Nico shifted, uncomfortably aware of the lack of dirty deeds. We’re in Iowa.
I heard they’re extra dirty there.
All you think about is getting laid.
Sounds like someone’s not getting any. Sucker.
That pissed him off. Fuck you.
Ha. Mom rented you a tux. Vince says you'd better be at his bachelor party.
Nico didn’t reply. He wanted to hook up with Lily for as many nights as possible. And, of course, the whole point of the trip was the car. He shoved a hand in his hair. What was he doing? Wandering through Iowa, not getting any tail, letting his brother down.
He texted back. I’ll be there. The bachelor party was two nights before the wedding. He’d cut the trip short, put in a lot of miles.
But then he looked up, and Lily was heading straight toward him, a big smile lighting up her face, her curvy hips mesmerizing him with their sway.
Maybe, he quickly added to the text.
“Come see these Victorian boot shakers,” she said, and he followed without any protest at all.
Shit. He was in trouble.
~ ~ ~
Once they arrived in Omaha after a lovely three-hour trip to the salt and pepper shaker museum, Lily took them to Little Italy because she really, really needed to see the fifteen-foot-tall metal fork with pasta. It stood straight up like it had grown out of the sidewalk.
Nico got into that one, posing with it and pretending to eat pasta.
“See, this is good stuff we’re seeing on the road,” she said.
“Go stand next to it. I want your picture.”
She did and pretended to be pulling the fork out of the ground with superhuman strength.
“Now stick your tongue out like you’re about to slurp it up,” he said.
“That would be more like this,” she said, pursing her lips together and pretending to slurp.
He groaned and snapped the picture. “Lil, let’s go check in at the hotel. Please.”
“We’re in Little Italy. Let’s eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to be. We had lunch ages ago.”
He took her hand. “We’ll get room service.”
“Come on.” She guided him down the street where they found a cute little place with dark wood tables and Tuscan landscape paintings on the walls. They ordered spaghetti and meatballs and shared garlic bread.
Nico was kind of tense. Gone were the charming smiles and good-natured banter. She was getting tense as a result. Of course she always got more tense the closer it came to hotel time. But they should be in Vegas in two days, where she was sure they’d both get drunk enough to hook up for a forgettable night without any awkwardness involved. Decision made, she smiled sweetly across the table at him.
His return look was so heated it made her squirm. He had no idea what he was getting with her. He’d have to think of a hotter past lover and the thought of that made her burn with humiliation.
By the time they got back to the hotel, she had her excuse ready. She emerged from the bathroom in a baggy V-neck T-shirt and sweatpants, glasses in place.
“Hey, bella,” he said, rolling off the bed, where he’d been lounging in boxer briefs as he liked to do every freaking night. Would it kill him to wear shorts? She couldn’t take the gorgeous Italian underwear model look every night without touching. If she knew for sure that she could touch him without him touching her back in certain mushy places, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
She snorted, uncomfortable with the Italian compliment that couldn’t possibly be true. She wasn’t beautiful. It was a line he probably used on every woman he met. He crossed to her, sliding his hand into her hair in that drugging way he had that always made her eyes close as his large hand managed to both cradle her head and somehow communicate possession before his lips met hers in a hard, demanding kiss. She allowed herself that small pleasure. He was an amazing kisser. Before long she was moaning in the back of her throat and rubbing herself shamelessly against his hard body. But when he took her hand and pulled her toward the bed, she dug her heels in.
“I have a rash,” she announced. There. No one in their right mind would want to catch a rash.
He raised a brow. “Where?”
She looked meaningfully down to her crotch.
He scowled. “You do not.”
She shook her head sadly. “I think I caught something from trying on those tight jeans in Chicago.”
“Lil, what is it? This right here—” he gestured to the bed “—was half the reason I agreed to the trip.”
“It was?”
“Yes! Two weeks. No strings. But now we’ve only got eleven nights left! What’s the problem?”
Her cheeks burned. This was so embarrassing. Why did he keep wanting to talk about it? She could never tell him her weird fear of not measuring up. This was just getting more and more awkward the more nights they spent not sleeping together. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be smooth, lusty fun. She wrung her hands together.
“What?” he barked. “Tell me.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t heard him raise his voice before. He was usually so smooth and charming like nothing ever bothered him. Even when she’d nearly gotten them killed during her truck-driving lessons, he hadn’t lost his temper. But the fiery stare he was leveling her way was a little unnerving. “It’s nothing.”
He paced back and forth and finally stopped. “Then why do you keep turning me down?”
“I don’t. I’m just…” She blew out a breath. “What’s the rush? I’m sure it’ll happen by Vegas. I’ll have too much to drink. You’ll have too much to drink. We’ll crash in bed in the dark and not remember a thing in the morning.” She held up a finger. “Something to look forward to!”
He studied her for a moment. “Is that what you really want?”
She lifted one shoulder up and down. She looked at her feet. “I’m a virgin.” She felt like one, anyway. Being with John had been such a quick, in the dark kind of thing. She’d hardly done anything before it was over.
