Nikko’s chest tightened at the affection. He wasn’t worthy of this man’s grace. It was hard to sit here and accept it, made all the more painful by the knowledge that this was the closest thing Nikko was ever going to have to a father. Shame swept over him, closely accompanied by its relative, guilt. He hadn’t had a chance to speak with Coach in private since the “incident,” and now that they were here, the words seemed to stick in his throat.
Nikko cleared it, hoping to break the apology free. What could he say? There was no excuse for the way he acted, for what happened—none. How could he ask forgiveness from this man when he couldn’t even forgive himself? But he had to say something . . . “Um . . . Coach . . .” Nikko took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair and tried again. “You don’t know how sorry I am about what happened.”
“Yes, I do. Or else you wouldn’t be here. Did I ever tell you I served in ’Nam?”
Nikko turned his head to look at the man sitting beside him. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yep. Miserable fucking war . . . Saw a lot of good men die—men better than me. You’re not human if that shit doesn’t mess you up.”
“You ever responsible for killing your platoon?”
Surprise briefly registered on Coach’s face before he could shield it. Nikko wasn’t sure what possessed him to say that, but there he was, the confession hovering between them as they sat there, neither of them saying a word, neither one willing to be the first to look away during this game of emotional chicken. Fuck it . . .
“Then you don’t know . . .” Nikko grumbled, rising to his feet as the front door swung open.
“Del Toro, you’re here early . . .”
Nikko shot Easton a scowl. What was it with these guys? Matthews was the asshole always sliding in here sideways, not him. Whatever . . . Nikko shook his head and shoved his hands into his open-mitt gloves, attaching the Velcro at the wrists. As he walked up the steps and entered the cage, he barked over his shoulder, “All right, Tommy. You ready to do this?”
Where are you taking me, Nikko?”
His brow arched in amusement and he glanced over at Vi before turning his attention back to the road. She tried to ignore the nervous energy fluttering in her stomach, but she was failing miserably. She’d been having breakfast with Pen when she’d gotten a text from him telling her he was sorry and that he was an ass. Both things she already knew, but that didn’t stop what was blooming in her heart for this complicated, enigmatic man. He said he was picking her up at five and to be ready. Be ready for what? His winky-face emoji told her he had something in the works.
No relationship was easy, but being in one with Nikko was uniquely challenging. She’d known it would be when she’d signed up for this, but Vi believed with all her heart that Nikko was worth the investment. She saw his potential; he was her diamond in the rough. Were she not in the profession she was, she’d be incapable of truly understanding him and would have given up on the fighter a long time ago. But she knew deep down she could help him, not in the way a naïve, starry-eyed girl fantasizes about fixing the broken bad boy, but truly help him.
“You really don’t like surprises, do you?” he asked, shooting her a playful grin.
“No, I hate them. Always have. Even when I was a kid, I’d sneak downstairs at night and carefully unwrap my Christmas presents and then wrap them back up again.”
He chuckled, the rich baritone like audible foreplay. Was it too late to turn around?—because she wouldn’t mind having this guy for supper instead of wherever he was taking her. They’d been on the road for forty-five minutes and were starting to enter the desert. She had no idea where he could possibly be going.
“I can’t believe you used to snoop in your presents. That’s just . . . sad.”
“No, it’s not. Not if you hate surprises.”
“Okay, do you really want me to tell you where we’re going?”
“Yes, please . . .”
“We’re having supper at my sister’s.”
“What? You’re bringing me home to meet your family?”
This time when he glanced at her, he didn’t look quite so confident. “Was this a bad idea? Is it too soon? Honestly, Clover, I’m winging it here. I know you want more from me, that you want me to open up and share my life with you, and I swear to God I’m trying . . . But you’ve gotta understand, I’ve never done this before.”
“Never done what before?”
“Any of this.”
What? “Surely, you’ve dated . . .”
“No, I haven’t. Violet, I’ve pretty much been in Afghanistan for twelve years.”
