by RC Boldt
Not even a split second after I say it does she fit her mouth over my cock in a suction that has me seeing stars. My hips pump, and I wrestle against the urge to fist her hair and fuck her face. She uses her tongue to do exactly what I wanted—she runs it along the length of the vein that juts out. When she circles the flared head before taking me deep, again, my hips buck wildly, and I spill my release inside her hot, wet mouth.
Fisting my hands at my sides, I pinch my eyes closed. My chest heaves like I’ve run a goddamn marathon while she swallows every fucking ounce I give her. When I peer down and find her watching me, my cock jerks again, and she slowly eases her lips off me.
I’m boneless right now and totally fucking wrecked by the woman I can’t tear my eyes off of. She leans back on the bed, eyeing me with a unique mix of shyness and female satisfaction.
“You liked doin’ that?” A part of me needs to ask, to make sure she wanted to and didn’t feel like I forced her into it.
She studies me for a moment. “For you, yes.”
That answer—the way she words it—has me feeling like I could conquer anything in this world as long as she’s by my side.
It’s a pipe dream to think I could have her if I manage to come out of this unscathed, but it’s my goddamn pipe dream.
And I’ll hold on to it till my last dying breath.
37
Olivia
As I slowly rouse the following morning, I’m bombarded by a multitude of feelings.
My body’s sore but in a satisfying, almost decadent way. I’m sated as if I indulged in a five-course meal of all of my favorite foods. A sense of achievement flutters through me at the intimacy I was able to partake in without any fear or flashbacks.
My birthday ended with me falling asleep, curled up with Nico, after having the hottest orgasm of my life and witnessing his own.
Now, waking up in the T-shirt he loaned me—one his scent clings to regardless of it being freshly laundered—I blink my eyes open, and a smile unfurls instantly. A heavy, tattooed arm is tucked around my front, and I lie on my side with his warm, hard body flush against my back.
His breaths are even but nearly inaudible. I take advantage of him being asleep and lightly stroke my fingertips over the swirls of ink etched along the tops of his hands. The sight of his long, tapered fingers has the memory of how he’d stroked himself last night rushing to the forefront of my mind.
This complicated and intriguing man allowed me to do things my way. He hadn’t pressured me, unlike the men in my past. Part of the reason may very well be because Nico knows of it. He understands my reticence for intimacy, especially when I’m not in control. He allowed me to fully hold the reins.
None of the men I’ve dated have allowed me to take charge. They were incapable of granting me time to adjust to a level of intimacy I felt comfortable with.
Yet this man who holds me so snug while he sleeps, as though he’s afraid I might be snatched away at any given moment, succeeded in giving me exactly what I needed.
This man, a known criminal, managed to show me it was possible. That a man who will accept me—regardless of my flawed hang-ups—does exist. One who wouldn’t throw them back in my face once he realized he wasn’t going to “get laid” in the end.
Last night, Nico parted the clouds of worry within me to show me a bright beam of hope. That maybe I can work through this once and for all and put it behind me.
When his arm tightens and he buries his face in my neck, I internally vow to cherish this moment. To store it in my memories so I can revisit it in years to come. He places a tender kiss on top of my shoulder, and I swallow hard past the lump of emotion rising in my throat.
“Mornin’, beautiful.” His raspy voice skitters over me, and for the first time, I wish I could give him a part of myself that I’ve been unable to share with anyone else. Regardless of this man’s deeds and the dangerous world he rules, if I rolled over and gave myself to him, he would recognize the offering to be more than just sex. He’d understand the relevance.
He’d cherish it. Somehow, I know this with one hundred percent certainty.
“Morning.” My voice is husky, and even though the subtle signs of the morning sun peek through the Venetian blinds, I’m reluctant to move from the bed. Normally, I’m not one to sleep in, but I could easily get used to snuggling in bed with him like this.
A pang of painful regret lances through me because I know it’s not possible. We have no future.
And when the moment arrives for me to make my choice, I’ll need to remember that.
Awkward uncertainty edges its way into my mind, starting as a trickle before gaining momentum. The longer I lie here while Nico drops soft kisses along the side of my neck, the more I wonder what the hell to do.
Snap out of it, I reprimand myself.
I have nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. Last night had been hot as hell, and I feel as if a fifty-ton weight has been lifted off my shoulders. One I’ve been lugging around for far too many years.
“Hey.”
I go still at the sound of Nico’s deep voice as it draws me from my inner turmoil.
“Don’t be overthinkin’ it.”
My initial response is to adopt a nonchalant tone. “Oh, I wasn’t—”
“No.” His firm but gentle interruption has me stiffening. “Don’t lie to me.” Burying his face in my neck, he murmurs, “You were thinkin’ too hard ’bout what happened last night.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask how he knows, but I don’t.
His voice is laced with what sounds like reverence and affection. “You were fuckin’ beautiful last night, you hear me? Bein’ with you like that was…” He trails off, then grunts as though he’s irritated that he can’t find the right words. I hold my breath in anticipation of his response. “You were incredible and hot as fuck. And nothin’ about any of it should be embarrassin’ to you.”
