over the thigh of the model who lay on her back and then he moved up and up to her taut abdomen, adorned with perfectly round rolls of bright orange surrounding a bed of white flecked with green. He didn’t touch her and his hand wasn’t even close to her skin, but through the lens of my camera, I saw the way she tensed almost imperceptibly. My own body tensed as well. I knew what it would feel like if William touched me there. I could imagine it, and I felt heat flooding between my legs in anticipation.

Finally, he lifted a roll from her belly, and I snapped a shot that captured the subtle surge of pink that flooded her skin as the roll was removed.

“It’s a salmon roll, with
unagi
and
tamago
. Taste,” William said, his hand cupping the nape of my neck. I lowered my camera, opened my mouth, and allowed him to feed me. It all but fell apart in my mouth as the sweet flavors of the salmon and eel, balanced by the tang of the rice, exploded across my tongue.

When I opened my eyes, William was watching me. He arched a brow. “Delicious,” I said. “Much better than the California rolls I get at Whole Foods.”

He gave me a chastising look. “Sushi is much better if you don’t buy it from the grocery store.”

I smiled. “I bet they’d sell more if they displayed it this way.”

He laughed. “Undoubtedly, but then someone might get arrested.” He handed me my glass of wine, and we both drank. “Here, let’s try the sashimi next.”

Paper thin slices of fish had been arranged into a delicate rose that covered one breast on the model lying face up. Using chopsticks this time, William lifted one petal, revealing a sliver of skin beneath. He dipped the tuna in a wasabi sauce and brought it to my mouth. I opened for him, tasting the smooth, silky flavor of the tuna along with the heat of the wasabi. The tuna was slightly warm from the model’s body, but still cold enough that I could imagine how it must have felt against her delicate skin. I felt a drip of the wasabi on my lip, but before I could lick it away, William’s thumb brushed against it. He licked his thumb, taking the bead of sauce into his mouth. “My turn,” he said. He turned and lifted another petal of fish from the model’s breast, this time revealing her nipple.

I lifted my camera, intrigued by the image of the nipple within the rose. “Watch how her nipple hardens and tightens,” William whispered from behind me. His arms came around me, and his hands held me lightly at the waist. I felt the heat of his body and the hardness of his chest pressing against my back. “It reminds me of someone else I know, right before she’s going to come,” he whispered in my ear.

I felt my own nipples tighten and harden, pushing against the silk of my bra.

“I imagine it would be extremely sensitive to touch right now,” he continued, speaking so low only I could hear. “If I put my warm mouth on that cold, hard nipple, how do you think it would feel?”

“Incredible,” I murmured. I took shot after shot with my camera, but I really had no idea what I was shooting. I was dizzy with arousal.

“Are you still hungry?” he asked, his fingers on my waist spreading. He didn’t touch my breasts, but I knew his fingers were close, inches below my aching flesh. I wanted him to touch me, and I watched breathlessly as he moved away, lifted the wine glasses, and held mine to my lips. I was drunk, but not on the wine. I was drunk on him, on the way he teased me into desire, on the pleasure I knew he could give me if I would only surrender to it again. My eyes strayed to the women on the table. They seemed like a symbol of the surrender William wanted, but theirs was a cold, emotionless surrender; mine would be hot and explosive.

William set the glasses aside, lifted the chopsticks, and removed a piece of maki with a plump piece of tempura shrimp bursting from it. He dipped it gently in soy sauce before tilting my chin up and feeding it to me. The fish eggs popped in my mouth and the shrimp was crunchy and salty and delicious. His hand slid from my chin to the nape of my neck. “Still hungry?”

“Yes,” I murmured, my voice low and husky. “But not for sushi.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

His hand on my neck tightened, and he pulled me against him. My hard nipples met the wall of his muscled chest, and I let out a moan before his mouth claimed mine. It was hot and spicy from the wasabi. I wrapped my hands around his back, pressing into him, feeling him meld into me. “Let’s go,” I murmured, breaking the kiss. “I want to see you. I want to feel you under my fingers.”

I thought he would sweep me up and carry me to his bedroom. Instead, he lowered his mouth to my throat and teased my flesh with his tongue. “I’m still hungry, Catherine. And I think you are too.”

I couldn’t want him more than I did, and I fought a wave of longing when he pulled away. I needed his touch. I wanted his hands on me, stroking me, caressing me, sliding into my wet sex. I was so wet for him already.