Holy shit . . . “But you’ve been home for two. You haven’t dated anyone since you got back?”
“Haven’t met anyone I was interested in—before now.”
Nikko’s confession rendered her momentarily speechless. He misinterpreted her silence for rejection. “You don’t want to do this, do you? I’ll call Val and tell her something came up.”
“No, Nikko, wait.” She reached over and grabbed his forearm. Mercy, the man was like a flesh-covered rock. “I want to go. I’m really honored you want me to meet your family. I umm . . . It’s just . . . a heads-up might have been nice, is all. I would have chosen a dress that showed less boob for starters.”
Nikko’s eyes dropped to her breasts, her nipples hardening beneath his searing stare. He must have noticed as well, because the heat in his eyes was like a freaking inferno. “I like the dress.”
The huskiness in his voice heated her flesh. “I’m glad you do. I wore it for you. It’s just not a take-me-home-to-meet-your-mother sort of outfit. I’d at least like to be wearing a bra the first time I meet your family. And panties might be nice . . .” Now that got his attention.
“What?” His head whipped from the road to Vi so fast, it was a miracle he didn’t snap his neck. She busted out laughing at the shocked look on Nikko’s face. “You’re kidding me, right? Clover, tell me you’re not going commando under that dress.”
“I don’t know . . . Now you’re going to have to spend the night wondering,” she teased.
Nikko muttered a curse under his breath and scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He turned his eyes back on the road and laid his hand on her knee just below the skirt’s hemline. She let out a startled squeak when he slipped it beneath her dress and rode his calloused palm up the inside of her thigh. Vi jumped and grabbed Nikko’s wrist, stopping his pursuit just short of the border. “Hey, that’s cheating,” she cried between fits of laughter. “You gotta play fair.”
“Fair? You call making me so hard my dick’s about to snap fair? How in the hell am I going to hide this hard-on all night?”
He wasn’t laughing, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Served him right. He deserved a little punishment for laying the family bomb on her. She was thrilled he wanted her to meet his family, touched beyond words that he was making an effort to open up to her, but a guy might have given a girl a heads-up before letting her leave the house in a backless, spaghetti-strap scarf dress—commando.
Before Vi could think on it anymore, Nikko took a hard right, and they were suddenly off-roading it in a car that was not designed for all terrain. “What are you doing?” she squeaked, reaching up to grab the oh-shit bar above her head. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw nothing but a cloud of dust and sand billowing out behind them. He braked as he cranked the wheel, putting them into a three-sixty. He came to a stop and shifted the Challenger into Park before cutting the engine. They were engulfed by a privacy screen of red dust.
“Nikko, what are you—”
He released both their seat belts and slid his seat back before grabbing her by the waist and plucking her onto his lap. Her protest died as Nikko’s mouth crashed against hers. One hand dove into her hair to hold her in place as his other slipped beneath her dress. When his fingertips parted the sensitive folds of her flesh, he grunted, a satisfied masculine rumble in his throat. “I fucking knew it . . .�
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“You’re a cheater,” she scolded playfully between kisses.
His mouth moved to her throat, and he nipped the sensitive spot below her ear and growled, “I never play by the rules, Clover. You should know that by now.”
Maybe that was why she’d baited him. Nikko slipped a finger deep inside her as his tongue plundered her mouth, and they both groaned with pleasure.
“Slide your straps down,” he commanded.
Vi slipped the thin straps off her shoulders, the willowy material falling off her breasts, bearing them to Nikko’s searing gaze. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he praised.
She bit her lip to keep from protesting when his hand slipped from between her legs. Gathering a breast in each of his hands, he adoringly squeezed and kneaded her generous swells. Nikko dipped his head, and a current of energy ran from her turgid peak right between her thighs. Vi gasped at the pleasure, her core clenching when he sucked hard, Nikko’s tongue trapping her nipple against his teeth. She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to have him—now. As he teased her other breast, her hands slipped between them, fumbling to free his cock from his jeans. She wasn’t the only one going commando.
