Degrees of Passion Page 5

  Sasha opened her eyes to see Trevor strolling towards her, his tie loosened and a suggestive grin curling along the corner of his mouth. ‘We have the house to ourselves for the evening. I sent the staff away.’

  ‘Hm,’ Sasha answered, pulling the shawl off her arms. ‘Timothy will be back.’

  ‘Not for hours. Hey, what’s the matter? You’re not upset about my mother, are you?’ Trevor gave a dismissing laugh. ‘Ignore her. I do.’

  Sasha had to forcibly make herself keep quiet. There were several things she wanted to say about Mrs Kingston, none of which would be for her son’s ears.

  ‘Ah, come on.’ Trevor towered over her, running his hand over her hip. ‘Don’t let her ruin our night. In fact, let’s forget all about her. I want to talk about us.’

  Sasha felt her heart leap in her chest, thumping hard. Her stomach knotted in anticipation. A shaky breath escaped her lips. She couldn’t speak. The way he said those words, I want to talk about us, had to mean something special.

  When he merely rubbed her hip through the thin material of the evening gown, she finally managed a weak ‘Oh?’

  ‘Mm.’ He nodded. ‘I was thinking . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ Her heart pounded and she worried it might explode through her chest.

  ‘We could move out to the grand terrace. There’s this little alcove that blocks the wind.’ His hand worked on her gown, slowly inching it up as he spoke. ‘I could shelter you against the side of the building, keep you warm with the heat of my body as you get down on your knees to—’

  ‘Oh.’ The word lacked enthusiasm. She couldn’t help it. Acute disappointment filled her where hope once sprang.

  ‘OK, fine.’ Trevor chuckled. He didn’t stop the progress of his hand, unfazed by any hint of rejection to his sexual ideas. Lack of confidence wasn’t one of his flaws. Her skirt brushed along her thigh as he worked it higher. ‘No terrace. You’re right. It’s probably too cold this time of year. But it is February. In a few short months it will be warm enough.’

  His mouth closed in on hers, lips sweeping across so gently she couldn’t help but open herself to him. The taste of mint and chocolate flavored his tongue. She buried the disappointment she felt at the false hope, telling herself it had been ridiculous to think his words had a deeper meaning to them. Instead, she concentrated on his intensifying kiss.

  She pulled away to gasp for breath, dragging air into her burning lungs. He kissed along her face, moving to bite at her ear. ‘Right here will work, too.’

  Trevor hooked her panties with his finger, jerking them down, but not pulling them completely off. Sasha couldn’t contain herself. Lights danced over her head, shining like perfectly cut stars in the giant chandelier. The richness of the surroundings, the feel of fine material against her flesh, the look of Trevor in his suit, all added to the grand fantasy. How could she resist him? Everything about him screamed seduction and Sasha definitely was seduced.

  She tugged at his jacket, gripping the front to hold him to her. He backed her up against the table. Hard wood hit her ass as the stiff press of his arousal trapped her hips. He finally freed her of her panties, ripping one side to get them completely off. They fell around one of her ankles, snagging on a heel. In a frenzy, Trevor reached for his waistband, undoing his pants without bothering to take them off. The dark material pooled around his ankles and his silk boxers soon followed.

  She reached behind her neck, pulling at the straps to the halter bodice. A strapless black corset bra pushed up her breasts. Warm hands instantly cupped each globe, massaging them until they slipped out of the top. Sasha hopped her butt up onto the table. Trevor stood between her thighs, reaching his hand to rub the delicate bud of flesh hidden there. She ran her hands through his thick hair.

  ‘You’re so warm.’ He bit her ear, harder this time. A finger slipped inside, wiggling. ‘Why don’t you let me go without? I like the feel of flesh. I can’t feel anything with the condom on.’

  She highly doubted that. In the past, he’d felt things just fine. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked, but Sasha prided herself on being careful – even if she did trust him. She wasn’t ready for the consequences of his request. ‘We’ve had that talk.’

  ‘I promise to pull out. Come on, baby, just let me feel it.’

  Sasha arched a brow and started to close her legs.

  ‘Fine.’ Trevor grumbled, but obeyed. He pulled away long enough to grab a condom out of his jacket pocket and slip it on.