I manage to whisper, “Really?”
As he hugs me from behind, a veil of admiration clings to his softly spoken words. “I’m proud as hell of you.” Then he drops a kiss to my head and moves, the bed shifting as he gets up.
He pads over to the bathroom with complete disregard for his nudity. Damn, the man’s ass is a work of art, so firm and muscled. My eyes track his movements as he disappears into the bathroom.
There’s a pause, and then his voice carries over to me. “Wear comfortable clothes. Got someplace I wanna take you.”
38
Nico
“Um, this definitely wasn’t what I was expecting.” Olivia casts a curious glance around the indoor shooting range.
It’s a place I know is safe, thanks to my connections from before I sank neck-deep into this life. Since they owe me a favor, I got them to clear the place out for us.
“Figured since you’re stuck with me, and with all that happened, it’d be smart to show you the ropes. ’Cause gun safety’s no joke.”
Rafe had been concerned when I told him my plan to bring her here, but I want my woman to be able to protect herself. To feel comfortable enough handling a weapon and have the knowledge she needs.
“First thing”—I settle a pair of protective glasses on her face—“is to protect those beautiful eyes of yours.” I smooth back her hair, and the unguarded way she watches me has my chest tightening. Withdrawing a pair of earplugs from the pocket of my athletic pants, I open and discard the plastic packaging before handing them to her.
“Use your hand to pull your ear up and back like this”—I guide her hands—“then insert it in your ear canal.” Stepping back, I explain, “It’s good to wait a half a minute for the plug to expand in your ear.”
She nods with a cute furrow of her brow and follows my instructions to insert the first earplug. “Like that?”
She peers up at me with so much innocent eagerness that I want to say to hell with teaching her to shoot and just kiss the fuck out of her.
Goddamn, it’d been heaven on earth having
her warm body pressed against mine. It’d felt like I was finally…at peace.
Fuck. I shake off my train of thought because it only leads to a dead end. The least I can do is leave her with the knowledge of how to handle an automatic weapon.
“Yeah, baby. That’s perfect. Now, do the other one.”
Once she does, I insert my own. Then I walk over to the handguns I already showed her and explained their basic features. I had her practice loading and reloading and made sure she understood proper grip and aim.
Speaking loud enough so she can hear me, I show her my grip on the Sig Sauer, reminding her of the placement of her non-firing arm to help stabilize her grip. I figure this gun’s a good start for her since it’s not as heavy.
“This target’s forty yards away to start off, but don’t stress over it. Just practice aimin’.” Focusing on the target, I exhale slowly before placing my finger on the trigger. After firing three shots, I carefully put the safety on the gun, then set it down beside me.
Picking up the binoculars, I can’t help but smirk when I see the two holes in the left upper quadrant of the bull’s-eye, while the other lies just on the border of the dark black bull’s-eye. Not bad, but I can do better.
“Wanna try now?”
Olivia looks hesitant, but she steps forward and picks up the pistol. I’m not surprised she’s a quick learner. Nope, my professor is as smart as a whip.
When she flicks off the safety and curls her hands and fingers around the weapon, she seems more at ease than some of the newbies I’ve seen in here before.
Damn, she looks sexy as fuck holding this gun. Fierce and determined.
She fires once, and her body jumps a little.
“It’s all good, baby,” I tell her. “Gotta get used to it. Get to know the way it feels when it fires off that bullet.”
She nods, brow furrowed, and fires twice more. Carefully lowering the weapon, she flicks on the safety before setting it down.
I pick up the binoculars and take a look at how she did. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” She got two on the target, at least, so that’s a start, even if they’re on the outside of the largest circle.
She steps back with a defeated sigh, and I set the binoculars down. Tugging her close, I try to comfort her. “Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.” I drop a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you watch me again, and we’ll practice some more?”
She nods with a look of utter concentration on her face. I pick up the pistol, go through the routine motions, and fire off the remaining rounds of ammunition. Am I showing off for her? Maybe. Maybe I want my woman to know I can protect her. That I can easily shred a motherfucker with bullets if he dares to come near her.
I reload another clip before I pick up the binoculars. Once I spot the holes in my target, there’s no way I can hide a satisfied grin when I hand the binoculars to her. “Go ahead. Take a look.”
She peers through the lenses at the holes puncturing the outline of the center black bull’s-eye. Lowering the binoculars, she peers at me with an indecipherable expression. “That’s impressive.”
“Yeah?” I grin and dip my head. “Impressive enough to get a kiss out of it?”
Her laughter… It’s music I could listen to for the rest of my life. “Maybe.” Her lips stretch in a mischievous smile. “Can we change out the target so I can try again?”
“Yeah, sure. Gimme a minute.”
If my woman wants to have a brand-new target to practice on, so be it. Maybe she doesn’t want to have the evidence of my shots making her feel inferior.
Once I set it up for her, I pause with my fingers on the button to control the distance the target is set at. “You want it closer? Or the same distance?”
“The same.” Her eyes spark with excitement, and damn if I’m not flooded with pride. My woman has a competitive streak, even at the beginner stage. “Just want to see if I’m picking up the fundamentals.”