When her hand fisted around his shaft, she stroked him a few times, reveling in the sheer size of him—the softest flesh covering the hardest steel. Rising up, she positioned him between her thighs and lowered herself as he thrust up, stretching her, filling her. Her breath caught in a strangled gasp as both pain and pleasure shot through her core.
Nikko lifted his head, eyes more sapphire now than silver searching hers, and she swore he could see into her soul. “You all right?”
All right? She was better than all right. Never before had a man filled her so completely, or touched her so deeply, or consumed her more fully . . . But she couldn’t tell him that, afraid if she spoke he’d hear the emotion in her voice and know what she was just now discovering for herself. I’m falling in love with Nikko Del Toro . . .
Something flashed in her eyes that rocked Nikko to his very soul—a connection both physical and emotional that shifted his entire world. Could she . . . love him? At the thought, a dichotomy of emotions raged inside him, the pull to give her all of him warring with the fear of losing her if he did. She was his calm in the storm, his life raft in an unforgiving sea of torment—losing Violet to his demons would be his final undoing. He needed to figure out a way to protect her from his past while ensuring their future, because the thought of not having her in it just about crushed him.
Framing her face with his hands, he searched those expressive eyes for any signs of regret, any hint that this was moving too fast for her, but all he saw staring back at him was love and acceptance. Damn if he wasn’t tempted to reach for it—to grasp this single thread of happiness and pray to God the demons didn’t unravel it.
“I’m good . . .” she assured him, proving it by grinding her hips against his.
The hot, wet squeeze of her glove obliterated his ability to string two coherent thoughts together. The pressure building in the base of his cock overruled any action beyond primal instinct. Nikko gripped her hips and lifted her, driving her back down his shaft. Her velvety sheath constricted with each thrust, the tightening in his balls a delicious pain as he outran his own release and chased down Clover’s. She was so close . . . her gorgeous violet eyes now half lidded and unfocused, her breaths short, broken pants as her nails bit into his shoulders.
“Nikko . . .”
Man, he loved the way she said his name, all broken and needy. As if he were the only man who could quench this fire burning inside her. He drove her faster—harder. She gripped him tighter . . . until her release pulled them both under. The first spasm of her core ripped Nikko’s orgasm from him in a violent pulse. A guttural curse tore from his throat as endorphins flooded his system. Euphoric wave after wave crashed over him as he emptied himself inside the woman who’d stolen his heart.
“Uncle Nik, Uncle Nik!”
Two little girls in sundresses bounded out of the house and raced toward them. Nikko let go of Vi’s hand and squatted down as both girls crashed into him at the same time. When he stood, a child was filling each arm. She’d guess them no older than five and three—black-haired little angels; the youngest in braids, the oldest with a head of stick-straight silk. A smile tugged at Vi’s lips as she watched the girls shower the burly fighter with hugs and kisses.
“Who’s your friend?” the littlest one whispered, planting her small hands on Nikko’s cheeks and turning his head to face her, demanding his undivided attention.
“This is Violet.”
“She’s pretty . . .” she whispered, unaware her voice was anything but quiet.
“Yes, she is, isn’t she?”
“I like her eyes.”
“Me, too,” Nikko whispered just as loudly. “Do you want to meet her?”
She nodded with an infectious grin. These girls were positively adorable. The older one seemed the shyer of the two. She kept her face buried in Nikko’s neck and occasionally peeked at Vi through her fall of hair. Seeing this man with these gorgeous little girls made Vi’s core ache as her biological clock began ticking like a time bomb on crack. Nikko had made his stance on children clear early on—he didn’t want them. But what if . . . ?
He turned to face Vi with his two armfuls and said, “Violet, these are my nieces. This is Amelia”—he jostled the older one—“and this is Addy.” He bounced the little one and she giggled. “Girls, this is Violet.”
