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I glance over at the door. It would be so easy to slip out of the flat and head upstairs.
Is he even in? Or has he already forgotten all about me and is out with Alex trying to find a woman to spend the night with?
It certainly would have been what he was doing when we first met.
A lot has changed since then, though. And as much as I might want to tell myself that he’s out living his life, something tells me that he’s not.
He’s not the same person as he was the night he fucked me six ways from Sunday in Hades.
Hell, I’m not the same person either.
I fall back onto the bed, my eyes on the ceiling once more, wondering if he’s up there. And if he is, what he’s doing.
* * *
I don’t remember drifting off, but it happens faster than I was expecting seeing as I’ve barely left this room for the past two days. Apparently, healing from my near-death experience is a full-time job.
The first thing I sense when I begin to come to is that I’m being watched.
My heart jumps into my throat and my body immediately begins to burn up.
But then, a deep, rumbling growl rips through the air, one I’d recognise anywhere, and I relax. Although, not a lot.
Cracking my eyes open, I find that the room is almost too dark to even see him. I can just make out his dark form in the shadow.
I fight to keep my breathing even so he doesn’t realise I’m awake.
What the fuck is he doing here?
He groans again, and my eyes drop to his crotch, expecting to find him jerking off like a creep over my sleeping body.
But despite not being able to see where his hand actually is, there is no movement.
He just… sits there.
My eyes are heavy as fuck as I lie there in the dark, watching him watch me.
The temptation is so fucking strong to let him know that I’m aware of his presence, but I don’t move a muscle despite the fact my body is burning up beneath the duvet.
My lower stomach clenches with desire, my pussy getting slick with arousal like it always does when he’s around.
He’s like fucking kryptonite.
I don’t want him. Most of the time I can’t stand him. Yet my body speaks to his like no other I’ve ever met.
I shift slightly, holding my breath as I test the water.
I’ve no idea if the movement is too slight, if it’s too dark, or if he’s not really paying attention, but he doesn’t so much as flinch.
Does he not care about being caught?
“I’m so fucking hard for you, Brianna,” he says so quietly I almost think I’m imagining it. “I miss you.”
I suck in a sharp breath at that confession. It hits so much different from his first one.
“Nico,” I sigh, his name nothing more than a breath on my lips as I brazenly roll on my back, kicking the covers off my heated body.
“Siren?” His raspy voice is a little louder this time.
