He claims my mouth with his. His tongue plunges deep, tangling with my own, searching like he’s trying to taste every inch of me. I can feel his heart hammering against his ribs where our chests are pressed together.
He rolls over me fully and props onto both elbows so he can hold my face in both hands. We’re all teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. I can’t get close enough. Can’t get enough of the taste of him, or the feeling of his hands in my hair. He kisses me with a hunger I’ve never experienced before, like I’m the only thing that can stop him from starving, like he wants me as much as I want him. I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I stop touching him for even one second.
Nico pulls away, dropping his forehead against mine.
“I…” His voice comes out rough. “Just need a second.”
I don’t push. My hand rests against his chest as I catch my breath, feeling his heart thump against my palm. Billy took everything from him, even this.
I slowly realize that he’s never had a single good memory of this. He’s never gotten to choose this for himself, never got to have a kiss that was actually his. Only violence and fear, and Billy’s hands on girls who didn’t want him. But I want him, and I’m going to make sure he knows it. I’m going to give him so many good memories that the bad ones don’t stand a chance.
I bring his hand up to my lips, pressing a kiss to the inside of his palm.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I kiss the top of his hand, all languid and long, then grin up at him. “Enjoying.”
One more to the bridge of his nose, and on the scar running up his temple. Nico shudders.
“I can’t believe I get to touch you.” I nip at his earlobe, and he tenses under me. “It feels like a dream. I’ve been obsessedwith you since you smiled at me in that parking lot and made me forget how to form sentences.”
“You weren’t obsessed with me,” Nico says. “You punched me in the face.”
“But then I saw you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen,” I say. “I felt kind of bad for punching you then.”
“Because you don’t punch hot people?”
“Because,” I say, laughing, “I didn’t think I’d get a chance with you if I was the girl who punched you in the face.”
He laughs, all rough and surprised like he wasn’t expecting to have found something funny. I make a silent promise to myself that I’m going to make him laugh so many times that he stops ever being surprised at his own laugh.
“Are you kidding?” he asks. “I was done for the second you swung at me.”
A tiny part of my brain is screaming that people don’t just say things like that to me, that I’m not the kind of person that someone like Nico goes for, but my brain can shut the hell up. I’m not going to let it take this from me.
His hands slide to my waist and he’s rolling us over again, lifting me until I’m lying on top of him.
“Much better,” he says, closing his eyes and pulling me back down to him.
His tongue sweeps against mine, and I’mdrowning, actually drowning in the taste of him. He’s sucking and biting and marking me, and the heat flooding my system is burning me alive. Good. Let me burn. Let me combust right here because at least I’ll go out feeling something other than empty.
Because this is the best kiss I’ve ever had. I’d thought nothing could ever top the kitchen, but in the kitchen, I kissed him without knowing if he wanted me back. Now I know, and that knowledge makes this a thousand times better.
As much as I don’t want to accept it, I know there is a possibility we won’t get much time. Given where we are, there may never be another opportunity for me to kiss Nico like this, and for the first time in my life, I really understand how strongly Elphaba must have felt when she swore to make every last moment with Fiyero last.
All the men I’ve been with kissed me like they were taking something, squeezing every drop of their own pleasure from me until they’d had enough, but Nico kisses with intention. I can tell he’s choosing every movement, just as he chooses every word, and he’s not taking anything from me at all. He kisses like he’s trying to remember me, exactly how I am, and if he’s slow enough, or pays close enough attention, then he can keep the kiss with him.
He pulls me closer until there’s no space left between us, until I can feel every line of his body pressed against mine. I arch my hips into him, and the air snags in my throat when I feel the hard length of him pushing into my hip bone.
I go limp and rigid all at once. I grind against him, and the friction makes him groan into my mouth. I pull his bottom lip between my teeth as my hand slides down his chest, lower and lower until my palm presses against his length through the fabric.
He tears his mouth away from mine with a sharp curse. “What are you?—”
I capture his words with my mouth, stroking him through the material. He pulses under my touch.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “I can’t—we can’t?—”
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”