  ‘Good man,’ she said, nodding in approval.

  Trevor brought himself to her. The thick glide of his cock parted her as he thrust. She kept her eyes open, liking the ambiance of the rich surroundings. He gripped the table top on either side of her and worked his hips like he worried about getting caught. She held on tight to his neck with one hand and anchored her weight on the table with the other. Her feet bounced in the air. Tension built inside her pussy bringing her close. Trevor jerked, stiffening with his release moments before she hit hers.

  Not yet! Sasha wanted to scream in frustration, as she rocked her hips. She managed to get a tiny tremor before he pulled out. Trevor grinned, a completely sated look.

  ‘I take it you like the dress,’ Sasha teased lightly.

  He nipped at her neck. ‘I love the dress.’ Then running the backs of his fingers down her arm, he stopped when he reached her tattoo. ‘But it will look better when we have this removed.’

  Sasha glanced down to her arm, to the Celtic design. He’d mentioned it before and she’d not really said anything. The design reminded her of a wild, crazy night, of a man she could never talk to again, of things she should want to forget. Something kept her from agreeing wholeheartedly to his words. A part of her, one she hated to admit was there, one she tried her damnedest to bury deep, actually liked the reminder that once she’d done something stupid and young and so very college student. Sometimes, when she was alone, she let herself fantasize about that night, about Kevin’s penetrating gaze and unreadable face.

  Trevor pulled her hand to get her to stand before pulling up his pants. ‘Let’s go to the bedroom. I had a new flat screen installed this week and I want to check it out.’

  ‘You’re so romantic,’ Sasha drawled, quickly dressing. She made sure to pick up her torn underwear and smooth down the tablecloth to hide their deeds.

  Trevor laughed, grabbing her hand. ‘Come on, sweetheart. I’ll let you hold the remote.’

  Tender hands glided along Sasha’s skin, glancing across her cooling spine. With each pass, they became stronger, massaging her flesh. She wanted them to continue, to move down over her ass, up into her hair. The hands were strong, but they didn’t move like Trevor’s, they seemed more inquisitive, exploring, memorizing. Her hips flexed, hitting the mattress softly. Desire stirred within her, tingling in her chest, heating her sex.

  Sasha sighed, fighting the urge to open her eyes and look at her clock. She’d had this sensation before. It haunted her like some bittersweet secret she couldn’t shake free from. Kevin always came to her in her dreams. The few times she’d seen him around campus since ‘that night’, she’d made a point of hurrying the other way. He never made a move to follow her. But at night, when his image came, she couldn’t run and he always made a move.

  She clung to the dream, knowing the second she let it slip she would feel guilty for what she’d done, even if she and Trevor had been technically broken up. How could she know Trevor would call her and beg her to meet him? Or that he’d want her to take him back the following morning at breakfast?

  Trevor claimed he wanted to forget the 48 or so hours they were apart and never speak of it again. Sasha had readily agreed, thinking it the perfect solution at the time. Unfortunately, her easy out had turned into months of self-reproach and second guessing. The problem with omissions is that they still felt like lies. The longer a person kept them, the greater the fear of their discovery became.

  Sasha opened her eyes, realizing she was awake. The te
asing caresses of her dreams were replaced by the stiff scratch of cheap sheets. Across the room, huddled under a thick stack of covers, her new roommate slept. Lulu Fritz had moved into Sasha’s two-bedroom suite that semester. Jo Garson and Carrie Hunter shared the other bedroom.

  Lulu was a sophomore taking undergrad classes. Sasha didn’t have much in common with her, but the housing department gave her a break on expenses for taking in the underclassman roommate. It had only been a few weeks, as the spring semester was new, but so far Sasha knew Lulu had an affinity for freestyle jazz, the color orange, creative writing, instant coffee and the freezing temperatures of her northern North Dakota home. Lulu turned down the heat every evening. Late February brought with it a bitter New York winter and Sasha awoke feeling like she lived in the Arctic. She shot the sleeping Lulu a dirty look, as she grabbed for her plush robe on the floor next to her bed.

