Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(49)

I grip his shirt collar and kiss him.

“Let’s start with thirty,” I say even though “starting” has nothing to do with it.

He cups my face, his lips and tongue surpassing mine. His heartbeat is thumping under my hand. Suddenly, he pulls back and watches me. His eyes are utterly still. It’s not until I see them free of movement that I wonder whether for once he is not remembering.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “An errant thought. Would you like more wine?”

“Actually, some warm milk, if you don’t mind,” I mumble because my brain is fully occupied with deciphering the look on his face.

“Milk?” He smiles.

I nod. I have an ulterior motive for this. Milk helps me with nightmares and I am not having another one tonight.

“Okay, milk it is.”

He opens the fridge, pours milk out of the carton in two crystal tumblers and warms it in the microwave. I snap a picture with my camera.

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you take so many pictures, Elisa?”

“End of an era,” I answer truthfully.

He takes the glasses out of the microwave, eyes on me. It’s disconcerting that he never has to look at what he is doing. He sits next to me, hands me my glass and clicks his to mine.

“To new eras,” he says.

“And to the old ones.” I smile, unable to toast to the new epoch ahead of me. I reach for the Baci tower, picking the top chocolate and resolving to save the rest for each of my remaining days.

“Share one with me?” I ask him.

“Can you spare it?”

“Barely.”

He chuckles and takes a Baci. I watch his long fingers peel the silver wrapping and find the quote.

“What does it say?”

“‘All is fair in love and war.’” He reads the wax note quietly.

“Well, that’s not so fatal.” I’m secretly glad that the bewitched Baci didn’t say something like “a woman in a painting will fall in love with you” and terrify him for life.

“Isn’t it?” He looks at the quote again and sets it on the marble bar. “What does yours say?”

I peel mine, fishing the note first. “‘A kiss is a secret told to the mouth.’” Thank you, Rostand! That same surging emptiness ghosts in my chest as I wonder whether this is the only type of secret Aiden will share with me. Maybe I should stop reading these bloody notes altogether.

I swallow and look up. “Tell me a secret, Aiden.”

He leans in slowly until our lips meet. He tastes like milk and Baci. His lips move lightly, like he is whispering. Then his kiss changes. He stands up so abruptly that his bar stool topples behind him on the floor. He fists his hand in my hair and yanks my head back, his mouth inches from mine.

“You want to know a secret, Elisa?”

I nod, breathless.

“I never kiss on the mouth,” he whispers. “Too much taste, too much essence of a woman to remember. But I like kissing you.”

I’m so stunned by this revelation that I pull back but he pinches my chin, shaking his head. He picks me up from my waist, wraps my legs around him and saunters to the long marble kitchen counter. He sets me on it, reaches for my milk glass and takes a sip.

“There are better ways to drink milk.” He winks.

He looks wicked. There is a streak of purpose in his eyes, as though he is on a quest. I fist my hands in his hair and pull him closer. I caress his cheek, stopping at his scar. The compulsion to kiss it is so strong that I lean in, asking for permission with my eyes. He smiles and nods.

I blow on it gently. It’s shaped like an L. For love, I think wildly, high on Haleum. I press my lips to it. It’s a ridge, toughened by time. Its contours imprint the letter on my lips. I kiss it again.

He moans and starts kissing the familiar paths he blazed earlier. My jaw, my throat, my collarbone. “You want to know another secret?” he whispers against my skin.

I moan a “yes”.

He brings his mouth to my ear. “I like you in this dress because you look like you belong to a happy time.”

He unties the bow at the back. I’m too lost to decipher his words so I simply absorb them. Slowly, he undoes the zipper and peels the dress from my shoulder, raining kisses there. He takes it off and sets it on the counter. Then he steps back, gazing at me. I’m fully aware that the lights are on but his words from yesterday ring in my ear. Don’t hide from me. I fight my shyness until he smiles.

“More secrets, Elisa?”

I nod without any power of speech.

“No one looks like you in my memory. Not even you.”

With one of his magical moves, my bra comes off. I wish I could say something but the only sound I’m able to form is a sigh. His lips press on my throat and trail lower, and finally his mouth is on my right nipple. His tongue draws circles, and he weaves kisses and bites in a pattern that makes me shiver. I try to wrap my legs around his waist for contact but he spreads them apart, as far as they will go, spanning the length of the counter. I feel exposed, but my blood is boiling so I don’t quite care. Slowly, two of his fingers slide inside me. The effect on me is violent. My hips lurch forward, craving depth. He growls against my breasts.

“Behave or I won’t tell you any more secrets.” He circles his fingers once, twice. The only sound I can produce is another moan. My hips writhe feverishly against his slow, sure fingers.