Cake (4 page)

He frowned. “You should tell me, of course. Good news should be shared. It’ll still be my night, so to speak. I promise. Consider it a present to me.”

They crossed at the light and moved down the block. The mist raised in shiny beads on his jacket. The night was cold, but crisp and clean and she was utterly happy right in that moment.

“If it’s a present, then I’ll truly hold off and tell you tomorrow.”

“You would truly withhold your good news from me? You are not fair, Wren.”

She laughed and he put an arm around her shoulder, which sent those butterflies in her belly into surprised flight. “So tell me.”

Well he did ask and she was truly excited to share it with him. “This afternoon—”

“Hi, Gregori.”

Standing at the door of Fixe was none other than Prentiss Ivanov wearing a skirt so short that if she took a deep breath the entire street would know her as well as her gynecologist.

“What are you doing here?” His voice had gone flat, all the rich, flirty tones he’d just been using on Wren had gone.

Wren tried to skirt past them. Go inside, anywhere away from this scene, but Gregori kept an arm around her shoulders to hold her in place.

“I wanted to congratulate you, of course.”

He moved past Prentiss. “Thank you.” And tried to keep walking until Prentiss placed herself in their path.

“Can you excuse us, honey?” Prentiss fluttered her lashes at Wren.

“No, she can’t. We’re going inside. Good night.”

“This is what you’re digging up now? Come on, Gregori.” She turned her attention to Wren. “You know you’re temporary, right? He’ll replace you in a week or two.”

Wren just looked her over and a twinge of pity bloomed. Just a small one and not big enough for her to resist when Gregori kept her at his side.

“Move aside, Prentiss. We’re done. You know it. You wanted it, you got it and you were right.”

“At least let’s have a drink to celebrate your night.”

“I’m about to do that.” He continued on inside, pausing at the inner door to speak to the doorman. “Be sure no one gets in if they’re not on the list.”

Wren blew out a breath but continued on with him to where a bunch of people she had seen around Gregori’s place milled around. And felt out of place and a little nervous.

“Let’s put our coats away.” He pulled her aside and around a corner. When they were alone in a back hallway he got very close. So close she could smell his skin. “I apologize for her. Her assumption was incorrect and vulgar.”

Wren licked her lips. “I’m sorry, too. This should be a happy night for you. I’m sorry she tries to hurt you.” She cupped his cheek, smiling and trying to pretend she just had friendly feelings for him. “You deserve more.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her palm. “You’ve got a good heart.”

“I’m only after your cookies.”

He smiled, his eyes still closed. “You, little bird, are welcome to any and all of my cookies. I’d even share my cake with you.”

He touched his forehead to hers and shocked her into stillness when he slid his arms around her waist, his palms splayed on her back. Skin to skin. Warmth radiated out from where he held her and she arched into him.

His eyes opened slowly, a little blurred and she lost her breath as he dipped down to take her mouth in a kiss.

Not a sweet touch like he’d done at the gallery. He brushed his lips over hers, settling in. Tasting. She opened up on a sigh and he growled in his throat as his tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip.

His beard scratched against her chin, sending shivers through her. He swallowed her sounds of delight and tickled her tongue with his. His grip on her tightened when she sucked his tongue, the ridge of his cock hard against her belly.

He tasted like…well like everything she’d imagined he’d taste like. The spice of the Turkish tobacco in the French cigarettes he smoked. A little bit of vodka. Some cinnamon, probably from the gum he’d been chewing. And something else she couldn’t define but was all his anyway.

Heat raced through her veins. She nipped his bottom lip and he groaned again. She laved the sting with her tongue and tasted the kiss, the need between them and it was her turn to groan.

He muttered something in Russian at the sound of his name being called back in the main room.

“Clearly I’m going to have to get a Russian/English dictionary.”

He opened his eyes again, kissing her one last time. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“Whyever not? Did I repulse you?”

He laughed. “No. I’ve wanted to do that for some time now.” He helped her out of her blazer and handed the coats over to the coat check and turned back her way.

“So? Are you with someone? Is it that?”

“I’m not with anyone. It’s not what I do. You work for me. It’s best not to cross those lines.”

“I’m not your employee. I deliver packages for a company your assistant uses. And I’m not even doing that forever, as you well know. Anyway, you crossed the line. You can’t go back now.”

She sent him a raised brow as they headed back out to the table where his friends waited.

He watched her, her taste still on his tongue. His body aching for more. Like a fool. He never should have given in.