  Slipping the robe over her arms, Sasha turned her alarm clock off before it had a chance to beep and made her way to the small kitchenette where Jo rummaged through the small fridge. Sasha yawned, shuffling her feet to join her. There wasn’t much room for cooking, but they managed to make do. After years in school, they had the art of sparse living down.

  ‘Morning,’ Jo mumbled, finding what she was looking for. Tall and thin, Jo was a fiery redhead with beautifully translucent skin. Tiny freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. She had the body of a model and an awkward grace that made her endearing. She pulled out a handful of single-serving flavored creamers and set them on the small table next to the brewing coffee pot. ‘I didn’t hear your alarm go off.’

  ‘Can’t sleep.’ Sasha took two mugs off a tray next to the pot and turned them over. She poured a serving of French vanilla into one and hazelnut into the other. ‘It’s warmer in here. My room is an icebox. I think Lulu opens a window in the middle of the night. Either that or she’s the abominable snow girl radiating the frosty temperatures of hell.’

  ‘Hell’s hot, sweetie,’ Jo teased.

  ‘I beg to differ.’ Sasha pulled the robe tighter and sat down at the table, adding wryly, ‘Sweetie.’

  ‘Hey, watch what you say to my girl,’ Carrie warned, shuffling out of her room.

  Carrie was average in height and weight, with chin-length brown hair and matching eyes. The woman never wore makeup, unless she was going clubbing. After pausing long enough to kiss Jo on the cheek, Carrie reached to grab her own cup. She didn’t wait for the pot to stop brewing as she pulled the carafe off the burner and filled her cup. The sizzle of coffee hitting the hot plate sounded.

  ‘You caught me.’ Sasha gave a small laugh. ‘I’m hoping you’ll defend your turf. A broken leg will get me out of Collins’s internship for sure.’

  Professor Collins was her advisor and the head of one of the humanities departments. He had taken a keen interest in seeing her graduate, going so far as to petition to stay her advisor even as she kept trying to change her major. At 25, Sasha had been a college student for six and a half years and that wasn’t counting the early courses she took while still in school. Collins pushed her to find some focus. How could she explain to him that deciding what to do with the rest of her life terrified her? She didn’t understand it completely herself.

  ‘I think you’re just scared of actually finishing a degree,’ Jo said, astute as always.

  ‘I’m scared of those student loan payments that will come due as soon as I do,’ Sasha answered. Giving up on waiting for the coffee pot to finish, she grabbed the carafe and followed Carrie’s example in making a mess. ‘I have nightmares about receiving my diploma and opening it up to find a huge bill, like the kind you get at a hotel after your stay, only this one is as thick as a phone book and—’

  ‘So the idea is to keep adding onto the debt?’ Carrie laughed, only to add sarcastically, ‘Great plan, Sash. Maybe you should switch to a financial planning degree.’

  ‘Huh, don’t think I’ve done that one yet,’ Sasha drawled sardonically. ‘I’ll be sure to get right on that.’

  ‘Why are you worried? That rich boy of yours will pay them off for you. Kingston’s family could buy you fifteen degrees.’ Jo eyed her cup, but didn’t reach for the pot. Carrie sighed and did it for her. ‘Not that you’ll listen to me. If you did, we’d have a new television in here and an espresso machine.’

  Sasha automatically glanced back towards her room to see if Lulu heard. Jo sighed heavily. Carrie said, ‘She can’t hear us. Besides, who’s she going to tell?’

  ‘I don’t understand why this is such a big secret,’ Jo said, shaking her head in disapproval. ‘Your friends know, his friends know.’

  Sasha wasn’t so sure she understood it either, but guilt over what she’d done kept her from pushing Trevor for more of a public commitment. They’d got to a really comfortable place in their relationship and she didn’t want to lose that. Also there was the small matter of how she hadn’t told her family about him. How could she pressure him for a public declaration when she couldn’t bring herself to tell her family?

  ‘It’s not as bad as you make it sound. I have dinner at his parents’ all the time. We just don’t do the public paparazzi thing. He’s New York royalty and we don’t want the pressure of having our relationship become fodder for the tabloids.’

