CHAPTER 17
NINA MARCHESI
“I’m not doing that!” I refuse vehemently, shaking my head from side to side to reinforce it.
“It’s fun,” Nero insists.
“Uh-uh. No chance!” Wearing nothing but a white bikini, I look from the quartet of jet skis tied alongside the sailboat to the man floating high above the sea with nothing on his feet but boots, blasting powerful jets of water to keep himself airborne.
“Where’s your adventurous spirit?”
“Safely stored somewhere inside me where the limit is half-hour hikes!” He bursts out laughing at my answer.
“Why on earth would a human being invent something like that? This is clearly dangerous!”
“I didn’t know you were a coward, Little Fae.”
“You can stop right there, because that’s not going to work! If staying alive is a certificate of cowardice, I’ll sign it gladly. And I’d honestly feel better if you didn’t try that today either. If you die, how am I supposed to get home?”
The laughter that leaves his throat now is even louder than before, and Nero wraps his arms around me from behind.
The touch is distracting—and I might even suspect it was calculated if, ever since he showed up at my door a few hours ago, Nero hadn’t been taking every possible opportunity to touch me, to brush his lips against mine.
Of course, that could’ve been the plan from the start—but if enjoying that plan means I need to sign a second certificate this morning, please bring me another pen.
“It’s called Flyboarding.”
“It’s called a suicidal instinct.”
“And the jet skis—do you want to try those?”
“If you teach me?” I ask, tilting my head back to look at him. He lowers his face and kisses the tip of my nose.
“Of course.”
“Then fine. That I’ve always wanted to try. It looks safe.”
Nero steps away to talk to the men handling the watercraft, and within minutes they organize themselves and leave on just two of them—leaving the other two tied to the side of the sailboat for us.
He grabs a life jacket and hands it to me.
I put it on carefully, adjusting the straps to my body while he does the same—never taking his mischievous gaze off me.
I can’t even judge him for it, because the moment I’m free to look, I let my eyes roam with undisguised interest over every tattoo covering Nero’s chest, arms, and forearms.
“Ready?” he asks, extending his hand to help me climb down onto the jet ski.
Hesitant but willing to face the challenge, I take his hand and step carefully. But the moment the jet ski wobbles and I slip just a little, panic flashes across my face.
“Maybe it’s better if I just ride along this time,” I suggest, balancing with my arms like I’m standing on a circus ball.
With an entirely unsympathetic laugh, Nero stands up on his jet ski and—like it’s the easiest thing in the world—jumps onto mine, settling behind me.
He grips the handlebars and starts the engine, giving me a few basic instructions. The vibration of the ignition alone sends adrenaline surging through my body before we’ve even moved.
“Just relax and enjoy it. On the way back, you’ll drive, Little Fae.”
I smile as I feel the soft smack of a kiss on my neck—and then Nero accelerates, launching us across the water and picking up speed within seconds.
I scream with surprise and excitement, gripping my hands on his thighs. The wind whips through my hair, sea spray splashes my face, and I laugh uncontrollably. Nero handles the jet ski with skill, carving tight turns and jumping waves—pulling nervous, thrilled screams and laughter from me.
After a while, he slows down and guides us to a calmer area, where the sea is gentle and the view breathtaking. We cut the engine, letting the jet ski drift smoothly over the crystal-clear water toward a small beach.
“What did you think?” he asks with a smile, hopping off the jet ski and bringing his hands to my life jacket, unfastening it. He takes his time—longer than necessary—subtly touching me in the process, never breaking eye contact.
“Incredible,” I admit, still breathless from the adrenaline. “Thank you for steering, Captain.” I tease, giving a sloppy salute.
“Always at your service, madam.” Nero smiles, kisses my cheek, and helps me down.
“What’s that?” I ask, noticing the small bag he pulls from the compartment under the seat, with two tubes sticking out of it.
“Do you know how to swim?”
“I live in Khione, Nero,” I reply dryly. “We learn to swim before we learn to walk.”
“I also live in Khione—but I only learned how to swim at sixteen.”
I gasp at the confession, and the image of the boy Nero I knew at the orphanage rushes back with force, setting off every protective, affectionate instinct inside me. I throw myself into his arms and hug him tight, whispering,
“Thank you for caring and not assuming basic things—and I’m sorry for not doing the same. I—”
He cuts my guilt short by claiming my mouth with more urgency than I expected, crushing my lips against his.
The invisible spark snaps between us instantly. I melt in his arms, lifting my hands to his neck to get closer—even though there’s barely any space between us beyond our mingling breaths.
Nero frames my face gently, and the kiss changes—still deep and urgent, but softer, slower—exploring texture and taste in this moment frozen in time, where only salt and sun witness the inexplicable connection forming between us.
