By the time the water sluiced the soap off her body, she was humming for him again, begging for more of his touch. She thought he might take her then, but instead he turned off the water and stepped from the shower.
He wrapped a towel around his waist and returned with one for her. The towel was soft and thick, and he moved it gently across her arms and breasts, down her stomach and in the space between her thighs, behind her knees. When he was done with her body, he squeezed the excess water out of her hair.
She followed him into the bedroom and watched as he removed a shirt from the dresser. He slipped it over her arms and buttoned it while she stood perfectly still, her body coming alive like a tuning fork to lightning as his hands brushed against her belly.
He put on a fresh pair of black lounge pants. “Sit down,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”
She sat on the edge of the bed while he went into the bathroom. He returned with a hairbrush and positioned himself behind her where he began at the bottom, tenderly brushing the tangles from her hair. The storm seemed to be ripping the world part on the other side of the windows, but they didn’t speak. She lost track of time, relaxing into the gentle motion of the brush in her hair, Nico’s occasional touch on the top of her head, against her shoulder. She didn’t know what was between them, but she didn’t want to analyze it anymore. Not right now.
Finally, he set the brush aside. She felt the soft sweep of his breath as he dropped a kiss on her neck. Then he stood and took her hand, pulling her up off the bed.
“Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.”
26
He tried not to stare at her across the table, but it wasn’t easy. He’d thought possessing her physically would kill the emotional connection he had felt to her almost since the beginning. That’s how it usually worked. Instead their night together had only solidified it.
He’d sensed their loneliness merge along with their bodies, felt the same disconnection in her that existed in himself. Once she’d let go, she hadn’t been at all hesitant. It had been the opening of a floodgate, and she had been as hungry for him as he’d been for her. He had never wanted to possess someone so completely. Had never felt so totally the futility of the desire.
He sensed in her a deep goodness, a stubborn innocence in spite of everything that had happened. She was the only thing he’d never wanted to remake. The only thing he’d ever found perfect, just as it was. He knew instinctively that she wasn’t someone he would possess easily, but it only made him want her more.
“What?”
He blinked, realizing she’d caught him staring. “You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.”
She shook her head little. “This isn’t that kind of thing.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“This…” She looked at her empty plate. He’d made eggs and bacon and toast. “This thing between us. It’s not an emotional kind of thing. You don’t have to say nice things to me.”
“Are you speaking for yourself or for me?”
She shrugged. “Both.”
“Well, don’t,” he said. “I don’t know what this is yet, but I can assure you that it’s not nothing.”
“I don’t see how it can be anything more than that,” she said.
Her words fell like a stone between them, and the potential loss of her moved through him like a brushfire. He stood and walked toward her, then gently pulled her to her feet.
He tucked a piece of golden hair behind her ear. “I don’t have it figured out,” he said. “But I’m not going to make light of it while I have you.”
She seemed to hesitate, then nodded.
“Come on,” he said. “The rain seems to be letting up a little. Let’s go for a walk.”
They changed into warm clothes, and Nico dug out an extra pair of galoshes for Angel. It was strangely intimate, getting ready in the same room, dressing, watching her brush her teeth. He wanted to memorize her movements, the way she looked at herself in the mirror while she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, the line of her back when she bent to pull on the boots.
He gave her his biggest coat and pulled up the hood, looking into her eyes as he tied it around her face. Then he bent his head unable to resist tasting her lips. He swept them gently with his tongue, then pulled back, studying her face. She smiled a little, and he felt the corners of his mouth lift in response.
He took her hand and led her outside. The wind was still coming in strong off the water, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the night before, and the rain was noticeably less violent.
He led her away from the house, back the way they’d come from the boat the day before. The island had been his secret, and he suddenly wanted her to see it all.
They picked their way along the rocky shoreline, traveling away from the place where Ed had dropped them off. He hadn’t walked the perimeter of the island since he’d first bought it. He’d been alone then, pondering the merits of the place as it related to his need for privacy.
This was different, and he stopped to point out the meadow that stood beyond the beach on the west end of the island, the way the waves crashed against the breakers that jutted out into the ocean. There was a lighthouse barely visible on an adjacent island, and they stood atop one of the highest peaks, watching the light make a slow circle toward them again and again.
They were making their way back when thunder rocked the ground. A few seconds later, lightning tore through the sky, and Nico pulled Angel under a rocky outcropping.
“We should wait a few minutes,” he said.
She nodded.
Water dripped from her hood, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. A piece of hair had escaped from her ponytail. It hung in a loose curl, and he reached out, wrapping it around his finger. He was torn between wanting to feel her naked body against his—now—and wanting to protect her from anything and everything that might hurt her.
“What are you doing to me, Angel?” he murmured.
“Nothing,” she whispered.
