Pulls his fingers out of me completely and moves back just enough that we’re no longer touching.
I almost whimper at the loss. My body is screaming, aching, empty. I glare at him, chest heaving.
He meets my eyes, calm and controlled, while I’m falling apart in front of him.
“You were saying?” he murmurs.
I want to kill him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Eleonora
If I had a gun right now, I would shoot Nico.
The smug look on Nico’s face makes me want to scream. I was right there, teetering on the edge, so close I could almost taste it. and he just… stopped.
My body is still throbbing, aching, desperate. I’m furious and so turned on it hurts. I want to drag him back between my thighs and make him finish what he started. I want him so badly I can barely think.
And the bastard knows it.
I huff, trying to sound unaffected. “Everyone has left.”
“Yes,” he says calmly.
I was too busy trying to come from his fingers inside me to realize we are now alone.
I swallow hard. “We should probably head back then.”
We both climb out of the pool, and I try to reach for my dress, his arm snakes around my waist and yanks me back against his chest.
“You look mad,” he murmurs against my ear.
I almost want to punch him. Of course, I’m mad. “Why would I be mad?”
“You tell me.” He turns me in his arms so I’m facing him. His hand comes up, gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I glare at him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “You look like you want to chop my head off.”
“If I had a knife, I probably would.”
A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Someone’s mad.” He leans in closer, lips grazing my ear. “Is it because I didn’t let you come?”
I roll my eyes and try to pull away, but he holds me tighter.
“You want to come, don’t you?” he whispers.
“I never said that.”
“Your body does,” he says, sliding his hand back between my thighs. “And your face does.”
Before I can argue, he seals his mouth over mine.
The kiss is hungry, demanding, nothing like the careful one from last night. He devours me, tongue stroking deep, claiming every gasp and whimper I make.
I hate how easily my body melts for him. I’m still aching from being denied, still soaked and sensitive, and every brush of his tongue sends sparks straight to my core.