He still felt the phantom of her skin against his palms, the curves of her body against his. Sweet. Yielding and yet full of fire and independence. But not part of his world. Which was a good thing. His world would ruin her.

“Why do you look like you just sucked on a lemon?” Kelsey handed him a plate she’d filled with actual food instead of that fluff they’d had at the gallery. “Eat.”

“I do not.”

She rolled her eyes. “I saw Prentiss outside. Is that it? I told her I was going to call the cops if she didn’t stop loitering. Her expression was enough to get me through at least five more grumpy moods. I question your taste sometimes, Gregori.”

Then she followed his gaze to Wren and sniffed. “Ah. Please tell me she’s not why you have that look.”

“You’re nosy.”

“It’s a gift, my Russian friend. So?”

“I’m fine. Here with my friends. Drinking and now I’m about to eat. Go away and pester someone else. How about Dray? He keeps staring at you and pretending he’s not. Go bother him.”

Kelsey sighed. “Fine.”

His attention shifted back to Wren. She spoke, that mouth of hers curving up into a smile. He’d had his lips on that mouth just an hour before and he itched to do it again. Even as he forced himself to stay seated and merely watch her, he craved her.

Wanted her.

He’d known her for the better part of a year. At first she’d been all business when she’d dropped his stuff off. But over time, he’d drawn her out. Had learned she was in art school. That she had a dry sense of humor. That she didn’t take the Gregori Ivanov mask he wore seriously. At all.

She respected his work. It wasn’t just that she told him so. Lots of people told him so. He knew he had talent and he was proud of what he’d made of himself. But it was the way she looked at what he did. The way she understood it. They were alike in that way. That got to him.

He was constantly surrounded by people, but quite often was alone. She didn’t add to that. She pushed that aside and got into his head. She ate his cookies and drank his tea and asked him questions that let him know she
listened
to him and cared about him as a friend.

That was rare.

He looked around the room at the people gathered. Some were his friends. People who’d been around through the good times and the bad. People who’d have his back no matter how much money was in his bank account. But certainly there were others here, hangers-on. The women he’d fucked when he got the urge but he’d never expect more. Women who never spent the night. Women he took to fancy hotels. He sent them jewelry after and it had remained pleasant and civil and he knew he could have it again anytime he asked.

Men who’d have jumped at the offer he’d made to Wren to hook them up with agents or industry people.

He frowned, remembering he hadn’t gotten to hear her news because of Prentiss. He sighed. His ex-wife, who’d never been vibrant like Wren. A woman who had been starstruck by him and he’d gotten off on it. And then they’d ruled over their world for a while and he’d gotten off on that, too. But he didn’t want it as a lifestyle. Not every day, and she had. She’d loved the money and the trappings. Loved the way they’d gotten great tables at all the best restaurants. She’d pushed him to live in New York, hating Seattle. So he’d bought a condo, one she lived in because he’d simply walked away after the divorce.

Ha, the divorce. He’d turned a blind eye to the other men and women. He’d enjoyed some of the women she’d been with, too. At the time it had seemed exciting, and it was, the first few times. But he needed quiet to work. He needed to relax and not have to be Gregori the artist every waking moment. It exhausted him, the mask he had to wear. But Prentiss hadn’t wanted it to be a mask. She wanted to live it full-time.

They fought. All the time. He understood at that point that it had been part of the allure of that life for her. She liked the high drama and the makeup sex. But after a while it was just fucking with bite marks. But he didn’t want to quit. As wild as the world thought him to be, he’d taken an oath, he’d committed to her and he was loath to walk away. So when she’d filed the papers he’d been shocked. Fought her, tried to get her into counseling. But she’d been adamant. He’d given her money and the condo and come back to Seattle.

They’d come back together a few times post-divorce and Wren had been right about who he’d been around her. He’d drunk too much, smoked too many cigarettes, done too much ecstasy. Not slept enough. Not worked enough. And then they’d fight and she’d leave and that would be that until she cruised back into town.

But he’d put his foot down finally and realized at long last that she was not good for him. He wasn’t good for her. It was time to really be done with her. That scene outside had filled him with shame because Wren didn’t deserve that sort of thing. And it had highlighted the world of difference between the two women and what role they’d filled in his life.

Wren didn’t want him for tickets to things, for introductions to industry people or to get into the best parties. She was his friend. Wren was something special and he’d be a fucking fool to mess that up. No matter how gorgeous she looked when she glossed up her lips and shined her hair like a glamorous starlet from the 1940s.

