“Fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck.”
He chuckles. “That’s usually my line.”
I shake my head, rubbing my nose into his chest. He smells so good—like detergent and sweat and soap and man. Nico. I want nothing more than to get lost in him—get lost in this perfect, strong body that’s never done anything but protect me.
But I can’t.
“I don’t want to be this girl. I wanted tonight to be perfect. You’ve been so patient, and I’m just…”
My voice warbles irritatingly as I trail off, but Nico just chuckles.
I frown. “What’s so funny?”
“You.”
He strokes the side of my face, and his grin is contagious. I smile back, despite the fact that I have no idea what he’s laughing about.
“What about me?” I demand.
“The fact that you think I’d be disappointed by literally anything about you.” He touches his forehead to mine. “I lived almost twenty-seven years loving you, and I didn’t even know you. I spent another year and a half dreaming about you, day and night. Layla, I’ll take whatever you have to give and still be the happiest fuckin’ bastard on the planet. You want to fuck in the nightclub, I’m down, obviously. But if you decide you want to wait until marriage or some shit like that, I’ll do that too. I’d do anything for you, baby. Don’t you know that by now?”
I can’t help it. I grin. His words are balm to my aching heart, my aching soul that’s still not quite healed. He pulls me close, and so I do what comes naturally and kiss him. His mouth stills—he’s surprised, since he was just moving in for a hug. But quickly, he adapts, and before long, we’re right back against the brick wall, the back of the cab, the stairwell of my apartment. It’s several more seconds—minutes?—before we break again, both of us heaving.
Nico gulps and smiles bashfully. “I mean, it’s going to be a little harder if you keep kissing me like that.”
I giggle, and he sighs contentedly.
“God, I love that sound. You mind if I make myself a little more comfortable, sweetie?”
I shake my head, then watch openly as he gets up and strips off the black pants and t-shirt he wears when he’s checking IDs. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him like this, casual and at ease in his own body, uncaring that he’s on display in front of me. He grins when he catches me ogling, but I don’t care. He’s mine to look at. Right?
And he’s beautiful. His skin is smooth and golden, and practically glows in the moonlight, which casts shadows on his chest and stomach, playing over the ridged lines of hard-wrought muscle. His lips are full and open, and his eyes glitter, two black diamonds as they settle on me.
“Come here,” I beckon, and he immediately obeys, sliding under the covers and tucking me comfortably into his warm body.
I don’t have on anything but a thin camisole and my underwear. His warmth surrounds me, skin to skin. We lapse into silence, remembering the feel of each other again. This is good. This is right. My first night in this apartment, my first night back in the city, and he’s here. With me.
We lie there a moment, letting the sounds of our breathing fill the empty space of the apartment, until Nico puts a few inches between us so we are looking at each other across the pillow.
“Tell me what happened,” he says. “If you can.”
I worry my lower lip between my teeth, thinking hard until Nico reaches a hand and plucks my lip free.
“And maybe don’t do that,” he suggests sweetly. He arches a sly brow. “It makes it hard to focus.”
I open my mouth, then close it and exhale through my nose. “Okay. Um…I…”
How do I say this without giving it all away? Without making myself sound like a complete lunatic? A deranged girl? Nico doesn’t need another burden to carry in his life on top of all the people he already supports. He doesn’t need to know that the bathroom was just the start of it. That I rocked back and forth in the back seat of the cab, repeating “here and now” all the way back to my apartment while the Sudanese driver gave me strange looks. That I stared at the tiny pill in my palm for close to thirty minutes before I put it back in the bottle, choosing to feel crazy over feeling numb.
“I don’t…I don’t want to think about…him.”
It takes him a second, but when he figures it out, Nico’s eyes widen. “Him? I made you think about that motherfucker? How?”
“When you…on the wall…with your hand.”
His brow crinkles. I don’t blame him for not remembering—he was in the middle of an orgasm at that moment. I doubt he can remember his own name when he’s coming like that, much less what he’s doing with his hands.
“Is this…do you think about him a lot?”
Yes. “No, not really.” I am such a liar.
Nico seems to think so too. “Baby, come on.”
I sigh. “I’m still working through it, okay? I was doing really well this summer, actually. I thought I was ready to come back here. But last week, the police called to let us know that his trial date was scheduled, but that he was still out on bail…”
I trail off as a chill settles over me. Nico rubs my shoulder. His touch is a welcome warmth.
“He’s still here,” I whisper. “He didn’t go back to Argentina. Nico, he’s still here.”
Nico’s expression turns black, and a muscle in his jaw starts ticking. “When’s his court date?”
I swallow. “In a few weeks. September seventeenth.”
“That’s a Friday,” he says. “What time?”
“The police said one thirty.”
My voice grows small. Nico looks like he wants to punch something. It takes me back to that day again, when he lost himself completely with Giancarlo. I don’t want to tell him that some of my dreams involve him and the rage I witnessed that day. That sometimes, very, very rarely, I dream that he might turn it on me.
I shiver and resist the urge to rock myself.
“Baby, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you gotta go.”
My head jerks. “What? No!”
“Baby—”
“Nico. I don’t want to see him!”
