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I gasp against his lips, crying out as it hits me, but he doesn't slow. Instead, he increases his pace, panting and moaning against the crook of my neck. He nips me again, breathing something else in Italian that sounds a lot like a swear—and then he buries himself in me again, deeper, going still.
Holy crap. I can barely breathe, still trembling and shivering a little as Nico's lips dust over my clavicle.
But as soon as I come down from the euphoric high, I tense.
Oh, God. What did I just do?
This is Nico freaking Attolini. The Undertaker—the man who hates me, and I hate him. It doesn't matter that his presence does funny things to my stomach, and his voice gives me goosebumps. I should have thought this through.
He rolls off me, but his hand traces up and down my side, smoothing over my hip. I can tell he's about to say something. Before he can, I yank the bed's covers over my nakedness and sit up, glaring down at him. I'm sure my face is still completely flushed.
"Let's not. That was…that was—"
“Fottutamente perfetto come te,”he mutters, sitting up with me. His dark hair is mussed, waves of it falling over half of his forehead. It's not fair that he looks this good when I'm sure I look like a ball of wild hair and frizz.
I really need to learn Italian. I remember thinking the same thing four years ago because back then, he thought it was amusing to say dirty things to me that I couldn't understand. I have no idea what Nico said, but I just shake my head. I'm sure whatever it was, we're not on the same page.
Time to remedy that.
"A mistake," I finally finish. "It was just a mistake."
He freezes, and then his jaw tightens. The warm turquoise of his eyes is suddenly glacial. "I would tolerate you calling it contractual. Nothing less."
I bark a laugh. "Contractual? No. It wasn't. Because I never officially agreed to your insane offer."
Nico's face hardens more. Fury lines his lips. "Like hell, you didn't. If that wasn't agreeing, what was it?"
I scramble off the bed, locating my clothes strewn all over and putting them on quickly so his scalding gaze can't touch me everywhere like it is now. I can admit to myself that I'm also using getting dressed as an excuse to pull myself together. I need composure because everything else in my life feels totally fucked up right now.
You just slept with Nico. You're the one who's fucked.
Once I'm dressed, I turn and find that he has his pants on, but his white suit shirt is unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. That leaves his naked, muscular, tattooed body open for studying, which is hard to resist.
He's a terrifying specimen, the epitome of a bad boy. During sex, I'd noticed the tattoos—especially the initials J.A.J. scrawled just behind his ear. The other tattoos are a montage of symbols and pictures, except for the tattoo that looks like a crest on his arm.
He has scars, too. Injuries from his life of violence. Most are hidden under ink, but the pale lines are easy to find.
"I told you," I reiterate, pulling my eyes away from him and tossing my hair. "It was just a mistake. I was all…hormonal. And vulnerable. You took advantage of that."
Oh, shit. If I thought Nico looked mad before, he's royally pissed off now. He strides towards me, taking my chin to make me look up into his fuming face.
"Don't lie to yourself. I didn't take advantage of you in any way. You fucking wanted that. Own up to it."
I wrench my face away and fold my arms. "Look, it happened, okay? We were just…." I struggle and then huff. "Releasing tension. It's been four years, and we're adults, and it just happened. But it didn't mean anything—it certainly didn't mean I agree to your Dark Age summoning for an heir, got it?"
Before he can respond, there's a knock on the door. I shrink back, eyeing it warily. Who else would know about this little hideout? Or is it just a civilian neighbor telling us to keep it down?
Nico angrily throws open the door to reveal Percy, whose eyes go big and round in the face of his boss's obvious irritation. He takes in my mussed state and whistles.
"Well, shit. Can't say I didn't expect it, but—"
Nico snarls, and his pal quickly takes a giant step away from the door so that he's well out of swinging range.
"You asked me to come back. Remember?"
"Take a walk. Maybe you'll come back with better timing."
Percy doesn't need to be told twice. Nico slams the door as he retreats and turns back to me, his chest rising and falling in anger and his fists clenched. If anything, he seems infuriated by something about his friend's presence. He steps back up to me.
