“Let me explain—”
“Quiet!”
I huffed in outrage. He didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he kept up his determined march to the pool house, dragging me along behind him like a piece of luggage. He stormed through the door, slammed it shut behind us, spun me around to face him, and kissed me. Hard.
I shoved at his chest. He didn’t budge. His tongue invaded my mouth. I twisted my head but he held me in place with one arm banded like a vise around my back. His other hand locked around my jaw.
I bit him. He pulled away with a curse.
“Good, I hope that hurt! Try and kiss me again before apologizing and I’ll bite your tongue off!” I was panting from our walk-run across the yard, from indignation, and from fury. I couldn’t believe he’d actually had the nerve to ask if I’d been the one to instigate that kiss with his brother.
I had half a mind to rip the necklace he’d given me off my throat and choke him with it.
A low, dangerous noise rumbled through Nico’s chest. His eyes flared animal bright. In one swift move, he bent, picked me up, and hoisted me over his shoulder. I found myself upside down, staring at a floor of polished terra-cotta pavers.
“Put me down!”
Instead, Nico slapped my ass with enough force to make me gasp.
“I said, quiet!”
He crossed the room in a few long strides. He flipped me upright, then pushed me down onto a sofa and stood standing over me, staring down in murderous rage, fists clenched, dark hair falling into his eyes.
My mouth went dry. He loved me. I knew he loved me. But at that moment, I would have sworn he was also perfectly capable of wringing my neck.
I kept my voice steady. “Before you do anything, you should know that if you lay a hand on me in anger, it will be the end of us.”
Nico’s lips thinned. Deadly soft, he said, “Katherine. So help me God. One. More. Word.”
“Nico—”
He lunged at me. I squealed, sounding like a mouse when it spots the cat in midjump. But he caught me before I could bolt. His weight pinned me against the sofa cushions. His hands curled around my upper arms. He gave me a jolting shake, as you would give a naughty child, and started to yell.
“Every fuckin’ time things go sideways, all you wanna do is run! You think this is a game, me and you? You think this is somethin’ either of us could ever run from? It’s not, Kat! You don’t run away from what we have and keep on breathin’! This ends, it’ll kill us both!”
With a strangled sound deep in his throat, he crushed his mouth to mine. I strained against him, wanting to bite him again, equally wanting to reassure him. How could he think I thought we were a game? Didn’t he know how much I wanted him? Needed him? How every breath I took, every thought I had, was for him?
As he ripped at my clothing, shoving my dress over my hips, tearing at my panties, I realized there were no words that would reassure Nico of my love.
I had to show him. I had to show him in the only way he could accept, and understand.
I let him push me back against the sofa. I let him drag my panties down my legs. When he fell on me, ripping at his zipper, I wriggled from beneath him. With a murmur to shush his protests, I pushed him back to the cushion I’d just been lying against. Then I lifted my dress over my head, let it fall to the floor, unsnapped my bra and tossed it aside, unzipped his jeans, freed his erection, and took the entire long, hard length of it into my mouth.
Blowjobs aren’t something I’ve ever had strong feelings about one way or another. I know men love them, the same way I’ve always loved it when a man with a skilled tongue goes down on me. These things were all a nice part of sex. But this felt like much more than a mere sex act. More than trying to give pleasure, far more than angling for control.
As I bathed Nico with my tongue, as he arched and brokenly moaned my name, his head tipped back into the cushions, his fingers clenched in my hair, every muscle in his body pulled taut with bliss, I felt as if this was a form of communion.
There was no him. There was no me. There was only us. Giving and receiving, trusting and sharing, divine and holy and raw and ugly and everything in between.
“Baby,” he groaned, thrusting his hips helplessly, his fingers twitching against my head. “Please. Please.”
He was begging me for mercy. He was begging me for release. I’d give him both, but not before making him pay for it.