She was a gloriously normal part of his life. A reminder of why he created to start with. If he fucked her it might ruin things. He needed to keep thinking with his brain and not his dick. Because he didn’t want to mess up and end up without her in his life anymore.

“So what’s the story?” Zoe cornered Wren near the bar.

“What story?”

Zoe just cocked her head and waited.

“He kissed me. Like really kissed me. I’m still tingly from it.”

Zoe’s eyes lit. “Finally! So why is he over there and you’re over here?”

Good question. “He made a comment that he’d been wanting to kiss me a long time but how it was a mistake because I’m an employee. I called bullshit and gave him some space. But I’m not done. Hello.”

Her friend laughed. “So you’re all in?”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. But I’m not falling for some line about how that kiss was a mistake because I’m an employee. First of all, I’m not. Second? He liked that kiss and I did, too, and I’ve been waiting for him to finally make a move and it was good. We have major energy, Zo. So I’m all in as far as not letting him retreat for some silly reason. I want to see what else we can be. I don’t want him to marry me or anything. But I like him. And I know he likes me.”

“Go you. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“I’m not going to force myself on him or anything. But he has these self-imposed walls he retreats behind. But I have a key. If he doesn’t want anything between us, fine, but he has to be a big boy and own it for that, not some other silly stuff.”

Her moms had a nickname for her. The bulldog. Most of the time she was laid-back. Patient and calm. But when she really wanted something she went for it. And she didn’t stop until she had it. She turned and caught Gregori looking at her ass. She quirked up a smile and he gave her one back.

She wanted Gregori. So he could try to retreat, but she knew where he lived.

Wren could have taken any number of jobs to pay her bills. But being on her bike, zipping up and down the hills of downtown Seattle, weaving through traffic, it was nearly Zen. She spent her time thinking about her work instead of her job. It was plenty of time to simply blank out and imagine, plot, create. She had a mini recorder she used and a notepad, as well.

It kept her body busy and the schedule was flexible enough to fit around her school and artwork so she really had few complaints. She wouldn’t do it forever, but it kept her in milk and bread and it enabled her to see Gregori Ivanov a few times every week.

She gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror in the lobby after he buzzed her up. It had been over a week since she’d seen him and since that damned kiss. She wasn’t shiny and dressed up like she’d been then, but she wasn’t too much of a sweaty mess either.

He opened up as she approached his door. The spit in her mouth dried up because
he
was sweaty. Shirtless. His hair a mess. He’d been hip deep in work, she knew given his appearance.

“There you are.” He said this like he’d been expecting her and she’d been keeping him waiting. It made her smile.

He stood aside and she went in. Music played loud in his studio space. The sculpture was gone and instead a canvas dominated the room.

“I envy the way you so effortlessly move between different types of mediums.” She thrust the envelopes and small boxes she’d carried up into his arms.

“I’m stalled.”

He stalked into the main living area and she followed. “Stalled?”

“I know what I want. I’m not executing it.”

“Do you mind?” She indicated his studio and he gave an offhand wave of permission as he tore open one of the envelopes.

Several sketches were tacked up and below them, half-done canvases. Each of them was marvelous but she knew he was a perfectionist. And she understood it. If it didn’t feel right it was hell getting it out.

“The light. I need the right light maybe. I don’t know.” He came in, standing behind her. “I try working at different points of the day but it’s just not…” He made a movement with his hands, lost for the right words.

“I’d tell you these are beautiful, but that’s not going to help.”

He paused, his gaze sharpening on her. He blew out a breath then licked his lips. “News. You had news. Tell me.”

“Do you have cookies?”

He rolled his eyes but turned, leaving the room and heading to his kitchen.

“I don’t have macarons, I’m sorry to say. But I have some cake.”

“Cake? I don’t have cake. Why do you have cake?” Though he nearly always had something sweet in his pantry.

He turned. “I love cake.” He shrugged.

She laughed. “I knew you liked it, but I had no idea you loved it.”

“I love cake like I love painting.”

“Like you love women?”

He quirked a sexy smile that made her shiver. “I love women like I love cake. It’s a better way to say. It’s chocolate with almonds.”

“Oh. Yes, please.”

“News.”

He pulled a pink bakery box from the cabinet.

“I’ve been working on a proposal for my graphic novel,
Jude the Assassin
.” Working on. Ha! More like pouring every spare moment of her life into it. She’d had Zoe and Kelsey give it a final read the night before and had received happy thumbs-ups from them. “I…one of my classmates, her dad is an agent—he saw my website and asked me to send him something. I mailed it this morning.”