He was silent. She risked a look at him. His expression said concerned with a little pity thrown her way. “Really?” he asked.
“Kinda.”
“Kinda?” He slammed his hands on his hips. “How’re you kinda a virgin?”
“Fine, there’s no kinda about it. I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin!” She bit her lip and looked away. Guilt over the lie pricked at her conscience. But there was no way she could tell him the truth. That her past lover had to think of someone else just to sleep with her. That she was Godzilla in bed.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked.
She met his eyes, knowing she was a terrible liar, and blurted, “They called me Slutty Spencer in high school.”
“Fine!” he barked. “Don’t tell me. We’ll just wait until Vegas for your drunken night.” He turned and headed past her to the bathroom.
“In the dark,” she reminded him.
He stopped and slowly turned around. “That part important to you?”
She shrugged. He headed for the light switch and turned the light off. She fumbled in the dark for the switch on the other side of the room and whacked her knee on the dresser, but she did it. She turned the light on while she stood way on the other side of the room.
“I can’t figure you out at all,” he said.
“I’m a mystery wrapped in an enigma.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re something. Do you want me to get a separate room?”
Her eyes widened. It would be much more difficult to get over her nerves if she had to actually go knock on his door. “No.”
He shoved both hands in his hair, and then smoothed it back. “So is our deal off? The no-strings fling?”
“Let’s just wait for Vegas. Okay?”
He groaned and headed for the bathroom. He really liked to relax with a shower at the end of the day. And one in the morning too. She had to give h
im points for good hygiene.
Chapter Ten
It was seven and a half hours to Denver, and Nico considered driving straight through to Vegas. He couldn’t, of course. It was another eleven hours from Denver to Vegas and it wasn’t safe to skip sleep, but damn, he really needed Vegas to happen as soon as possible. For some reason, Lily wanted them to have a drunken tumble. Hell, if it helped her nerves, he’d let her have a few drinks, but he wouldn’t be drunk. He wanted to remember every moment of their night together. He’d spent half the night listening to her breathe through those soft plump lips. That bow at the top drove him crazy. Those breasts that he knew would fill his hands, full and soft. They were real too, he’d seen the fake kind plenty. And all that soft kissable skin. The woman smelled like cherries all the time, it was her lipstick or shampoo or something. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted to lick every inch of her.
He took a shuddering breath and risked a glance over at her sitting on the passenger side of the truck. She was drifting off again to the sound of the bar exam review. He wasn’t surprised. That review course could put anyone to sleep. He had to learn patience with her. Just because she’d said he was smoking hot and that she’d sleep with him didn’t mean she was just going to jump in the sack. He hadn’t had to go slow in so long that he was screwing it up. He was pushing her too much. With Lily a kiss didn’t mean straight to bed.
He didn’t wake her for lunch. Just ate one of the two granola bars he’d bought at the hotel gift shop this morning. He’d gotten into the habit of working out for an hour before Lily woke, needing to work through the tension of yet another night of being close to her, but not touching. He spent way too much time thinking about her at night. All of her different expressions, whether she was smiling or worried or, as he was starting to pick up on, her guilty, lying face. He couldn’t believe the whoppers she came out with. At least she was a terrible liar. A rash from trying on jeans. Please.
He also thought a lot about the way she really got a kick out of the simple things in life, despite having grown up in a wealthy family. You just couldn’t fake that enthusiasm over a giant spaghetti fork in the middle of Omaha, or those salt and pepper shakers that were tacky at best, hideous at worst. They’d spent more than three hours in that salt and pepper shaker museum, and when they came out, she was beaming and chattering away about all the “adorable” shakers she’d seen. He hoped she didn’t have any plans for starting her own collection. He liked the minimalist look at home.
Wait, they weren’t living together. Being on the road created a strange intimacy between them—sharing a room at night, sharing the small confines of the truck cab all day. Even if they weren’t talking, he was hyperaware of her. Every breath, every sigh, every shift of her body. Her scent, cherry and fresh soap and sweet Lily. The way her cheeks colored bright pink when she was embarrassed or just excited. Her voice was sultry at times, other times more like a song. The way she twirled her silky red hair between her fingers when she was getting tired.
Oh, man, he had it bad.
He forced his mind away from Lily. He was looking forward to watching his brother Vince get shackled. Vince had once been a player with an impressive way of going from meet to sheets in a matter of an hour or two. He wondered if any of his brothers had advice for seducing a blushing virgin like Lily. He didn’t actually think she was a virgin, but from the way she reacted to his moves, which were normally extremely successful, she was damn close to one. Vince would say to wait for the signal and break the touch barrier as soon as possible. But he’d done that. He touched her all the time, holding hands, arm around the shoulder, kissing. She liked the kissing. He knew she did. She was hot and moaning in his arms. He got hard. Dammit. Stop thinking about Lily!
There was nothing around for miles, just road and more road, and she was right there, all curves and softness. Maybe he could toss a blanket in the back of the flatbed and take her there. No. She wanted a soft bed. She wanted a slowie.