“Hi, Amelia, Addy. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“I like your eyes,” Addy blurted, her own mocha orbs staring at Vi with childlike fascination.
“Thank you. I like your braids,” Vi said, giving one a gentle tug.
“My mommy said we have to act our bestest in case you’re a keeper.”
Vi trapped her lips between her teeth to hold back the laughter threatening to burst out.
“Shush, Addy,” Amelia scolded, kicking her sister’s foot. “You’re not supposed to say that.”
Either Amelia was small for her age or older than her years. Addy scowled at her big sister and returned the kick. Nikko moved his arms wider, pulling the two girls apart just before the retaliation connected. He winced, shooting Vi an apologetic grimace just as a beautiful raven-haired woman stepped onto the porch and yelled, “That’s enough, girls. Go wash up. Supper’s almost done.” Nikko set Amelia and Addy on their feet, and they both took off like a shot, racing toward the house. “Sorry, Nik,” the woman called with a wave, ushering her little rascals inside.
Vi took a moment to push back her nerves and rally her courage as she glanced down at her dress, making sure it was hanging straight and everything was properly covered. It’s going to be okay. You can do this, she told herself.
Nikko must have noticed her mounting anxiety, because he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Nervous?”
Vi nodded. It was no use trying to hide it. “What if your family thinks I’m not a keeper?” she asked half joking, half serious.
Nikko chuckled, pulling her into his side and planting a quick kiss on her lips. “Don’t worry, Clover. They’re going to love you as much as I do.”
Wait. What?
Vi’s heart leapt into her throat, hammering against her trachea. Did Nikko Del Toro just tell her he loved her?—or was this one of those blithe, placating responses you give to someone when you don’t want them to worry?
Before she could respond, the front door opened and there stood a woman she could only assume was Nikko’s mother. Except for the eyes, she looked nothing like her son. Nikko must have gotten his size and olive coloring from his father, because this woman was petite and fair—and startlingly beautiful.
“Nik,” she greeted warmly, stepping out onto the porch and opening her arms for a motherly hug.
He stepped away from Vi and dutifully moved into his mother’s embrace.
“I missed seeing you a few weeks ago. I’m glad you were able
to come for supper tonight.” Rising on her tiptoes, she grabbed his face and pulled him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Now introduce me to this beautiful young woman.”
Nikko stepped aside, making room for Vi to join them on the porch. “Mom, this is Violet Summers. Violet, this is my mother, Carmella.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Del Toro.”
Violet held out her hand, and the woman grasped it without hesitation, pulling her in for a hug. “Please, call me Carmella. We’re pretty informal here.”
Vi instantly liked the woman. Her warm, affectionate air helped put Violet at ease. It pleased her to discover Nikko had a support system like this in his life—a place to call home. So many people didn’t. They followed his mother into the living room, and Vi tried to ignore the sizzle of awareness that rushed through her when Nikko’s hand came to rest on the small of her back. The sheer scarf material did nothing to barrier the heat of his intimately possessive touch.
“I hope you like paella,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s one of Nikko’s favorite dishes.”
“I’m sure it will be wonderful,” Vi replied as she headed toward the kitchen.
“What’s paella?” she whispered.
“It’s a Spanish dish with seafood and vegetables cooked over yellow rice. I told you my father was from Spain, didn’t I?”
“I don’t think you did, but I wondered with the last name Del Toro.”
“My mother always cooks Spanish dishes in honor of him whenever we get together.”
She took his hand and linked their fingers, giving it a squeeze. “That’s really sweet. I’ve never had authentic Spanish cooking before. I’m looking forward to trying it.”
Taking advantage of their privacy, Nikko pulled her into his arms and dipped his head, whispering against her lips, “If you wanted to taste something Spanish, I’d have been more than happy to help you out.”
She gasped, feigning shock at his inappropriate offer, and he chuckled, brushing his mouth against hers. “How selfless of you to extend such a gracious offer,” she teased.
Fighting for Control (Against the Cage Book 3) Page 25