I back away as she gets into position, watching her as she spreads her feet the correct width apart for balance. Goddamn, she’s a natural.
She fires off one shot, sets the pistol down, and turns to me, her hair slightly mussed, cheeks flushed… Motherfucker.
I’m a goner. There’s no way in hell I’ll come out of this any other way except without my goddamn heart. She fucking owns it.
She hands me the binoculars, eyes shining with excitement. I take them numbly, forcing myself to tear my eyes off her. I give myself a few extra seconds before I do, just to memorize the way she’s looking at me right now. I want to remember her like this instead of how she’ll look at me in the end.
Once I raise the binoculars and focus on the target, my entire body goes still. What the fuck? How the hell did she do that? Tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I turn to stare at her in disbelief.
Her bullet pierced the center of the target almost perfectly.
Her smile is wide and carefree, eagerness practically radiating from her. “Did I do any better?”
“Yeah,” I answer slowly. Not taking my eyes off her, I hit the switch for the automatic target retriever and wait for the trolley cable system to return it to us. Releasing the switch when the hanging target arrives, I carefully assess her reaction. Her mouth goes slack when she sees the hole, eyes going wide, and then her gaze snaps to mine.
“Oh my God!” She darts another look at the target, as if in disbelief. And, yeah, I’m feeling similarly. A slow-forming smile spreads on her face as she peers at me. “I guess beginner’s luck is really a thing, after all.”
39
Olivia
Nico’s expression is unreadable, and I get the feeling his eyes are attempting to pinpoint something. I suppose I shouldn’t have let my competitive streak get the best of me—to try to best a man like him. It’s only asking for trouble.
It speaks volumes that he brought me here. That he trusts me enough to show me how to use weapons—ones I could easily use on him if I wanted.
My breathing stutters under his scrutinizing gaze, and it spurs me into action. Rising to my toes, I throw my arms around him and hug him. I hope he feels my excitement; that it’s palpable enough to distract him from my shot on the target.
When his arms curl around me and he squeezes me tight, I relax a fraction. Then a little more when he says, “Look at you, baby. You’re a natural.”
Easing back, I peer up at him. The tense quality of his features has mostly subsided, and I itch to smooth the lingering tightness around his mouth with my fingertips. “You think?”
“I know so.” Eyes flaring with heat, he dips his head to lightly drag his lips over mine. “Been dyin’ for another taste of this mouth of yours.”
His words send heat climbing up and lodging itself in my throat. His lips are a distraction I’m unable to muster much complaint about. I love the way they tip up in a smirk and how they curve into a rare satisfied smile.
The way they mold so perfectly to mine.
When I take the plunge and bring my lips to his, he doesn’t hesitate. He fuses his mouth to mine in a kiss I’ve been craving, and a groan rumbles from deep within his chest.
Our kiss is needy, passionate, but tucked beneath the edges are emotions I’m afraid to acknowledge. Especially when I detect the faintest hint of fear and regret.
Instead, I push it all aside, knowing that I need to stay the course. I can’t afford to be distracted by the nuances of a man who exudes menace and danger yet hides a tenderness I didn’t think he was capable of possessing.
I throw myself into the kiss because I can’t allow him to burrow any further inside the recesses of my heart.
Not more than he already has.
40
Nico
“Where are we going again?” Olivia asks.
“Ain’t good with surprises, are you?”
She lets out a laugh, and I swear it curls tight around me. “Not really.”
When she turns to stare out the window while I drive, I decide to ta
ke pity on her. “We’re goin’ to a hole-in-the-wall. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
“How much longer?”
“Is this the equivalent of ‘Are we there yet?’”
She huffs, but when I toss a glance at her, she’s smiling. Goddamn, she’s pretty.
The conversation on the drive has been easy, with an almost familiar feel to it. Like some desperate scavenger grasping for any goddamn morsel of knowledge I can get my hands on, I want to know things I won’t find anywhere else.
“If you had to eat one type of food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
Her answer is quick, holding zero hesitation. “Sushi, hands down.”
“Can’t fault you there.”
“What about you?”
I toss her a quick glance. “I’d be good with any kind of seafood.”
Concentrating on the traffic and ensuring Marcus and Tino are still tailing us, I grip the steering wheel in one hand while my other one rests on the console between us. My fingers are threaded through hers, and I can’t resist stroking my thumb along her soft skin.
“Is your...” Olivia hesitates before continuing. “Is your father still alive?”
A smile tugs at my lips when I think of my mom. “No. My dad hit the road a long time ago. It was just my mom and me till she passed away.”
“I’m sorry,” she offers gently. Here’s the thing about Olivia. When she offers sympathy, it’s not some empty words spoken out of obligation. Her words are real.
“We were better off without ’im. Mom was the best.” Without realizing it, my fingers tighten on hers. “She woulda loved you.”
“You think so?” A mixture of curiosity and vulnerability cloaks her words.
“Hell, yeah.” And it’s the truth. She might be hella pissed at me for the extremes I’ve gone to in my life, no doubt about that. But if I’d have brought Olivia home to meet her, she would’ve been over the fucking moon.