Page 100 of Made in Love and Blood

Nico pressed a kiss to her grinning lips, feeling her catching breaths before those kisses moved down. His mouth made the same beeline the rest of his body did, a desperation like he’d never known crawling up his spine.

The same way she’d leaned back and opened for him in the shower, unsure but so full of trusting anticipation, she widened for him now.

His lips and tongue found the spot where her inner thigh met her center. Then, alongside the soft ridge of her outer labia.

Her breath caught louder, harder. “I think you’re almost too good at this.”

He open-mouthed kissed her pussy, his tongue flattening along her folds to suck her in. Tart pleasure found him, so distinctly her.

“A benefit,” he said as he grazed her clit, “finally.”

He looked up to find her watching him. Her fingers pressed against her parted lips.

“You are something else.”

Nico opened his mouth to respond, but a banging downstairs stopped him. She didn’t hear it the first time, shooting him a hurt look when he immediately pulled away and got off the bed. The second knock, her head snapped toward the opened bedroom door while he’d already grabbed his boxer-briefs to hurriedly pull them on.

And the gun from his bag.

“Don’t move,” he told her, heading out of the room with a t-shirt as well. Nico stomped down the stairs as whatever nailed against the door continued to drum loudly. He got the black shirt over his head when his bare feet hit the bottom floor. He slipped the loaded and ready handgun behind his back as he came to the front door.

The first thing he planned to change in this house? The windowless entrance. He yanked open the door without warning, mid-bang, with a snarled, “Who the fuck wants to play a game with me tonight?”

Nico let that gun come out to his side, visible, when he saw who waited on the other side of the door.

Anthony Carcoli. Three duffle bags sat at the man’s feet.

Nico’s heart slammed against his ribcage and acid churned in his stomach. He hadn’t laid eyes on Carcoli in a hot minute, and it could have been a lot fucking longer as far as Nico cared. Staring at Anthony’s face brought up memories Nico would much rather forget.

“You.”

“Five million, plus ten percent to go along with the fact I showed up to make peace with you,” the man said. “That’s the apology.”

His black suit melted into the darkness around him.

The second thing Nico needed to change? The lack of lighting on his front door. Fuck.

“Nico?” came Frankie’s voice from behind him.

Carcoli’s dark eyes lit up at the voice, his brow furrowing. “Who’s that, Little Nicky? She sounds—”

“Get the fuck off my property, Anthony.”

Nico didn’t turn around to say anything to Frankie. He kept his eyes on the threat at the door. Money and words meant fuck all to him when far bigger things were at stake, and the two of them had bad history. Just as a bonus.

“Pass the money along,” Carcoli told him.

With that, the man turned to leave.

He really was making noise on the streets if he had keys to a house for less than a couple of days, and Anthony Carcoli already knew about it. He yanked those bags inside and shut the door with a loud slam, spinning around.

“You didn’t fucking listen to me,” he hissed at Frankie. “I need you to listen to me.”

She stood at the bottom of the stairs six feet away; a sheet wrapped around her. He did his best to keep his tone level because he knew she hated yelling and fighting, but fuck. It was hard. She couldn’t know how painfully his heart currently beat in his chest or the way his blood rushed in his head.

“That could have been so bad. It could have gone way different. Get dressed,” Nico told her.

Frankie shot him a look. “Excuse me?”