by CC MacKenzie
Chapter Sixteen
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Dazed, Bronte jerked awake and stared at him.
Nico, good God, she was in his arms and he was murmuring words in soft, rapid Italian.
Heat scorched her cheeks and other intensely intimate parts of her as reality dumped her firmly in the present.
Still groggy, she refused to let her mind linger on the moment when she found her parent's bodies lying under blankets at the side of the road. She would not permit a nightmare to destroy this wonderful moment.
Stretching like a cat she ached gloriously in parts of her she never knew existed.
Nico's mouth brushed over hers.
"I am going to run you a bath, cara. Lie still until I come for you."
He rose and strode naked in all his glory into her bathroom.
Indulging herself, Bronte admiring his tight buttocks and long, lean, muscular legs.
The thud of ancient water pipes heralded hot water gushing into the antique clawed bath.
Nico hummed in a deep baritone.
Still sleepy, she listened to the sound of swishing bubbles, then the water ceased and he strode to her side of the bed.
He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, kissed her forehead and carried her into the bathroom.
Bronte nuzzled his collar bone, determined to enjoy a moment that was quite unique in her experience.
With care, he stood her in the bath.
A move that brought her eyes level with his.
He cupped her face between his hands and studied her with an intensity that made her shiver.
How did he do that?
"Are you okay?" She nodded but he didn't appear convinced. "Do you have nightmares often?"
Bronte cleared her throat as his grey eyes scanned her features.
"I haven't had it for months."
He frowned. "Are they always the same?"
Her pulse fluttered.
"Yes." She shivered.
"Lie down. You are chilled, cara. I will use the shower."
Warm water, scented with jasmine, eased out aching muscles.
Bronte didn't want to think of her ex-fianc? at such a time, feeling it was unfair to Nico. But in the years of intimacy she'd shared with Jonathan, she'd never experienced anything like the sex she'd shared with Nico. The man was an amazingly generous lover and how lucky was she? Not that she was keeping count, much, but she'd come three times. Wow, she'd never known it was even possible. And weren't men supposed to need time to recover? Someone obviously hadn't told Nico.
Drowsily, she kept an eye on him through the opaque glass of her walk-in shower. He was quick, efficient and exited with a white towel slung low on his hips. He towel dried his hair, and then ran his fingers through it. The easy intimacy, the sheer domesticity of the moment, caught her throat.
She found herself wishing if only and told herself to behave and live in the moment.
Those dark eyes cruised possessively over her face and her body.
Saliva dried in her mouth. Her breasts, bobbing among creamy bubbles, tightened and her nipples hardened into rosy bullets.
Nico's sharp eyes missed nothing. He gave her that slow, sexy smile, revealing those adorable dimples and Bronte knew she was toast.
He crouched beside her. His fingertip stroked her breast rubbing a nipple. She couldn't help it, she pulled back.
He frowned. Those eyes sharp as a blade stared into hers.
"You have beautiful breasts."
With the horrible nightmare still jerking her chain and Jonathan's voice telling her she was built like a boy, Bronte gave a tiny shrug.
"They're only breasts. I'm not defined by them."
Those slashing brows flew into his hairline.
"Of course you are not defined by them." He frowned. "I hope you are not thinking about implants?"
"I've, er, thought about it." Her teeth bit her bottom lip and she couldn't look him in the eye.
"You are not happy with your breasts?"
"I don't think about them."
He grinned. But his eyes remained sharp on hers.
"I have no complaints about any part of you, cara. Would you like me to wash you? I am very thorough." That accent, intimate and terribly erotic, had her catch her breath.
She eyed him. "I bet you are. No thank you, I can manage."
Nico grinned and captured her mouth, exploring it thoroughly with his. Gentle but passionate, it was a kiss full of promise of good things to come.
His forehead touched hers.
"Do not fall asleep in the bath you still look drowsy. I will make coffee."
Mr Bossy was back and Bronte found she didn't give a damn.
"That would be nice." She sank into the water until bubbles reached her chin.
He rose, the hunger in his gaze evident.
Nico growled in his throat as he left making her smile.
Bronte replayed the amazing events of the day and knew Sundays would never be quite the same again.