I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock and began to stroke him in time with the pull of my mouth. With my other hand I cupped his balls. He shuddered, widening his thighs. His taste, his smell, his sounds, his ragged breathing . . . with every audible tick of the clock on the wall, I surrendered myself to sensation.
I surrendered myself to him.
“Tell me what you want.” I paused briefly to run my tongue around the velvet, throbbing crown of his erection. “Tell me what you need, Nico.”
“You, you, angel, always you.” His hips flexed into my hands. He opened his eyes and stared down at me, his face flushed with color, his hair stuck in damp strands to his forehead. His voice dropped to almost nothing. “For me it will always, only, be you.”
I tortured him with my tongue. My lips. My hands. He made a pleading noise. His lids fell shut. When he groaned, long and low, his entire body stiffening, I knew he was close. I straddled him, guiding him to my entrance, and hovered there above him, waiting for him to open his eyes.
When he did, I said softly, “I love you, Nico. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you. Do you believe that?”
His hands wrapped around my hips, pushing down, trying to enter me. I used my thighs to resist, stroking the head of his cock gently back and forth against my wetness. He groaned again, and I bent down to whisper into his ear.
“I love you. I will always love you. I belong to you, no matter what.”
He kissed me, desperate for my mouth. His hips bucked. When I wouldn’t let him slide into me, he grunted in frustration.
The next thing I knew I was on my back with his face between my legs.
I cried out as I felt the soft heat of his mouth on my aching center. He devoured me, roughly nursing my clit, sliding two fingers inside me, even sliding his tongue all the way inside me. I arched, gasping his name. His free hand caressed my breasts, pinching my hard nipples.
He lifted his head and turned it to my thigh. He bit me there, lightly, watching me with feral eyes. “Say it again.”
I watched in fascination as his head slowly lowered. He stroked his tongue in a slow circle around my clit, still looking at me, ravenous as a wolf. Then he stopped, waiting for me to speak.
“I love you,” I whispered.
He rewarded me with a dark smile, and his mouth. I moaned with the feel of him sucking hard on my swollen, sensitive nub. His teeth skimmed it, and my whole body jerked. He made a sound of male satisfaction, brought both hands up to squeeze my breasts, and did it again.
The sensation was so intense, I sucked in a breath. It felt like tiny explosions were going off in all parts of my body. Fireworks burst in blazing color beneath my skin.
I closed my eyes, and gave myself over to pleasure. My hips moved to their own rhythm, keeping time with Nico’s tongue. Soft moans worked from my throat. Heat blossomed across my cheeks and chest. I began to spiral past rational thought, consumed by what he was doing to me.
“This is my pussy.” His whisper was so soft he might have been speaking to himself.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted.
His hands tightened around my breasts. “These are mine, too, aren’t they, baby?”
He swept his thumbs back and forth over my rigid nipples. My answer was a softly begging whine. He pulled himself up my body, positioned himself between my legs, and took my face in his hands. He kissed me. I tasted myself on him, salt and musk and wetness, and loved it.
“And this beautiful mouth is all mine, isn’t it?”
His cock nudged my entrance. I arched m
y back, hungry for it, but Nico wasn’t giving me an inch until I gave him what he wanted. His voice was no longer a whisper. It was demanding, and hard. “Answer me.”
“Yes, Nico.”
He flexed his hips, allowing only the head of his cock to sink inside me. I moaned, and he smiled, wicked as the devil.
“Those eyes are mine, too.”
“Yes, God, yes.”
He gave me another inch. “What else, baby?”
I clawed at his ass, desperate for more of him. “Everything, Nico! All of me! I’m all yours, I swear it—”
My babbling turned to gasps as he thrust inside me, burying himself to the hilt. He held my head, his fingers tangled in my hair, and began to fuck me, slow and deep. He dropped his forehead to mine. I felt his breath on my cheek, heard his rough whisper in my ear.
“For how long will you be mine, Kat? A day?” Thrust. “A week?” Thrust. “A year?”