  ‘Wow.’ Carrie nodded slowly. ‘I can almost believe you meant that this time. This isn’t Hollywood. Who cares if all of New York sees he’s dating. It’s not like you’re a leper. You’re skinny as a rail and photograph well.’

  ‘Society pages can be just as bad as the tabloids,’ Sasha said.

  ‘Leave her alone, honey,’ Jo scolded, though the disapproval on her face matched Carrie’s. To Sasha, she said, ‘Kat called yesterday, by the way. She said your brother-in-law is back from Africa and he wanted you to know that if you need help coming up with an idea for your final project to give him call. He’s got new specimens that he’s cataloging for the museum.’

  Her sister, Kat, had married an entomologist, Dr Vincent Richmond, who ran his own laboratory in the DJP Department of Entomology at one of the big museums in the Upper East Side. He was filthy rich, adorably absentminded and lacked the arrogance of the rest of his family. Predictably enough, his parents were friends with Trevor’s parents. She used to think that news of her dating Trevor would get back to the family that way. It never did. Apparently, Mr and Mrs Kingston didn’t talk about their son’s girlfriend.

  Sasha shivered. ‘I think I’ll have to pass. Vincent’s an entomologist and a new specimen is probably code for giant man-eating dung beetles from the deepest parts of Africa.’

  Jo wrinkled her nose. Carrie’s eyes lit with excitement, as she said, ‘If that’s true, you have to convince him to let me use them in my new film for cinema class. I have to do a short horror project. I think a campy remake of 1950s horror classics could be just the thing. I could call it Attack of the Giant Man-Eating Dung Beetles.’

  ‘I’d watch it.’ Sasha took a big drink from her coffee, ignoring the slight sting of heat in her mouth and throat before setting the empty mug down. She laughed at the request. ‘I’ll do what I can but I’m not making any promises.’

  Carrie pumped her fist into the air, jumping in excitement. ‘Yes! That’s freakin’ awesome! Giant bugs. I’m going to sketch some storyboards today.’ She hurried towards her bedroom.

  ‘Carrie, don’t get your hopes—’ Sasha began.

  Jo waved her hand. ‘Don’t bother. She’s in creative mode and won’t hear another word you have to say.’

  Sasha dragged her feet in the snow, ignoring the fact that she couldn’t feel her numb toes. She’d been in a cab until the traffic brought them to a standstill. With the meter running, it was cheaper to get out and walk, not to mention faster. Working part-time as a waitress didn’t really pay for the luxuries.

  Her boots didn’t offer much by the way of protection, but they were cute and that was what she was going for. She was on her way to meet Trevor for breakfast at a little dive
of a café frequented by the senior citizen crowd near the Museum Mile and Central Park. Thankfully, she had a heavyweight, navy wool-blend coat to counteract the freezing temperature. She’d found it at a thrift store. It had been a hidden gem with its stylish double-breasted wide shawl collar and longer, thigh-high length. She pulled at the belt along her waist, cinching it unnecessarily, as if doing so would make her feet warmer. Then, holding her messenger bag tight against her hip, she quickened her pace.

  She wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend before she started her new internship. The next months would be nonstop work. Professor Collins wasn’t too forthcoming with all the details, but she assumed it was because he didn’t have them all. It was a new project that came up at the last minute and he had the task of finding four graduate students to fill the slots. Since her graduate program officially pointed towards a Master of Arts in Latin American Studies with an advanced certificate in Museum Studies, she qualified. Plus, she needed the internship for graduation. Collins required a final joint presentation with an assigned partner and he expected her to work on her masters paper.

  Stomping the snow from her feet as she came to the café door, Sasha kept her head down and pushed inside. A jiggling of a bell marked her entrance. The light resonance of dining patrons clanking silverware to porcelain plates replaced the sounds of the street. She stood in the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light as she brushed snowflakes off her sleeves.

  Seeing Trevor in the back of the restaurant, the only young face visible in the small crowd besides the waitress, she smiled and waved. Even sitting next to a yellowed wall in shadowed light, he emitted charm and grace. His was the kind of face a girl just wanted to grab and kiss. The clean shaven line of his square jaw and high cheekbones framed a straight nose and deliciously dark eyes made even darker by the espresso color of his cashmere v-neck sweater.