He took her hand, pressing it against his chest, hoping she could feel his rapidly beating heart. “This isn’t nothing.” He moved her hand lower, pressing it against the erection already straining against his jeans. “And whatever you might think, this isn’t nothing either.”
Her lips parted at the contact, and he was surprised to feel her palm rub against the swollen flesh in his pants. She stepped closer, snaking her free arm around his neck, pulling his head to hers.
“I know.” She pressed her lips to his, slipping her tongue, hot and urgent inside his mouth.
He held her face in his hands, deepening their kiss, wanting all of her. Even here, even now. She met the thrusts of his tongue, pushing her body against his until he could feel the warmth of her even through the layers of their clothes. His cock responded, growing harder and more persistent. He could feel her now, could imagine sliding into her wetness, letting her heat milk him until he poured himself into her.
He pulled back. “Not here.” He was barely able to get out the words, but he wasn’t going to take her outside in the cold. Not Angel. Not like that. “It’s too cold.”
She reached up, slipping a hand into his hood and twining it into the hair at the back of his head. “Then take me to bed.”
He was riveted on her eyes, on the need there that matched his own. Finally, he took her hand and hurriedly headed for the house.
They stripped in the entryway, her fingers hurried and demanding on his clothes while he tried to undress her without removing his mouth from hers. When they were naked, she pulled him down on the staircase, her hands roaming his body, closing around his shaft until he drove into her, his tongue plundering her mouth.
She lifted her hips to meet him, her pussy hot and tight, panting as she grasped for the orgasm he could feel building at the center of her body.
“Do it, baby,” he urged her. “Come for me.”
The words seemed to send her over the edge, and she
cried out as she tumbled over the precipice. It set him off, releasing his last vestige of control. He let go, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her.
Later, they lay in the bath, candles flickering, the rain falling softly against the roof. Her head was tipped back against the tub, her eyes closed, and her long blond hair was swept away from her face in a loose bun. Some of the loose strands curled around her face.
He took her foot in his hand and rubbed, marveling at the softness of her skin, the delicate lift of her arch. “Tell me about your brother,” he said softly.
Her eyes snapped open, and she regarded him with the first hint of suspicion he’d seen since he’d taken her the night before.
“I just want to hear about something good in your life.” It stung to think that she was still afraid of him, but he couldn’t really blame her.
She seemed to relax. Her expression turned pensive as she started to speak.
“He’s the best person I know,” she said simply. “Just… good and decent. We were close, even before my mother died. Being sent to separate schools about killed me.”
Nico felt an irrational surge of jealousy. Not because Angel loved her brother. She deserved to love and be loved, and he was glad she had that in her life. But she would never talk about him like that. Never talk about how good and decent he was. He had made that impossible, and he suddenly found that he wanted nothing more than for Angel to think those things about him.
“Did you stay close?” he asked, lifting her other foot.
She nodded. “We talked on the phone, Skyped… But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive my father for separating us when we needed each other the most.”
“I can understand that.” It wasn’t easy to keep his voice calm. Carlo had sacrificed the happiness of his children for his own gain—either because he was too selfish to think about what was best for them or because he was so desperate to keep his secrets.
“What about you?” she asked. “Any siblings?”
“No, it’s just me.” He spoke carefully, not wanting to disrupt the seemingly normal conversation with any of the anger and bitterness he’d been carrying around since his parent’s death.
“Must be lonely,” she said softly.
He looked into her eyes across the tub. “I’ve never thought so until now.”
She held his gaze before looking around the luxurious bathroom. “Why did you chose this place? It’s so… isolated. ”
“I bought it on the suggestion of my father before he died. He thought I might need a place to escape.”
“And have you?” she asked.
“At various times for various reasons,” he said. “But never because I felt physically threatened.”
“Why do you feel threatened now?” she asked softly. “They were after me.”
He looked away. “There are things you don’t know.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Tell me,” she finally said.
“No.”
“Why?” she asked. “If what you say is true, I’m as involved in this as you. I deserve to know.”
He sighed. “I don’t dispute that, Angel. But I’m not going to be the one to hurt you if I can help it.”
“And telling me the things I don’t know will hurt me?”
“Yes,” he said.
He didn’t say the other thing; that she had already started to feel essential to him. He didn’t know what would happen to them when they were forced to rejoin the real world, but if he told her everything, she would hate him all over again, even if it was just because he was the messenger.
“If they’re out there, they have the power to hurt me anyway,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to know what I’m up against?”
The argument was valid, but it didn’t change anything. He stood, his body dripping. “I’m not discussing this with you, Angel.”
He stepped from the tub and headed for the bedroom. He was looking out over the storm-tossed beach when he felt her hands wrap around his waist, her naked body press to his back.
