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“Niccolo,” he nodded. “Conqueror of the people,” his voice assumed a deeper tone and he posed his features into a mask of strength so she laughed.
“Perfect.”
“Si?”
The question surprised her, because it forced her to admit that yes, she’d been speaking honestly. There was something about him that spoke of victory and conquering, of being conquered.
How she wished she had a tighter grip on her body’s responses! But she didn’t – a force was at work that was so much bigger than her. Desire was flaring in the pit of her stomach and even when she could think of a dozen reasons to ignore it, she knew she absolutely didn’t want to.
“Yeah.” She angled her body to face his, her pulse racing, her tempo firing. Was she really going to do this? Do what? Her brain screamed. He might not be interested in her. She might be misreading everything. Before Michael, it had been a really long time before she’d dated anyone. She wasn’t good at this stuff.
And he was really gorgeous. Undoubtedly he could have his pick of anyone. Lightning flashed just beyond the window and she startled. It wasn’t much. Just an involuntary shiver – barely enough to register. But his hand shot out, as if to steady her, his strong fingers curving around her arm. The lightest touch, so gentle and reassuring, but it shot little arrows of awareness through her bloodstream and made her cheeks burn with heat.
“You’re okay?” He murmured. Had he moved closer? Or had she? They stood toe to toe, so she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes now. She could feel his chest moving with each breath he drew.
She nodded, sucking in a gulp of air that was peppered with his intoxicatingly masculine fragrance.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You’re jumpy.”
She was. She had been since Michael. Her lips twisted into a grimace. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
“You don’t need to be.” A divot formed between his brows. “You’re safe here.”
Had he intentionally chosen the word she’d let slip earlier? She bit down on her lower lip, chewing it distractedly. “Am I?”
A growling noise of agreement. She lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest, surprising them both. “I don’t know if I want to feel safe right now.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, his face unreadable. “No?”
Her blood was rushing so fast she could hear it in her ears. She shook her head slowly, her eyes holding his in a courageous display of need. “Nope.”
“Maddie,” her name on his lips was a sensual incantation, but he stayed where he was. “I didn’t invite you here for this.”
Insecurities cut through her desire. She dropped her hand and spun away from him. “Oh, God. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She shook her head, unable to look at him, staring across the room. “You’ve been really kind and I shouldn’t…”
His fingers curved around her wrist, pulling at her gently. “The same thing that came over you has come over me too,” he promised and her heart skipped a beat. “But I invited you to shelter here with no agenda. I need to know you believe that, that you won’t think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”
Pleasure flooded her heart. So considerate. So kind. But Michael had seemed like that at the start, too. He’d seemed so perfect. She bit down on her lip, swallowing the bitterness that cloyed at her throat.
Nico wasn’t Michael, and nor was she the same woman she’d been then. And she wasn’t looking for a relationship – she’d learned her lesson there. God knew if she’d ever feel secure enough to want to pursue anything long term. But in this moment, with this man, she wanted enough to cloud her doubts and questions. The future felt a long way away, tomorrow in another universe.
“And if I want to take advantage of the situation?” She murmured, lifting up onto the tips of her toes so their lips were just an inch apart.
“Dio aiutami,” he groaned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means God help me,” he muttered, but the last words were smothered by his lips as he crushed them to hers. It was a kiss of complete and total possession. Her knees felt weak and his arm clamped behind her back as though he knew without his support she might slide right to the ground.
Stars exploded through her mind, celestial dust blowing through all her dark spaces, filling her with light and heat and warmth. His other hand cradled her head, his fingers pushing through her damp hair so she moaned, opening her mouth wider. Their tongues duelled but it wasn’t a fight; no, it was a capitulation in every sense of the world. Only she didn’t feel as though she was surrendering; she felt victorious, as though she was reclaiming an important part of herself. As though this simple act of passion could stitch something of Madeleine Gray back into place, just as she’d been before Michael.
Her hands, pressed to his chest, sought his shirt, pushing it so her fingertips could connect with the naked expanse of his muscular abdomen. He was so warm. He said something in his native tongue, the word firing through her body, landing in the pit of her abdomen. Need grew. The storm raged wild outside their window but neither heard it – their own storm was so much more intense, so much more demanding. He lifted her easily, holding her body pressed to his own as he carried her through the house, shouldering a door to a darkened room.
“Presumptuous?” He asked with a sexy grin as he flicked a light switch on. She looked around for just long enough to ascertain that they were in a bedroom.
“Nope.” Her hands found his shirt again and now she pushed it up his body. “Perfect.”