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
As I stared into his eyes, lost, it occurred to me in a flash of comprehension that this is what real happiness felt like. Burning and flying and unexpected freedom, that last, breathless moment at the top of a roller coaster before you throw both your hands up in the air and let loose a thrilled scream as you begin the weightless drop.
Any final resistance inside me fell away. I belonged to this man, body, heart, and soul, and I grasped the full reality of it in the space of one heartbeat to the next.
On a trembling breath I said, “I’ll be yours for as long as both our hearts are beating.”
Nico stilled. His brow furrowed. His lips parted, as if he’d say something, but he made no sound. But his eyes spoke to me, and what they said was this:
Worship you, cherish you, love you more than anything on this earth.
Joy seared through me, brilliant as a sunbeam slicing through a thundercloud. I’d never felt anything so beautiful, or so powerful, or so perfectly pure.
I started to cry.
He pressed kisses all over my face, murmuring endearments. He started to move again, and I moved with him, and shortly thereafter the two of us made so much noise I was vaguely surprised someone didn’t call the police to find out what all the screaming was about.
We tumbled off the couch in a mess of arms and legs. Sweating, panting, undone, we lay on the cool tile floor, staring up at the ceiling until finally Nico started to laugh.
“Something funny, superstar?”
He returned my sour look with a gentle smile. Swiping his thumb beneath my lower lids, he said, “Other than your raccoon eyes?”
I jabbed him with my elbow. He laughed louder, and pulled me against his chest. “Forgot she doesn’t like to be teased about bein’ such a softie.”
“Right. You also forgot she doesn’t like to be referred to in the third person.” I jabbed him again.
He rolled over and nuzzled his face into my neck. I had no choice but to melt.
“Just fuckin’ life,” he murmured, sighing. His arms tightened around me. “One of the worst days can also somehow be one of the best days.”
I knew why it was one of the worst. But . . . “How so?”
“Because, sweet girl, you finally gave up the cookie.”
I frowned. “I hate to correct you on such a delicate subject, but I gave up the cookie a while ago.”
“That wasn’t the real cookie, baby.”
I felt vaguely insulted. “Excuse me?”
Nico smiled at me. It was like being bathed in sunshine. “Don’t get me wrong, now, that cookie between your legs is fine. More than fine,” he amended with a chuckle when I glared at him. “But the real cookie’s your heart, baby. That’s the cookie I always wanted. You gave me little nibbles. You even gave me a couple of big bites. But you finally gave all of it to me today, right now.” All traces of humor left his face. His voice dropped to a soft, wondering whisper. “And it’s the sweetest thing I ever tasted in my life.”
I let it sit there a moment, not daring to speak. Speaking might ruin it. And I wanted to remember this moment forever, remember exactly how he was looking at me, how it seemed as if we’d just discovered a new planet together. As if we’d just opened the door on an entirely different world.
“You know,” I said, voice breaking, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you sat around making up this stuff in advance only to trot it out at the right moment, just to see if you can get me to cry.”
He glanced at a square of black fabric bunched beneath my hip, a square of wrinkled fabric, sporting a suspiciously wet stain. “Well, if you weren’t cryin’ before, you might start now.”
Nico hadn’t worn a condom. At the last minute he’d pulled out. “Oh, shit. That’s my dress, isn’t it?”
“’Fraid so, baby.”
Monica Lewinsky and I suddenly had something in common. “Tremendous. You think anyone will notice?”
“Nah.” He paused, looking me over. “Might notice that big hickey on your neck, though. And that just-been-righteously-fucked hair. And I probably shouldn’t mention what’s happenin’ with your makeup. Raccoon eyes are the least of your worries in that department.”
I’d applied a deep berry-pink lipstick earlier today. I wondered how far away it had migrated from my mouth. I sighed, defeated. “Well, then. I’m hiding in the pool house until after everyone’s gone.”
Nico’s eyes darkened. “Probably not a bad idea, considerin’.”
Considering his brother, the new monkey wrench in the clockworks. As if we didn’t already have our fill of those.