He couldn’t go any slower. He’d die.
She sighed softly in her sleep and shifted to her side. Luke would tell him to smooth talk her. Nico wasn’t great with words. He depended on a killer smile and a few well-chosen lines. Most women liked being called bella, beautiful in Italian. Usually he’d joke around with them a bit. Nothing he usually did worked with Lily. Sure, she liked joking around, but it never led to where he wanted it to go. She had some kind of hang-up. It wasn’t him. He could feel the chemistry between them, which seemed to grow every time he kissed her. Even when she was pulling away, he sensed she wanted to go for it. She was conflicted, which made him conflicted.
That was it. Tonight he’d get to the bottom of whatever it was that was stopping her, reassure her, and then he could stop obsessing over her.
He drove for another half hour, stealing glances at her sleeping. She looked like a sexy angel. He reconsidered his earlier decision to cut the trip short and make it back in time for Vince’s bachelor party. He needed a little more time with her. What was he going to see there anyway, some stripper? All he wanted to see was Lily. Her skin was like the pale pink of a rose, soft like a petal—
Shut up. He needed to get his man card back. Since when did he get so poetic? She was making him crazy.
She sat up suddenly, pulling the headphones off. “Did I miss lunch?”
He handed her a granola bar.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” They were five hours to Denver, and he couldn’t wait. He had to get her naked ASAP, so he could stop being a damn swooning poet, pining at her feet.
“Are you putting me on a diet?” she asked.
“No.” He knew the right answer to that one. Women were damn touchy about their weight. Besides, she didn’t need to lose weight. She was perfect.
“Then why didn’t you stop for lunch?”
“We really need to get to Denver. We’ll have an early dinner.”
She tore the wrapper off the granola bar and took a bite. A moment later, she said, “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”
“At least now you’ll be awake tonight.”
“Why would I want to be awake at night?”
“There are reasons.”
“Like what?” she asked in a hostile tone. “Oh. Never mind.”
“Yeah.”
“I could really use some tequila tonight.”
“You really need alcohol to sleep with me?”
She went back to her granola bar, color in her cheeks high. He’d get to the bottom of this if it killed him. But not now. Once he was kissing her. It was a more natural time to ease her into the subject.
“No tequila,” he said.
“You’re not as much fun as I thought you’d be,” she pouted.
The remark stung. Everyone said he was fun. He was always joking around, having a good time. Lily had made him cranky, and there was only one solution.
“I’ll be more fun tonight,” he said.
“Can’t wait,” she muttered.
He bit back what he felt like yelling. He never got mad, never liked to fight. He and his ex had spent half their marriage yelling at each other, and he’d hated it.
“Ooh, Nico, I almost forgot. Colorado has beer can folk art. We could—”
“No.”
“But it’s only about—”
“We will not be stopping for any reason.”
A moment passed in silence.
“I need the restroom,” she said.
“You do not. You’re trying to delay. You can hold it.”
“I really can’t. Stop at the next rest area. Maybe they’ll have some salt and pepper shakers there!”
“You’re not starting a collection, are you?”
“I’m going to send it to that museum in Traer. It’s my new quest to help them be the world’s largest collection. You know, instead of the second largest. Sounds a lot better, doesn’t it?"
He sighed inwardly. It was a nice sentiment, but he didn't wan
t to spend the rest of their trip stopping all over the place for salt and pepper shakers.
"Ooh, look!" she exclaimed. "That billboard says they have skydiving nearby. Let’s stop.”
"Skydiving? From the woman who was terrified of the Ferris wheel?"
"I was not terrified. I was brave. You said I had courage. I'm trying to face my fears. Besides, the sign said you go in tandem with an instructor."
"So that cancels out free-falling thousands of feet?"
"Of course! The instructor doesn't want to die. They wouldn't take the job if it was dangerous."
"We're not going skydiving."
"Have you ever been?"
"No." His brother Jared had many times. He was the adrenaline junkie, not Nico.
"C'mon, it’ll be fun. And I'll never be scared of heights again after that. It’s like my Mount Everest."
He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Lil."
"Please, Nico. After this trip, I'll be cramming for the bar exam and then I'll be chained to a desk and I'll never have any fun again."
He considered that. He wanted her to have good memories of their trip. The best two-week vacation/fling of her life. All because of him.
“It is something you’d never forget,” he said.
“Absolutely!”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
"Okay, we'll go skydiving."
"Woo-hoo!" She beamed at him and squeezed his bicep, which made him feel all gooey inside.
Hell, he’d give her anything she wanted.
Anything but his heart.
~ ~ ~
Lily sat through a forty-five-minute training video and detailed instructions from the crew that ran the skydiving company with something approaching dread. What did it say about her that she’d rather fling herself out of an airplane than rush to get naked in a hotel room with the sexiest man on the planet?
Nico seemed tense, so she kept giving him the thumbs-up sign with a smile. He returned the smile with something approaching a grimace. That was fine if he was nervous about skydiving too. This experience would bond them together. She’d never forget the time she leaped to her death to avoid sex.
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