He turned and moved close, pulling her into a hug and she couldn’t help it, she breathed him in. Clean man work sweat and all. Damn.

“This is amazing news.” He set her away from him a little and she had to clench her jaw to keep from licking him.

“I have…I have copies of what I sent if you’d like to see.” She blushed, she knew it. She’d agonized over every line, every drawing, every word. But she was proud of the final product.

“I always want to see your work. Do I not beg you all the time to share it with me? Sit. You don’t need tea, you need champagne.”

Of course he had many bottles of it in his fridge.

“I can’t believe you have like five bottles of champagne in your fridge at all times.” She rolled her eyes as she pulled out the notebook where she’d kept copies of what she’d sent out.

“I love champagne nearly as much as I love cake.”

She did know that.

“Fortunately champagne and cake go together rather well.” He popped the cork and filled two glasses, moving to sit across from her at the table.

She took one of the glasses and he clinked his against hers. “To success, pretty bird.”

She drank rather than responding because she had no idea what to say to that. He pushed a huge slice of cake her way and snatched the notebook from her lap, reading slowly as he drank and she nervously wolfed down eleven billion calories’ worth of chocolate and butter.

He’d missed her. At first he’d been relieved when she hadn’t come to bring him things for the first days after that kiss. Kelsey came, thrust things his way, ordered him to sign them and had left. Which was fine. That was how they worked. She knew how to take him in hand and get him to pay attention to important things.

But she wasn’t Wren. So he’d dived into this painting and had just missed what he wanted. Over and over. All while he pined for her like an idiot.

And now she sat across from him eating his cake, drinking champagne and blushing.

He felt better than he had in a week.

And that was before he’d started looking through her notebook. What he’d seen from her in the past had been good. This? It was clear she’d spent all her waking hours perfecting and polishing. He wasn’t a great fan of graphic novels in general, but he did have a love of certain ones. He liked a good story. Liked some quirky stuff. Liked darkness but not for the sake of itself.

Jude the Assassin
. He smiled. “This is remarkable. If this agent does not represent you, he is an idiot and you will take the offer of the connections I made before.”

She snorted and drank her champagne. “I’m going to do my best at putting this in the back of my mind for a while. I know this all takes time. I have final projects to finish up anyway.”

“Maybe you can finally accept the fact that you don’t need art school. You are far too talented to be wasting your time.”

She gave him a look and while he knew she was pissed, it made him a little hard, too.

“This again?”

“You have so much talent. You don’t need school.”

“No.
You
don’t need school. I’ve learned a lot. It’s been good for me on many levels.”

He sniffed and she rolled her eyes. “You’re such a snob. Oh, you lie around and arch your brow and pretend to be so artsy and hip, but you’re a total snob.” She gave him a sniff right back.

“I am not a snob.”

“You totally are.” She forked up the last bit of her cake and ate it, smiling at him the entire time.

“Prove it.”

She waved a hand at him. With an arched brow, she cocked her head. “Wren, you do not need art school. Real artists live and die by the work they are talented enough to create. What does school teach you, eh? A teacher cannot give you passion and fire. You have it or you don’t.”

She imitated him so well he had to fight to keep from laughing. “I do not sound like Mr. Chekov.”

“From the
Star Trek
?” Again in his accent. He gave in and laughed.

“I do not say
the
Star Trek.”

“Missing the point there, Mr. Man.”

“You are talented. You didn’t learn that in a classroom. You have it all inside you.”

She scooted her chair closer and took her notebook, flipping through it. “Here. You see how I’ve shaded this part?”

He nodded.

“I learned that in an animation class. It’s a technique. I can’t learn passion, but I can learn technique. I learned how to storyboard in a class. I have
absolutely
benefited from school. I even met this agent through a connection at school. Most of us are not geniuses. We don’t all fall out of our mothers with a paintbrush between our teeth.”

“That sounds painful.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as she did. “You take for granted how special you are. You’re lightning in a bottle, Gregori. The rest of us have to work a lot harder than that.”

He leaned closer, even as he knew he shouldn’t. “I believe art is in here.” He tapped her chest, above her heart. “Not here.” He tapped her forehead.

“But some artistic endeavors are both. This is a business. What I do involves multiple mediums that are evolving all the time.” She paused, so very close to him. Her eyes glittered with their passionate discussion, her chin jutted out a little. Defiant.

God, he wanted her.

And then he smelled her skin.

“What perfume do you wear?”