I stroked his cheek, wiping away a bead of blood on the small cut beneath his eye. The area was bruised and beginning to swell. Damn him and his hair-trigger temper. No man was perfect, but this particular character flaw of his had me seeing an alarming number of stupid fights in our future.
At least the make-up sex would be amazing. As would the make-up sweet talk.
Those alone were practically worth a fight.
“Tell me you know I didn’t . . . Michael. I didn’t start that. I would never do something like that to you.”
He whispered, “I know, baby. And I’m sorry for bein’ an idiot. But walkin’ in, seein’ that, today of all fuckin’ days . . . I just lost my shit.” He sighed deeply. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I should’ve known how it happened.”
“I actually don’t know exactly how it happened.” As an afterthought, I added, “I’m not even sure he meant anything by it.”
Nico gathered my hand in his and kissed my fingertips. The gesture was gentle, but his eyes were still dark, and his lips had thinned to a line. “You don’t know Michael. He doesn’t do anything without a reason. But it doesn’t matter what he meant. He put his hands on you. He’s lucky he’s still breathin’. Does it again, he won’t be.”
I thought it smart to avoid further discussion in that area for the moment. We’d had enough death for one day. “Come and get me when it’s over?”
Nico stood, lifted me to the sofa, draped a throw over me, and quickly dressed. Turning his gaze to the main house, visible through the windows, he muttered, “Yeah. When it’s over.”
He kissed me, then he was gone.
I didn’t see Michael again. When Nico came back to the pool house, and I asked what had happened, Nico only said that Michael wouldn’t be a problem for us again. Judging by the look of cold resolution on his face, I believed him.
Then, as it does, life went on.
After a few weeks, Avery’s death took a backseat to other stories in the news, and Nico and I settled into something resembling normalcy. I worked. He recorded songs for Bad Habit’s upcoming album. I hung out with Chloe and Grace, he hung out with the band. I spent most nights at his house, he pestered me about when we could announce our engagement.
“It’s still too soon,” I’d always answer gently. “Really, there’s no rush. Let’s just enjoy this time together.”
Every time I said that, his mouth thin
ned to a hard line.
But I knew as soon as we announced the engagement, life as I’d known it would be over. For now we existed in a private little bubble, under the media’s radar, evading the paparazzi by laying low at the Shack. When I needed to leave the house, Barney drove me. Even with the blackout windows on the Escalade, and Barney’s expert ability to lose a tail, I still felt exposed. I wanted to put off life in the fishbowl as long as possible.
On this particular day, Chloe and I were lying on chaise longues by the pool, enjoying the warm September sun. Nico and the band were in the recording studio downstairs, where they’d been for hours. I had a day off from work, and Chloe was playing hooky from the flower shop.
“So what’s the 411 on you and Officer Cox? Is it loooove?” I asked, munching on a potato chip.
Chloe blushed at my teasing. She and the good officer had been on multiple dates over the past few weeks. It looked like her ex–douche bag, Miles, was finally out of the picture.
“Something like that,” Chloe muttered, glancing away.
I sat up, shading my eyes from the glare of the sun. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Everything’s great, silly!” She laughed, waving a hand, but I sensed something behind her dismissal. Like me, she’d always been a terrible liar.
“Really? Is that why you’re not looking me in the eye when you say that?”
“It’s just . . . ” She sighed extravagantly and rolled her eyes. “God, I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.”
Now she had my full attention. I swung my legs over the chaise, peering at her through my sunglasses. The deck was hot beneath my bare feet, the sun warm on my shoulders. “Don’t tell me he’s not nice to you.”
“No, nothing like that! For someone who wears a gun to work, he’s surprisingly sweet.” She sipped from the glass of iced tea on the little table between us, then set it back down and began to apply more suntan lotion to her legs.
“So?” I prompted, impatient.
She paused, looking sheepish. “It’s just that . . . ” she cleared her throat. “Well, to be totally honest, he’s not a very good kisser.”
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