Our lips move together in a rhythm that feels both familiar and entirely new, communicating desires and emotions beyond words.
My hands trace Nero’s face, skimming his cheeks and caressing the back of his neck, feeling the smooth warmth of his skin beneath my fingers.
He tightens his arms around my waist, pulling me closer, while his other hand slides through my hair, spreading the kiss along my jaw and sucking hard.
Our bodies press together as if we’re trying to merge into one.
The heat between us is almost tangible, and the urgency of the kiss intensifies—fed by the growing desire consuming us.
A scream bursts from my throat—completely mismatched with the moment—and Nero startles.
“I think a snake just brushed my leg,” I say, alarmed.
“Saved by a snake,” he inhales deeply, glancing down at his erection. “Maybe not so saved after all.”
He hands me the snorkel mask and helps me put on the fins. When he stands, he gives me nothing but a chaste peck on the lips and says seriously,
“Maybe three lifetimes won’t be enough, Little Fae.”
I press my lips together, trying not to laugh—and fail spectacularly.
“Come on.” He kisses me again, as if he can’t help himself, and dives in without letting go of my hand.
Schools of vibrant fish swim around us as we observe the corals and tiny creatures clinging to them. The cool, translucent water envelops us, and Nero pulls me closer, our bodies nearly touching.
As we dive deeper, on impulse, Nero kisses me underwater. I feel the pressure of his lips on mine.
The intensity makes us momentarily forget the need to breathe until he gently guides us back to the surface. With our lips still touching, we inhale deeply—never breaking contact.
Nero helps me stay afloat, and I wrap my legs around his waist, bringing our bodies even closer. My hips brush subtly against his, and desire blooms inside me—heightened by the cold water surrounding us and the heat radiating from his skin, creating a uniquely intoxicating sensation.
He holds me firmly, letting me lose myself in the moment and surrender to everything we’re feeling together. Our kisses deepen again, more demanding, our hands exploring each other, discovering new ways to provoke and ignite.
When I feel myself on the verge of doing something truly reckless, I break away, laughing at the expression on his face as I swim off just a few strokes. He chases me.
We swim to a rock formation dividing the current.
“You’re beautiful even underwater,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver.
His hands trap me again in the best captivity in the world, roaming my body, caressing my back and sliding down to my thighs. With every touch, my heart races, my body craving more.
“Nero, this is so… intense,” I pant.
He smiles and kisses me again. My hands explore his shoulders and arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath his skin, and I lose myself in the sensation of having him so close.
Wrapped in the magic of the moment, we barely notice time passing. The sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and we decide it’s time to head back to the sailboat.
This time, I take control of the jet ski while Nero settles behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist—and shows no concern for his life whatsoever, spending the entire ride kissing my neck, shoulders, and back.
When his tongue drags confidently down my spine, I threaten him,
“If you’re trying to die, I suggest you do it alone—I have plans for tomorrow.”
He doesn’t stop, and the jet ski’s speed is almost pathetic under my control. I suspect that with fins and a bit of goodwill, we’d get back faster.
“Tomorrow is very far away. I have plans for tonight. I remember a certain bold Little Fae telling me she didn’t want me to behave.”
“I didn’t think you’d attempt to end our lives over it.”
I spot the sailboat in the distance and thank God—because Nero has clearly lost all sense of danger. His fingers slip inside the bottom of my bikini, finding the evidence of the delicious torture I endured during this trip—which has lasted far longer than it should have.
When he strokes and rubs me, I lean back against his chest, spreading my legs to give him better access, completely abandoning any attempt to control the jet ski.
I feel confident. The heat of Nero’s body against mine only heightens the euphoria. My broken moans dissolve into the sea breeze sweeping over my sensitive skin—and I grind against his firm hand until I come in open water, the spectacular sunset blazing behind us.
Nero waits while I catch my breath, never stopping his touch—his hands roaming my skin with adoration, his mouth kissing every place he touches.
When I try to turn and reach for his erection over his swim trunks, he stops me, lifting my hand to kiss my palm before turning me back around.
“Later, Little Fae.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Definitely not.”
I cross my arms over his, my sensitive nipples pressing into the hold. He gives me another soft kiss on the neck and pulls my face to kiss my mouth.
“I’m starting to get addicted to watching you come.”
“I wish I could say the same—but you’re not helping.”
Nero laughs loudly and pulls his hands away to take control of the handlebars, accelerating the jet ski.
“Later, Little Fae.”
“Promise?”
“It’s the first time I’ve met a horny fairy.”
“And I hope the only one,” I say without thinking—but before I can worry about it, Nero drowns any concern with his answer.
“Jealous and needy. My favorite combination.”