“My sister-in-law makes bath and body stuff. Soap, lotion, all that. She created a custom essential-oil blend for me. Several actually. This one is rose with a tiny bit of amber.” She laid her head to one side, exposing the line of her throat to him.

Unable to resist, he leaned in and breathed her in. “I like it. It’s unique.”

She turned her head but he didn’t move back.

“You may have a point about art school.”

He blinked, trying to clear his head. “What?”

“You were going to say that. Right before you kissed me.”

“You may have a point about art school. But I’m not going to kiss you.”

Her nose scrunched up in a rather appealing way. “Why?”

“Why?” he repeated, confused by the entire conversation.

“Yes. Why aren’t you going to kiss me? You’re staring at my mouth. You’re sniffing me. I heard that whisper of a groan when you did, don’t think I didn’t. You want to kiss me, Gregori.”

“I want a lot of things.”

She laughed, leaning a little closer and still he didn’t move away. “You do. And you take them all. You have a need for instant gratification, Gregori. Cake. Champagne. The signs are all there.”

Struck frozen by the sight of her there so very close, the rising scent of her skin as she heated up, he licked his lips. “I told you why the other night. It was a good kiss, I can’t deny that. But we are friends. It should stay that way. I don’t want to mess that up.”

One of her brows slid up slowly.

And then she licked her lips. Only not nervously like he had. Sensuously. Knowingly. This side of her was scorching hot.

“You’re going to kill me.”

“Then you should go out doing what you want to do.”

“Should I? Well, that might…injure you.”

Her laugh was different than her usual. Low, throaty. A full-on seductive sound and it stroked over his skin like a touch. “That sounds like something I’d enjoy.”

He closed his eyes.

She knew he was wavering. Knew his control was thinning. This called for some action or they’d never kiss or have sex or any of that fun stuff.

“A year, Gregori.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “A year you’ve flirted with me.” Another kiss at the hollow where shoulder met body. “You’ve looked at my boobs when you thought I didn’t notice.” His pulse thundered against her lips when she kissed his throat. “And then you laid a kiss on me. In the dark, pressing me against a wall in a nightclub.”

She climbed into his lap and he drew a shaky breath.

“I felt just how much you wanted me then.” She rolled her hips, grinding herself against his cock. “I feel it now. Question is, Gregori, do you enjoy me as much as you enjoy cake? And how can you know unless you take a taste?”

She brushed her lips over his mouth and his eyes snapped open. “Indeed.”

His muscles, which had been tense, loosened and then he pounced. He wrapped his arms around her, hauled her closer and kissed her.

Kissed
was a word she supposed. But it was more like he devastated. He took. He tasted and sipped and teased. He devoured her until she was breathless and her breath shaky.

All from kisses.

“More,” she whispered against his mouth.

“You sure?” He picked her up and deposited her on the edge of his large table.

She reached out and grabbed his cock, squeezing lightly to answer his question.

He growled and stepped forward, standing between her legs. Busy hands undid her hair, his fingers tunneling through it, freeing it. He tightened his grip, pulling her back, kissing her throat. Licking. Nipping until she might have made a sound surprisingly similar to a wordless beg.

“Yes. Again. I want that sound again.” He pulled her sweater up and off, leaving her in a camisole and her bra. “So pretty.” He kissed across her shoulder, the tickle of his beard bringing a hitch to her breath.

She grabbed his waist, working his pants open. He swore when she took him in her hand, fisting, sliding up and a down a few times.

He muttered in Russian, drawing aside the straps from her camisole and bra, kissing the bare skin he left behind.

More muttering in Russian. Hearing it made her so hot.

“What? What are you saying? You’re giving me a complex.”

He snorted, tipping his head to look into her face. “I can’t get at all of you adequately here.”

He then simply bent his knees, got a better grip on her ass and picked her up. Laughing, she wrapped her legs around him and held on as he marched through the loft and into his bedroom.

She’d never been in there. It was surprisingly serene. Not that she thought about it long because three seconds later, one-handed, he divested her of her cami and bra and she hugged him, skin to skin.

His nipple rings were cool against her breasts. His muscles bunched and relaxed as he moved. He was so hot she didn’t even have the time to panic about how heavy she was.

He went down to the mattress with her, rolling so that he was on top. She managed to kick her shoes off as he went back to her mouth, kissing her again with a zeal and heat that scorched.

More. God, she wanted so much more she was nearly mindless with it.

“Pants off. My god, man! You’re killing me.” She shoved at his chest with one hand as she tried to get his jeans down.