He lifted his chopsticks again and they hovered over the curved ass of the model on her stomach. I could imagine his hands on my ass as he lifted my hips and guided his hard length into me. And then he shook his head and moved to the woman on her back. I realized I was holding my breath. Would he take a piece from her collarbone, her abdomen, her breast? The chopsticks moved lower, to the line of sushi that ended in her shaved pussy. “This is called ‘The Hot Geisha,’” he said. “Junzo makes it with spiced crab and salmon, and a hot caviar sauce. It’s very spicy.” He looked at it, then me, considering. “I don’t think I need these,” he said, setting his chopsticks aside. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his mouth to the roll closest to the juncture of her thighs. He paused, his eyes meeting mine, as his mouth hovered a fraction above her bare skin. Still she didn’t move. His tongue darted out and licked just a dab of the spicy sauce from the top of the roll.

Arousal slammed through me, and I had to stifle a moan. The model was not unaffected either. Her gaze remained on the ceiling, her face expressionless, but I saw the rise and fall of her rapid breaths, the way her nipples puckered, the way her hips tilted slightly upward.

William opened his mouth and closed his teeth on the roll, lifting it away from her skin without ever having touched her. He closed his eyes as he savored his bite, and when he opened them, they were impossibly dark.

“Catherine,” His voice was low and commanding and I felt the heat simmering between my legs. The promise of the pleasure I craved was right there. He motioned for me. I didn’t think—my feet just acted—and then I was beside him and his mouth was on mine, taking me with his demanding lips and his conquering tongue. I could feel his hardness as he ground his hips against mine slowly and pushed me back. I thought he might press me against a wall and take me there and then. God help me, I wouldn’t have protested. Instead, we pushed through the dining room door. I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling his straining erection right up against my heat as we tumbled out into the hallway. “Time for the next course,” William growled and carried me toward the master suite.

The next morning, William told me he had to fly to Atlanta for the weekend. After he’d carried me from the dining room to his bed last night, our dessert activities had gone on for several hours. I now stretched wantonly in his modern platform bed and felt delicious twinges and aches ripple through my body as I stared at the lake and part of Chicago’s skyline through the bedroom’s massive windows. There hadn’t been any handcuffs or honey, but William had put the sash from his bathrobe to good use after we’d spent a long time making waves in a bubble bath. I still felt exceptionally well pleasured.

He’d kept his eyes locked with mine as he gave me the details about his trip, like he was looking for some sign that I was going to give him a hard time. Or worse. It was a last minute thing, he explained, something about a company he was thinking about investing in and the owner’s availability, and he had to go. He wouldn’t see me again until Sunday.

“Okay,” I said. I’d miss him, but I understood. Then I gave him a long, tongue-filled kiss and dragged him into his massive multi-jet shower, where I pushed him against the wall, sank to my knees, and went down on him. I loved getting him off with my mouth and I thought it was the perfect send-off. He seemed to think so too.

Truth be told, I was relieved William would be away for a few days. We needed a break. I’d wanted to slow things down after Napa so I could get my head together, but he’d refused. Maybe he’d finally realized that giving us a little breather wasn’t such a bad thing. Or maybe Atlanta
was
just business and last minute weekend trips were par for the course for Mr. Business Tycoon. Who knew? What I was sure of was that things were moving at lightning speed between us and we’d only met about a second ago. The intensity was exhausting and my emotions were scattered all over the place. I needed to inhabit my boring regular life for a little while and feel like me again.

The sky was grey and the lake reflected its gloominess, but I didn’t mind. I spent all of Friday hanging out at home, catching up on mundane stuff like paying bills and cleaning my condo, which was actually pretty spotless thanks to Beckett. I hand-washed all of my lingerie and scattered colorful lacy bits and silky-sheer stockings around my bathroom and living room to dry. I did some work and read a few articles online about Hutch Morrison in preparation for our upcoming meeting. The guy got a ton of press, so there was more than enough information available to check out. Later, when most of the snow had melted, Laird and I went for a long walk by the lake.

I tried to call Beckett a few times but he didn’t answer or text or call me back. That wasn’t like him, but I figured now that he had a new man in his life, he was making the most of their time together on the weekends. I’d done the same thing with William, so I couldn’t hold it against him. Still, I wondered if maybe there wasn’t more to his silence. There was that thing he said he couldn’t tell me because of the NDA. What the hell was that all about? Beckett had never kept secrets from me before and it was weird.

I ordered Chinese take-out for dinner and ended up going to bed before nine o’clock. I slept for nearly fourteen hours straight.

By Saturday afternoon, I felt rested and ready to get out so I called my friend Allison McIntyre to see if it was a good day to take portraits of her kids. She’d taken care of Laird so many times that I’d offered my photography services to her as a thank you. Besides, we hadn’t seen each other for a couple of weeks, and it would be fun to catch up. Allison sounded excited about getting together, so I packed my gear, put Laird in my Volvo, and headed over to her house in Ravenswood Manor.

