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Sophie isn’t fazed. Still not breaking eye contact, she slowly starts to unbuckle the leather holster. Once it’s loose, she grabs it and throws it at my feet.
Then she smirks, “Don’t say I never gave you anything, Nico Vitelli.”
I pull the trigger.
Only my finger won’t move.
All I see are her mesmerizing amber eyes and that rebellious mouth. That fiery body tucked neatly into a prim suit. Her courage. How her smooth bun clashes with the decadence of her exposed thighs, the hint of ink on her hip, and the tiny scrap of black lace barely covering her sex.
My arm falls to my side, the weight of the Glock suddenly too much to hold up. I disengage the safety and let it slip through my hand. It clatters to the floor, landing right on top of her dagger.
When I look back up at her. She’s no longer smirking. Her eyes are soft and glowing with…relief? Pride? I don’t fucking know, nor do I care because there are more pressing needs.
I close the distance between us, and suddenly my hands seem to be working again because the first thing they do is reach up to get her hair out of that ridiculous bun. Dark silk tresses tumble down and I tangle my fingers in the glorious mass. She says nothing as I shove her against the nearest wall and crush my lips to hers.
It’s not a kiss. It’s a devouring. Anger, frustration, and desire pour out from me. She moans, but her hand comes up to sharply connect with the side of my face in what should feel like a stinging slap, but it doesn't because she’s kissing me back with a hunger that rocks me. She sucks my tongue into her mouth, sinks her teeth into it, then slides her tongue along it in soothing glides.
I groan, grab her ass and pull her flush against me as the kiss becomes something else. A sensual melding of breaths and a series of savage licks and bites.
We’re both moaning at this point, and there’s now also the metallic tang of blood mingled with Sophie’s unique taste. I have no clue whose blood it is, but neither of us seems inclined or able to stop.
When her incessant hard tugs on my hair threaten to leave me with bald spots, I grab her bandaged hand and slam it high above her head, trapping it in mine. Her other hand roams free, though, and her nails score and dig into my shoulder muscles with a delicious sting.
I want to tear off our clothes and fuck her until neither of us can walk away from this monumental mess that we are. My other hand leaves her hair and then trails down her torso, palming her full breast. She jerks when I pinch her nipple, hard.
“Nico!” Breaking the kiss, she cries out my name in a way that drives me insane with lust.
I pinch her taut nub again, then shove my tongue back in her mouth to keep her quiet, while my fingers stroke down her quivering belly and into her crotch. She’s unbelievably wet, exactly as she was last night. I catch the flimsy lace covering her mound and tug sharply, unable to wait to feel her tight heat around my fingers again. This time I won’t stop until she loses her mind. I need to unravel her, the way she’s doing to me.
Three knocks against the cabin wall bring me back to my senses. “Boss?” Riccardo calls.
Shit. I’ve fucking lost it.
I pull away from her, putting a few feet between us, and then I shove my trembling hands into my pockets.
I focus on a point above her shoulder. “You’re right,” I say coldly. “I saw where you came from. So, I know exactly where to find the people who are important to you.”
She retorts without missing a beat, her voice as smooth as ice, “The day you get the drop on Phoenix Kellan is the day hell freezes over.”
If only she knew that her home should be a smoking pile of rubble right now, along with everyone she cares about.
“Who said anything about Phoenix? I meant Mags,” I say, honing in on the tenderness I’d witnessed between the two women. “And I’ll make it slow and painful.”
In the periphery of my vision, I see her composure falter for a fraction of a second. I’ve hit home. I’ve scared her.
And don’t I feel like a fucking asshole for it?
She takes a few steps forward, pressing herself lightly against me as she leans up until her lips are a hair’s breadth from my ear.
“If you try to harm Mags or anyone else who’s important to me,” she snarls, her voice deceptively quiet, “you won’t have to worry about the Reaper Druids coming after you, Nico. I’ll gut you from stem to stern myself,” she grazes her fingers from my cock to my solar plexus.
I fight a smile, marveling at the woman’s steel spine.
“Find your way home and keep your mouth shut. I’m giving you a gift, fiammetta. Don’t make me regret it,” I say, then nod to Riccardo and walk away, through the plane to the bedroom at the back—away from Sophie Kellan, away from what might be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.
I close the door behind me, pull out my phone, and dial my brother’s number. There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable. I sigh and scrub a hand through my hair as the ringing stops.
“Dante, we have a problem.”