“I’m not sorry for asking,” she said. “I deserve to know.”
“You do,” he said hoarsely.
The stood in silence before she spoke again. “Let’s not talk about my father. I just want to be with you.”
He turned to face her. “Good.”
27
She was careful to avoid conversation about their families after the incident in the tub. It was a stupid kind of denial, but she didn’t have the energy to fight it. Something had shifted in the two days since they’d left New York. Maybe it was the way Nico took her, without inhibition, his need for her as raw and visible as an open wound. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her, like he would pluck the moon from the sky if she wanted it.
Or maybe she was just being stupid.
She didn’t know how to explain it, but she felt safe with him against all reason. More than that, she felt a connection to him she couldn’t explain. She tried telling herself it was just sex. She’d never been claimed so completely, never lost control of herself like she did in Nico’s arms. He did more than take her—he occupied her, took up residence under her skin. When his hands were on her, there was nothing but the two of them. Nothing but Nico’s mouth and hands, his hardness sliding exquisitely inside her. There was nothing but light then. For the first time that she could remember, there was light.
Whatever it was, she felt sick at the thought of losing it, and she blocked out the past and the future, determined to live in the moment with Nico, whatever waited for them on the other side of it.
She sat on the counter in his shirt and let him feed her succulent pieces of fish and tender fingerling potatoes while he cooked. He dipped her fingers in the cream sauce simmering on the stove, then put them in his mouth, sucking until she was wet for him all over again. They listened to music while he worked, talking about their childhoods and their adolescence, steering clear of anything that would take them too close to the forbidden territory of Angel’s father.
They sat close at dinner. Nico touched her wrist, his bare feet next to hers under the table. She thrilled with every stroke of his skin, had to resist the urge to touch her lips to his, strip off his shirt, run her hands over his perfectly sculpted body.
They loaded the dishwasher, then moved to the couch where Angel sat cradled between his denim-clad legs. His chest was solid against her back, and she leaned into him, resting her head in the space between his collarbone and chest. He stroked her hair while he told her about his parents, about the business he’d remade after their death. She wanted to ask him details; did he hurt people? Kill them? Somehow she couldn’t imagine it, despite the power he emanated. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t know what waited for them beyond the sanctity of the island, but tonight belonged to them.
The candles were flickering low in their holders when the lights over the dining room table flickered on. Angel looked up silently, fighting the despair that unwound in her body. How much longer would they be able to justify staying here now that the storm was coming to an end?
Nico kissed the top of her head. “I need to see if the phones are back up.”
She leaned forward so he could get out, then sat back, watching him prowl to the phone on the kitchen island.
He picked up the receiver. “It’s working.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“I’m going to make a quick call,” he said. “Sit tight.”
He turned off the dining room light before heading for a closed door off the living room. She tried to make out his end of the conversation through the half-open door, but he spoke quietly, raising his voice only once; “I’m not taking her anywhere until I know it’s safe.”
It went quiet again in the moments before he came back into the room, still holding the phone. He leaned in the doorway, watching her.
“Everything okay?” she asked softly.
His eyes darkened. “It is
now.”
She smiled a little.
“We have to go back tomorrow.” Regret shaded his voice.
“I know.” She held out a hand for him. “Come here.”
He set the phone on the mantel and came toward her.
She pulled him down, stretching out against his body, fitting herself to him. He held her close, kissed her hair, his tenderness quickly turning to passion as her skin came alive under his fingers. He undressed her in front of the fireplace, sucking in his breath at the sight of her like he hadn’t already seen her without clothes at least five times. She knew the feeling. She was breathless in the face of his naked form, his chiseled body glowing in the firelight. They started slowly, drawing out their pleasure, but it wasn’t long before she guided him inside her, meeting his thrusts with her hips, urging him on with words, begging him to fuck her, to take her, to come with her. Wanted all of him, everywhere.
Hours later, they were still naked on the sofa. The flames had burned low in the grate, and the candles had long since burned out.
“We should go to bed,” Nico said,
“Hmmm….” Angel nestled into him, draping an arm across his chest.
He didn’t say anything at first, and she thought he might have fallen asleep.
“We’ll have to talk in the morning,” he finally said. “About everything.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes, listened to the muffled rhythm of his heartbeat. “But it’s not morning.”
He tightened his arms around her. “Fair enough.”
She let herself drift, carried on waves of containment and something too powerful to name. Tomorrow she would have to ask questions, and she would have to deal with the answers—and with Nico if he didn’t want to give them to her.
But not tonight.
28
She woke to the sun streaming in through the windows, the sound of rain strangely absent after two days of of torrential downpour. The waves rushed softly up the beach below the house, breaking more gently on the rocks than they had in the previous two days.
Ruthless: Mob Boss Book One Page 13