The words are more vehement than I intend, spitting out like bullets. Suddenly my voice is choked, and I can’t breathe. The here and now. The here and now. I chant the words over and over again to myself. But it doesn’t work. Everything feels tighter. My breath draws shallow, and everything starts to spin. I gasp for breath, but none of it seems like enough.
“Layla.”
It’s Nico’s arms folding around me that open up my lungs again. It’s his lips on my neck, the soft vibration of his voice on my skin. He hushes me, holds me until I calm. Until I’m ready to push away the memories of Giancarlo’s looming face and terrible touch instead of this man, a man who truly loves me.
The here and now.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m okay now. Um…sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry about anything,” Nico murmurs. “But, Layla…”
I sigh. “What?”
“I have demons too,” he says. “Which is why I know they’ll stay with you until you face them. You don’t want that shit chasing you forever. Don’t let those memories hold you hostage.”
I blink into his chest. There are times from his life that Nico hates to discuss. The years when Gabe’s father lived with them and used to beat their mother, and probably the kids too. The two years he spent at a detention facility in upstate New York, which is all but a mystery to me, mostly because Nico absolutely will not go there. Plus, I’ve seen the tiny, terrible apartment where he grew up. Poverty is its own kind of trauma, and his lasted a lot longer than the six or so months I was with Giancarlo.
“You won’t be alone,” he says. “I’ll be with you.”
I look up. “You will?”
He snorts lightly and gives me a surprised half smile. “Of course I will, baby. What kind of man do you think I am?”
I blink. “I…I guess I don’t really know,
do I?”
We stare at each other as the reality of the words sinks in. For as much time as we’ve spent this summer flirting and talking, we haven’t really been together in well over a year, and even then, it was tenuous, with his departure to LA hanging over us the whole time.
“Yours,” he says softly. “I’m your man, Layla. No matter what, I’m here for you. You can believe that.”
Just as quickly, the shadows fade away. His warmth envelops me.
“I’m yours too,” I whisper back.
Nico smiles, almost a little sadly. Slowly, he takes one hand to his lips, then the other.
“Not yet,” he whispers. “But I have faith.”
He’s honest, but without judgment. There’s no doubt in his words, just the knowledge that things will be all right if we just give it time. It’s a knowledge I didn’t know I needed until now. A knowledge that scoots me across the pillow and back into his arms.
I kiss him again, and just as quickly as before, what starts sweet almost immediately turns into something more potent. Nico gasps into my mouth and tries to pull away, but I don’t let him. I want more. I want to be us again, whatever that means. His hands drift down my back, and he groans lightly as he finds my ass and squeezes that favorite body part of his, pressing me into the hard length that’s suddenly tenting the front of his shorts.
“Okay!” he shouts suddenly, rolling away and forcing some space between us.
I scowl. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not ready, baby. I…gah. That’s not why I came here tonight.” Nico folds inward, like he’s protecting himself. Almost like he’s in pain.
The blanket has fallen down, and I can see the obvious bulge in his shorts. It turns me on, but just when I go to move his hand away, I stop, stricken again with fear. And immediately, shame.
Why do I have to be like this? My body wants nothing but him. All day. Every day. But some other part of me is screaming to put on the brakes. It’s ruining everything.
“Let’s just go to sleep,” Nico’s saying, but I can barely hear him over the fighting thoughts in my head.
“I…”
I can’t stop staring at the bulge in the front of his shorts. Almost unconsciously, like he’s not even aware of it, Nico’s hand drifts down to adjust himself, then rests there.
I look up. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? Just turn over.”
“What if…I don’t want to?”
Nico sighs. “Layla…”
“I could watch you,” I blurt out and immediately flush. Holy shit. I am some kind of pervert. I could watch him?
A black brow rises playfully. “What?”
I gulp, and the flush gets worse as my gaze drifts back down to the, ah, package he’s now casually stroking. On purpose. Yep, I’m still going to ask.
“If…if you’d let me,” I say, mesmerized by his gentle strokes. “I wouldn’t mind watching you…do that.”
Nico follows my gaze to his cock, and, as if he just now registers what he’s been doing, his eyes brighten considerably. With a bit more purpose now, his hand cups the bulge, straining against the thin black fabric. It’s perfect—not too big, not too small. Slightly curved. I remember exactly how it feels when it presses into that one, perfect spot inside me. How it completely undid me only a few hours before.
Well, almost.
Nico licks his full lips. Then, without a word, he tugs down the waistband, revealing himself completely. When I meet his eyes again, they sparkle with knowing, and he leans in for a kiss.
“This okay?” he asks as his hand starts to move. “Can I kiss you again?”
I nod. “You can always kiss me.”
So he does, moving slowly, softly, until our tongues are wrapped up in that delicate dance together that sets both our bodies alight. It’s a light that can’t be banished, even when the darkness threatens.
“What about you?” he murmurs a bit later. “This ain’t just the Nico show, baby. I have another hand I can use here.”
I glance down to where he works. There’s an ache between my legs now, one I wouldn’t mind taking care of either. But there’s something about watching…I’m not quite ready to give it up.
