Settled in the curve of his arm, I tipped us a drop each of demoniac from the crystal bottle in my purse. He licked his droplet off my finger, making me giggle a little. He was handsome when he wasn’t going on about his Middle Western manners and morals. I pulled down the voile curtain that separated us from the driver, and twitched open his collar, where I found what I thought I would, a dark bite mark from a wide mouth.
“Jordan…”
“You must know by now I don’t mind,” I said.
“Maybe I do.”
“If you mind, then you ought not do it,” I said smartly, and then I hesitated. “You … do want to, right? He isn’t…”
Nick colored to the tips of his ears. I knew that he probably wouldn’t tell me one way or another. I sighed, petting his soft, dark hair.
“Never mind,” I said. “You’re a dear. I don’t care about that.”
“Do you care about anything?”
It wasn’t an accusation, but an actual question. I hesitated, and he took my hand, kissing the palm gently. It sent a shiver through me, and I pressed closer to him. Even in the heat, he felt good, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck, pretending at a shyness I never had.
“I care about a lot of things,” I said. “How much fun I have. What people think about me. My aunt. Daisy.”
I hesitated.
“You.” It wasn’t exactly true, not the way I suspected he wanted it to be, but it wasn’t not true either.
He smiled as if the sun had come out, and it made me swallow hard, blushing a little.
“Anyway, Daisy ought to have something in her life,” I said, looking away. “Will you arrange the meeting?”
“Does she want to see Gatsby?”
Of course she did. The moment I had told her he existed, the moment she knew he wanted her, she had been ready to fly to him. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that Gatsby wanted things done just so, fitting into some story that made me wary and intrigued Daisy.
“She’s not to know about it,” I said, sidestepping neatly. “Gatsby doesn’t want her to know. You’re just supposed to invite her to tea.”
Nick made an agreeable noise, and as the victoria made its way through the shadows of the lowering sun, I curled a little closer to him, letting him cup my face and lean down to kiss me. In that moment, I knew that he had put all thoughts of Daisy and Gatsby and the rest of the world aside.
I reached up to ruffle my fingers through his hair, making him laugh a little.
“You’re going to make me look a wreck when we get out,” he murmured.
“Good. I want you utterly ruined, completely wrecked.”
I kissed him harder until I could feel him rouse, his hips shifting a little as his kisses became more urgent.
“No marks,” I murmured in his ear. “I don’t have the benefit of high collars like you do.”
In response, he slid the scanty strap of my dress aside slightly, and I felt the nip of his teeth against the humid skin there. I clung to him as he put a discreet but credible bite on my skin, and then just as the victoria pulled out of the trees and onto the busier thoroughfare alongside Sixty-Fifth Street, I pushed him away, sitting up straight with my knees together, almost trapping his hand between my thighs before he pulled back.
Nick grinned at me, looking quite debauched with his hair sticking up in all directions and his mouth red, and I decided that perhaps I did love him after all.
“Wicked thing,” he said with some delight.
“Of course,” I replied, pleased.