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I’d been right from the beginning. I’d never survive this man . . . but it was too late now. I would just have to enjoy my time while it lasted.
Goose bumps trailed down my arms as I padded toward him on bare feet. It was too damn cold in this house, and Nico was always as hot as a furnace. He could share some of his warmth.
“You’re not bored with me yet, are you?”
He ran a hand across his jaw. “I think you’ve got a few days, give or take.”
Stepping into his space, I gripped the end of his tie. “Only a few days?” I inhaled a deep breath of him. “I guess I better make them last then.” Rising to my tiptoes, I tried to kiss him, but he turned his head.
Maybe I would’ve been dismayed by his reaction not long ago, but I knew him better now. It also helped that he had a hard-on I could feel against my stomach. So I ignored his rejection and pressed my lips to his jawline instead. He’d shaved this morning and the skin was smooth for a change. I kissed a line down his throat, growing dizzy from his taste and smell.
He brought the tumbler to his mouth like I wasn’t making out with his neck. “Thought you’d rather jump off the Brooklyn Bridge than go through with it today.”
“No.” I shook my head, running my tongue up his throat and my palm down to cup his erection. He pushed my hand away. “Maybe the Washington Bridge, though,” I added. “It’s much closer to the ground.”
I rested my hand over his hard-on again, rubbing the entire length of him. He let me, but still held that stupid glass of whiskey. I kissed my way up to the corner of his lips, and he finally turned his head and swallowed my sigh in his mouth. The kiss was wet and rough, maybe a little annoyed. My tongue slid against his, and a flame pulsed to life in my lower belly.
He nipped my bottom lip. “You make me fucking crazy.”
“Don’t blame me for your psychosis.”
“You are my psychosis.”
“Rude,” I breathed against his lips.
He set his glass down, grabbed the back of my neck, and then kissed me deep and slow. He kissed me until my heartbeat throbbed between my legs. A frenzy burned through my blood. I pressed my body to his, raked my blunt nails down his stomach and tugged at his belt buckle. He made a rough sound in his throat, but his lips began to slow against mine. When I realized he was pulling away, I moaned in frustration.
“Nico . . .”
His thumb brushed over my mouth. “Surely a woman who acts like she’s at a funeral instead of getting married doesn’t want her husband to fu
ck her.”
“She does,” I protested.
Sex was sex and marriage was marriage.
Why was he always interweaving the two?
Didn’t he understand how much I wanted him? The words escaped me before I could stop them.
“I thought about you, you know . . . before we were engaged.” My blush was so intense it burned in my chest and made my heart race.
His body stilled for a split second. “Yeah?”
A tight sensation wrapped around my lungs—a mixture of fear, embarrassment, and vulnerability—but I needed him to know I wanted him. The truth was, I needed him in a way I couldn’t even fathom, but I couldn’t let anyone know it was that severe, especially him. Finding the courage somewhere deep inside of me, I rose to my toes and pressed my lips to his ear.
“After that moment in the kitchen at my parents’, I was so hot I couldn’t even think . . . so I went to my room and lay on my bed. And then I slipped my fingers inside me and pretended they were yours.”
Three heartbeats drummed in my ears.
“Fuck me,” he groaned, before grabbing my hips, lifting me, and meeting my mouth with his. Finally. My legs wrapped around his waist and my hands buried in his hair.
Walking me backward toward the stairs, he kissed me like he was trying to eat me alive. He was such a selfish kisser. Kissing me only when he wanted, biting me, controlling every dip, lick, and press of our lips.
He trailed his mouth down my neck, and I worked on his vest and shirt buttons. I wanted his skin against mine, something I’d only felt once, and something I ached for. I got all of them but the cuffs, which were impossible since his hands were kneading my ass. I tugged the white undershirt out of his pants and ran my hands beneath it. Over the hot skin of his stomach and chest. He hissed through his teeth, and a lungful of air escaped me when he fell on top of me on the bed.
He yanked on my dress, and a rip sounded as the straps came loose. “That was Chanel,” I breathed against his lips, but all thoughts vanished when he pulled down my bra and sucked on my breasts. His hands gripped low on my ass, and I sighed when his fingers slid beneath my panties, brushing my clit and teasing my entrance.
