Klaud Nine considered herself an inherently practical woman.
She didn't mince words. She didn't regret things she couldn't control. She cried when she was sad, yelled when she was angry, and laughed when she was happy – and that was the end of it. She didn't let emotions fester inside her, because it never did any good.
That's what she told herself, anyway. And it was almost true.
The Vatican Staff was gone now – they had left shortly after escorting Allen Walker out of the room. She was alone with him, for the first time in years. His couch was just as she remembered it: just soft enough to be comfortable, just stiff enough to be resilient. She had so many memories of this couch, and they all started the same way. They all started just like this.
The smooth, cold leather of Cross Marian's gloves teased over the skin of her back like a feather. It took all her control to keep her hands from shaking. If they trembled even a bit, it would disturb the wine she held and he would be sure to notice immediately. Klaud Nine would never let Cross Marian know how she felt when he touched her.
Cross Marian loved things, not people. He loved his wines, and his cigarettes. He loved money, and all the pleasures money could buy. And, most assuredly, he loved making love to Klaud Nine. Klaud knew her own talents well enough to be sure of that.
But Cross Marian did not love Klaud Nine, not the woman, not any more than he loved a bottle of wine or a fine unlit cigar. Cross Marian only loved what he could possess.
His gloved hand grabbed the tiny zipper on the back of her open-necked blouse, and he unzipped it slowly. She had worn an especially tight blouse for her trip to his room, and she could feel the cold, metallic zipper sliding down her spine, sending chills through her. Again, she held her hands steady.
Cross slipped his other hand into her hair, and the leather of his glove tugged uncomfortably. He leaned in to kiss her, and as their lips met, he turned her body away from him, exposing her back. His gloved hands massaged the muscles of her shoulders as she finished her wine. She set the glass back on the table. Her hands were still steady as a rock, and she felt proud of herself for that. Longing and anxiety gripped her stomach like twin pythons.
Cross removed the blouse deftly, exposing her breasts. He pulled her backward with one hand until her head rested in his lap, staring up at him. She kept her expression calm and unreadable. Lau Jimin, now perched atop the back of the couch, chittered nervously.
Cross poured himself another glass of wine. He held the glass in his left hand and swirled it, admiring the legs of the vintage. His right hand strayed to her exposed chest, and still-gloved, it began to caress her breasts.
Klaud had never lost her amazement at the skill with which Cross could touch her. In all their years of lovemaking, he had never once removed those gloves. And even as she longed to feel his hands touch her, skin against skin, she had never once begrudged him what caresses he gave. Even with those leather gloves, Cross was more sensuous, more provocative with his fingers than any other man she had ever known.
She folded her hands over her stomach and closed her eyes. Still, her hands didn't tremble.
Klaud heard him drink from his wineglass. It was a sound distinctive to Cross Marian, like the sound of an indrawn breath echoing against glass. He drank wine as it was meant to be drunk, pulling it across his palette with the air in his mouth, savoring the bouquet even as his tongue bathed in the mixture of sweet and bitter. He did not sip, the way Tiedoll often did. He did not slurp, as Winters was prone to do. He drank. He drank wine in the same way that she drank in his touch.
His fingers had found one of her nipples, now, and they pinched at her gently. She calmed her breathing, but she could hear Lau Jimin chittering more excitedly now. She would not betray her feelings to him. Cross Marian only loved what he could possess, but she would not let herself be possessed by him. There were some things not even she could endure.
As if in response to her thoughts, he whispered suddenly. "I love you, Klaud Nine."
Her hands wanted to shake. Her whole body wanted to shake. She refused to let it. Lau Jimin shrieked, and she couldn't tell if it was anger or excitement anymore. This was a new tactic, one Cross had never used on her before, but she refused to let it affect her. He loved his games, but this was one game he could never be allowed to win.
Cross Marian smiled to himself as he carried Klaud Nine to the bed. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and her face was buried in his neck. She didn't tremble in the slightest. It was more than he could say for most women. By now, most women would have dissolved into helpless trembling. Lau Jimin continued to screech quietly on the couch.
One day, he thought he would have to remove his gloves for her. Just for the sake of the game, for the sake of distracting her. Cross loved to taunt her, loved to make her think he was trying to break her resolve. She had worked so hard to create that thin shell that kept him from touching the person inside. She was a prize like no other, to be able to resist him so well when other women melted at the touch of his lips.
It was so much fun to play the game with her, even if he had already won all those years ago. It simply amused him to keep playing.
He had won the day she told him that Lau Jimin was a parasitic innocence.