After I’d taken some cute shots of her son, Michael, and her daughter, Brooke, Allison and I hung out in her cozy kitchen while the kids romped with the dog. We chatted about her job and the kids’ school stuff.

“So,” she said, handing me a cup of coffee and sitting across from me at the kitchen table. She had assorted roosters and other farm animals on the walls and decorating the counters. “Tom’s parents invited me to their anniversary party. It’s their fiftieth.”

From what she’d said in the grief support group where we’d met, I knew Allison had had a much better relationship with her in-laws than I’d had with mine. They’d been supportive all through her late husband’s battle with cancer. Even so, I also knew Allison’s mother-in-law occasionally drove her nuts. “Really? Are you going to go?”

She shrugged. “I feel like I should. I know they want Michael and Brooke to be there. But I haven’t seen the whole family since Tom’s funeral. It will be a little weird.”

I reached across the table and took her hand. “Come on, you can handle it, and they’re family to Michael and Brooke. Grandma and Grandpa, aunts, uncles, cousins. It’ll be great.”

“We’ve lost so much. I don’t want to take anything else away from the kids. But it’s so different without Tom, you know? They’re
his
family. It’s always so awkward.” She sighed. “But enough depressing stuff about me.” She sipped her coffee. “What’s up with you? Are you still seeing that new guy?”

“William, yes.” I’d never mentioned his last name. I didn’t think Allison would know who he was, but I didn’t want to get into his billionaire status and all the complications that went along with it, like last weekend’s Napa excursion.

“And…?” she prodded. “How are things going?”

“Really good. He’s a fabulous cook. He’s charming, smart, and has excellent taste in art. We can talk about it for hours. He’s great.”

“While the kids are still in the other room, tell me the good stuff. How’s the…you know? Still fabulous?”

I felt the blush creeping into my cheeks as I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”

“Hurry!” she whispered. “Details!”

“It’s off the charts, Dana. He’s really good in bed. I’m not even in his league.”

“Look at you glowing,” she said with a smile. “Has he told you he loves you yet? Have you told him?”

“No, but it’s that obvious, huh?” I sipped my coffee to hide my face, which now felt hot and red.

“I just haven’t ever seen you look so happy.”

The kids and Laird picked that moment to tear into the kitchen and beg to give Laird a treat. Allison had some doggy snacks in the pantry, and I said it was okay. I was glad for the interruption. I didn’t want to talk about why I hadn’t told William I loved him yet. Or why he hadn’t told me. Our sex life was amazing, but the rest of our relationship felt so uncertain.

A burst of laughter brought me back to the present, and I watched as the kids placed a doggie treat on Laird’s nose. They’d obviously taught him to wait because he didn’t snatch it up. Instead, he whined and thumped his tail impatiently. “Get it, Laird!” Michael, Allison’s seven-year-old, said. Laird flicked his nose, and the treat soared into the air. He caught it with a
woof.
Four-year-old Brooke broke into peals of laughter, and the sound of her unadulterated joy made me laugh.

Allison was so fortunate to have these two reminders of what she and Tom had shared. I watched her hug them and saw the way the whole family seemed to love one another so completely. They’d seen hard times, and they’d gotten through them. It was them against the world, and that was what I wanted with William. I just didn’t know if we’d ever make it that far.

***

When William got back on Sunday afternoon, I was dressed in a white blouse under a pretty white sweater with a ruffled neckline and cuffs and a black wool boucle mini with tights and black suede booties. My hair was back in a high ponytail and I was wearing a little dark eyeliner and mascara and a touch of red lip gloss. I kept my jewelry simple and had on just my diamond stud earrings and my Patek Philippe. I hoped I looked chic but not like I was trying too hard to impress his aunt and uncle.

I buzzed William up and when I opened my door, he was just topping the stairs. He was in dark tweed trousers, a button-down shirt, and a grey-blue sweater that matched his eyes and made them look even more gorgeous than usual. He looked good enough to eat, and I almost wished we were staying home.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I melted into his embrace and let the essence of him overtake all of my senses. He was such a big and powerful man and it felt so good to be nestled against his muscled, hard chest as his lips pressed against mine. With my heart racing, I kissed him back, our tongues dancing and dueling as my body roared to life. He pulled away first, leaving me breathless and a little dizzy and glad his strong arms were holding me up.

