I grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.
Nico froze for half a second. Then his hands lifted, stopped short of my waist, and hovered there.
The restraint pulled at something under my breastbone.
I broke the kiss. “You can touch me.”
His voice dropped. “Tell me why, Nella.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t turn this into paperwork.”
“I’m not. I’m making sure.”
“Because I want you to,” I said. “Not because I owe you. Not because of the debt. Not because you helped carry limes while looking like a wet vacation mistake.”
His hands settled at my waist.
Warm. Solid. Careful.
“This changes nothing about the money,” he said.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t make me safe.”
“No.”
“It doesn’t make you mine.”
My fingers tightened in his shirt. “Careful.”
His blue eyes held mine. “I know. I needed to hear you say I’m here because you want me here.”
My breath caught.
I let go of his shirt and flattened both palms against his chest. His skin was warm through the open linen now, the damp mostly gone, and his muscles were tight under my hands.
“Before this goes anywhere,” I said, “I’m clean. I have an IUD. I don’t have condoms up here, and I’m not pretending to be a prepared woman when my morning involved produce, sharks, and emotional terrorism.”
His fingers flexed once at my waist. “I’m clean too. I haven’t been with anyone since my last test.”
“Good.”
“If you want to stop, we stop.”
“If I want to stop, you’ll know.”
“I need you to say it anyway.”
My throat went tight, and not from fear.
“If I say stop, you stop,” I said.
“Always.”
I kissed him again.
This time Nico kissed me back like the answer had broken something open in him.