“I…I think I can do it.”
“Then can I watch too?” That sly brow is back up.
I bite my lip and nod. His eyes dilate as I slide my fingers down and under the band of my underwear. He’s as transfixed by the movements as I am by the way his hand works his solid length. His breathing grows harsher as I find my sweet spot, that small bundle of nerves that makes me come undone. It’s a good interim, a touch I know, a feeling I know. We’ve listened to each other do this countless times over the summer, but this is the first time either of us has watched.
The idea turns me on even more.
“Oh, God,” I groan as my fingers pick up their pace.
Nico grunts, and his hand also moves faster. “Can you see this?” he asks, his deep voice somehow even deeper. “Do you see what you do to me? This isn’t me, Layla. This is you. All you.”
I can’t answer. I’m too busy, too mesmerized by the tension in his body. Nico’s not a big man, but he has the presence of one. This close, seeing the way each well-defined muscle ripples with every flick of his wrist. The way his bricked abdominals squeeze with the effort to keep his cool. The way the compass tattoo over his heart seems to tick ferociously every time his breath picks up a notch.
“Layla,” he croaks, and his other hand snakes around my head and pulls me into him for another fierce kiss.
I return it with as much vigor, finally lost in this moment, lost in him as my fingers work to join him.
“Layla!” Nico cries as his body seizes up suddenly. Every muscle is cast suddenly in high relief, caught in the shadows of the night and the city.
The knowledge of his undoing spurs my own. I shout my release as suddenly as his, but he swallows my cries with yet another kiss as we come together, side by side as the world falls apart, but we come closer to being one.
“Fuck,” he breathes slowly as he comes down. “You wanted to watch…” He chuckles. “I love you so goddamn much, you know that? You’re bananas, but I love you like crazy.”
I can’t do anything but giggle, but his wide, lazy smile tells me he sees everything I’m feeling on my face.
Nico looks down sheepishly to the mess in his hand. “Got a towel? I don’t want to mess up your sheets.”
“Bathroom,” I tell him.
I enjoy the view while he walks away in nothing but his birthday suit, admiring the prize-winning ass that literally stopped me on the street once. I wait patiently while he cleans up and returns to bed. For the first time all night, I feel a sense of peace, which is only heightened the second he slips back into the bed next to me.
“I love you,” he says again as he gathers me close.
I smile behind closed eyes. “I love you too. Good night.” Then I turn over and scoot to the other pillow.
“What are you doing?”
I turn back. “Giving you space.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Baby, why the fuck would you think I need space? When the fuck did I ever want space from you?”
I open my mouth to answer, but just as soon, realize the answer. Never, of course. That was Giancarlo who always insisted on a full three feet between us at night. Who pushed me to the edge of the bed so he could splay his long limbs while he slept.
As if he sees the answer on my face, Nico tugs me back toward him immediately. His arm slips under my neck, and the other one drapes over my stomach, pulling my back firmly into his chest. The man is a furnace, and I crave his warmth.
“I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms again,” he murmurs into my ear, his low voice vibrating over the sensitive skin as he repeats his earlier request. “Is that okay?”
I sigh and nod. I want to tell him that this would be okay every night for the rest of my life. That when I’m wit
h him, I have this feeling like nothing out there could hurt me. Instead I let him gather me close, hold me the way we’ve both wanted for so, so long until his breaths grow deep and regular.
But as the room grows cold again, and the darkness outside fades, that sliver of fear still lingering at the edges of my heart remains. I shut my eyes and focus on the sound of Nico’s breath. The fear will be back tomorrow, and probably the next day too. But for now, I’m safe. For now, I’m where I belong.
Chapter Six
Layla
“Happy birthday, baby.”
There’s a bright light shining in my face, visible even through closed eyelids. When I open them, I see the source: a flash glinting off bright gold. The whole bedroom seems cast in light. Bouncing off the east-facing windows on the other side of me, the early morning sun casts everything with a warm glow.
It’s the first solid night of sleep I’ve had in months. The first night where I didn’t wake up in the middle seized with terror. The first where I didn’t have to spend an hour or more chanting myself back to sleep for another few pitiful hours.
I turn back to the trinket next to me and the eager man holding it. “It’s not my birthday. That was way back in June.”
“I know,” Nico says, holding out the jewelry. “But I wanted to give this to you in person.”
Gingerly, I take it from him, and it’s only when my vision comes fully into focus that I realize what it is.
A gold watch. More specifically, it’s my gold watch. The watch my dad gave me for Christmas last year, which I had to pawn when Giancarlo sent me, unwittingly, to pay off a drug-related debt of his in the South Bronx. Nico helped me sell it in order to avoid much, much worse happening if we didn’t. I turn it over and find the engraved inscription: a minha filha. “To my daughter” in Portuguese, my father’s native language. It’s a little bittersweet to see, since he refused to teach me Portuguese while I was growing up, insisting that I needed to be as Americanized as possible to succeed. It was one of the reasons why his absence last year hurt so badly. Not only did he shield me from a half of myself I had always wanted to know, but then he abandoned both my mother and me to run back to it just the same.
Bad Idea: The Complete Collection Page 77