He reached his hand to gently caress my jaw before he tipped my head back so I was looking up at him. “I missed you and I couldn’t get back here fast enough. Georgia was a bust.” His eyes were a radiant grey and I shivered, knowing we were both reeling in the powerful chemistry between us. “You look beautiful, by the way. I love you in white. It makes your skin glow and your eyes look even greener. Very pretty, my beautiful girl.”  

I blushed as he smiled down at me. There was that word again,
love
, but I’d take it any way he offered it. “Thank you,” I replied. “I wasn’t sure how dressy dinner was going to be, but I’m glad you like it. And I missed you too.” I had and I wanted him to know. I leaned up and lightly pressed my lips to his. He groaned in response and we stood in my doorway for a few more minutes, softly kissing and gently becoming reacquainted with each other. I felt beautiful, desired, and cherished and I tried to make him feel the same way.

William was the first to pull away again and he looked at his watch then back at me with a mock chastising expression on his face. “Catherine, we need to leave or we’re going to be late. Come on, grab your coat
and your gloves
and let’s go. I’m double-parked out front. I totally forgot. That’s what your bewitching lips do to me.” He was grinning now and I watched as he subtly adjusted himself, obviously coping with the effects of our yummy make-out session.

“Me and my bewitching lips are ready. Give me just a sec,” I laughed. I grabbed my stuff and we were off.

I was really excited to see where William had lived for the latter part of his childhood and to get to know his family better. He drove us himself in the black Range Rover and, even in the middle of winter, it was a lovely trip up Sheridan Road. The frozen lake was a dark expanse off to the right and the houses got grander and grander as we went north. William pointed out different places of interest, but mostly he held my hand and we enjoyed companionable silence.

It wasn’t quite five and already dusk when we arrived at the Smith residence in Lake Forest. We turned into a gated drive that was walled on either side. William rolled down his window and punched a code into a keypad, and then the gate slowly rolled open. I looked out and spotted a security camera high in a tree next to the drive. Given all that William had been through, I guessed the Smiths had to take precautions.

William continued along the private road through the heavily wooded grounds until we reached a stone drive that led us to the front of a very large red-brick Georgian house surrounded by an expansive snow-covered lawn. I could see the lake off in the distance. His aunt and uncle were on the front steps to meet us, one black lab and two goldens trailing behind them.

“Catherine!” William’s aunt said, embracing me warmly when I stepped out of the car. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Smith.”

“Call me Abigail, please. And you remember Charles?” She led me to William’s uncle who had been shaking William’s hand and slapping him on the shoulder.

Charles shook my hand. “Good to see you again, Catherine. This is Atlas,” he said with his hand rubbing the ears of the black lab. “And that’s Blanche and Ophelia. They’re a hopeless lot of lunatics, but we adore them.” I stroked one of the golden retrievers on the head and she wagged her big tail in response. “Please come in and get warmed up and have a cocktail. Annabelle will have dinner ready shortly.”

“Annabelle’s the cook and housekeeper,” William said, following me into the house after Abigail and Charles and the dogs. “She’s been with them for years. I can’t remember a time without her.”

We stepped into a large, elegantly decorated foyer and an older African-American woman came quickly down the hall and hugged William hard. “You don’t come home enough, Willie,” she scolded him.

“Annabelle, it’s good to see you too.”

She pulled away and studied me. She wore a grey dress with a white apron. “You must be Catherine,” she said with a nod. “About time William brought a girl home to meet us. About time.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Annabelle.” I held out my hand, but to my surprise, she engulfed me in a hug. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and freshly baked dough.

“I better get back to dinner before I burn it,” she said, hurrying back to the kitchen.

“She’s never burned a meal in her life,” Abigail said, and I realized everyone had been watching Annabelle’s reaction to me. I hoped I’d passed the test.

We had cocktails in the immense living room which felt intimate despite its size thanks to the careful groupings of furniture. The Smiths were clearly serious appreciators of very expensive antiques. Their taste in art rivaled William’s too, and I wondered if Abigail and Charles had been early influencers on his collecting.

I was a little nervous about saying and doing the right things, but the Smiths were charming, easy going, and relaxed. They were interested in my work and how I’d grown up in California, but they didn’t pry into my past or barrage me with questions. William sat next to me on the couch with his arm resting behind me along its back. Every so often he’d touch my hair or knead my shoulder, but for the most part he just smiled and observed as the three of us talked. The half hour seemed like no more than minutes, and then Annabelle called us into dinner.

After a delicious meal of rib-eye steak, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, and buttery dinner rolls, Abigail offered to give me a tour of the house before dessert and coffee. I looked over at William who subtly nodded and I eagerly accepted her offer, not just to see the house but to spend a little time alone with her too.