Page 126 of Locked in Wonderland

Nico gave me a long look. “You’re fishing for compliments.”

“Maybe.”

“You already know my dick likes you.”

“Just your dick?”

He turned my head to one side, his clean-up job becoming noticeably less gentle. Apparently, that was my punishment for pressing the issue. I should have let it go. Instead, I found myself smiling. Maybe it was the relief of having escaped. Or maybe it was the knowledge that he’d just given up everything to get me out. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t ready to drop it. “You won’t burst into flames if you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you like me. The evidence is all there.”

“What evidence?”

“Loads of evidence.” I started counting them off. “You tried to stop me coming to Wonderland before you knew anything about me. You marked me so no one else could touch me. You rescued me from the slave auction. Then you rescued me from Kellan.”

Nico turned my head back to center, studying me critically. “That looks better.”

“Yeah?”

Rather than answer, he nudged me toward the mirror. He was right. There wasn’t much that could be done about the bruising or the cut, but at least I no longer looked as though someone had run me through a meat grinder.

He pulled the plug, sending the pink water swirling down the drain. Evidently, my argument wasn’t getting a response. “I get it,” I said.

Nico studied his reflection in the mirror. He looked as perfect as ever, not a single hair out of place. “Get what?”

“It was dog-eat-dog in Wonderland. You couldn’t afford to show weakness.”

One eyebrow lifted. “Weakness?”

“Wrong word.” What was I trying to say? “Not weakness. Vulnerability. Having feelings. You had to be careful what you did.”

Nico laughed quietly. “I could do whatever I wanted. It was a perk of being so close to the Harts.” He shrugged. “I just didn’t want the same things Kellan did.”

I leaned back against the wall, exhaustion finally catching up with me. A sixth sense had me opening my eyes less than a minute later to find Nico’s face only inches from mine. I leaned in for the kiss first, Nico moving back before our lips could touch. “Bastard,” I complained.

His hand slid into my hair. The touch was as gentle as when he’d washed my face. Gentler still was the thumb that brushed across the bruise on my cheek. We’d had sex more times than I could count, yet I’d never seen this side of him. Even the way he looked at me had changed. There was a softness there that stole my breath.

“Do you still think about Victor?” he asked.

“No.” The answer came easily. “Victor was nothing but a puppet master. I had feelings for someone who never existed.”

Nico nodded once. Then and only then, as if I’d passed some sort of test, did he kiss me.

It differed from every kiss we’d shared before.

Slower.

Softer.

More curious.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling us chest to chest, groin to groin. There was still so much I didn’t know about Nico Ravenscar, but I was looking forward to discovering it. I tilted my head, inviting him deeper, and he accepted without hesitation.

His tongue brushed mine as my fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, unwilling to sacrifice the kiss for the sake of coordination. Hell, I’d yank them off if I needed to. It might be the only shirt he owned, but that was his problem. When one button came free, I moaned my triumph into his mouth.

So much better than Warren, my subconscious purred.