Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Nico
The car is still warm from the drive, the interior carrying that faint dinner smell—garlic, wine, whatever Bianca put in the sauce that made everyone shut up for five full seconds as we ate in appreciation.
Erica is leaning toward me from the passenger seat, her cheeks flushed, hair slightly mussed.
Mostly because my hand is in it, holding her exactly where I want her as I devour her mouth.
My hand slides from her hair to her neck, my thumb stroking the pulse hammering at the base of her throat.
God, I love that.
I love that I can make her pulse beat faster.
She makes a soft noise, her hands coming up to my chest, not to push me away but to anchor herself.
She shifts in her seat, leaning closer, a silent invitation for more.
The windows are slightly fogged. It’s just the two of us in the quiet dark.
My other arm wraps around her, pulling her across the console, until her body is flush against mine. The angle is awkward, the steering wheel digging into my hip, but I don’t care.
I need to be closer.
I deepen the kiss, tasting the pasta sauce on her tongue, the sweetness of the dessert she loved. She melts into me, all soft curves and willing heat, and for a minute, I forget about everything else.
Forget about the watchful eyes of my family. Forget about my father’s silent appraisal. Forget about Vito’s goddamn knowing smirk.
All I know is the woman in my arms, the scent of her skin, the way she fits against me like she was made for me.
She pulls back slightly, her breath coming in little pants against my lips.
“Nico,” she whispers.
My name on her lips is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
I lean in to kiss her again.
She sighs into my mouth.
"I have to go," she murmurs
I don't want to let her go.
Ever.
"Just a few more minutes," I say against her lips.
She nods, her eyes fluttering closed.
I kiss her again.
Slowly this time.
Softly.
Savoring every moment.
I can feel her relax against me, her body soft and pliant.
My hand slides down her back, tracing the curve of her spine.
She shivers and moves closer.
I smile against her mouth and slide my hand up her side and around to cup her breast through the dress.
She gasps and arches into my hand, her nipple hardening against my palm.
Deftly, I slide my hand under her bra to cup it bare, my thumb circling her nipple.
She makes a soft noise and presses her breast more firmly into my palm. I kiss her deeply, my tongue exploring her mouth as I continue to tease her nipple.
"I want to fuck you," I whisper against her mouth. "Right here, right now."
"Oh God, yes," she moans. "I want that too."
I roll her nipple between my fingers before pinching it, just a little hard. She cries out and arches her back, her hands gripping my shoulders. I pinch her again, harder this time, and she whimpers, her body trembling.
"I want to taste you," I whisper in her ear. "I want to feel your pussy clench around my tongue as you come."
She whimpers and moves her hips back and forth.
I smile and trail my kisses down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. She shivers and moves closer, her hands tangling in my hair.
"I want to taste you too," she says, her voice husky with desire. "I want your cock in my mouth, my throat."
My cock hardens at her words.
God, this woman.
She’s going to kill me.
I kiss her again, a deep, possessive kiss that leaves us both breathless.
Finally, I break the kiss and rest my forehead against hers.
"You have to go," I say, my voice rough.
She nods, her breath still coming in short bursts.
"For real this time," she says, still breathless.
“I don’t want you to go,” I say.
“I don’t want to go either,” she murmurs.
“I want to take you home and fuck you all night,” I say, my voice husky.
“I want that too,” she whispers. “But I can’t.”
“I know,” I say, and I kiss her again, a soft, gentle kiss this time. “Your dad.”
“Yeah,” she says, a little sadly. "I have to relieve the nurse. It's not her night."
She pushes herself back into her own seat, her face a mess of lipstick I ruined. Her hair is a tangled mess. Her eyes are bright and dazed as she fixes her dress back into place.
She looks wrecked.
She looks beautiful.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything or anyone before.
I kiss her again, a quick, hard kiss that’s meant to say everything I can’t. She holds on for an extra second.
“I can be in your room,” I say, voice low and dark. “Waiting when you get up there.”
Her laugh is weak and breathy, and she bites it back by kissing me again, but I feel it anyway—through her mouth, through the way her shoulders shake once.
“I can’t,” she says.
“Why not?” I ask.
She swallows.
“Because my dad’s had trouble sleeping,” she says quietly. “And we’re not exactly… quiet.”
That makes my mouth twitch. I lean in and brush my lips against hers, barely anything.
“I know how to keep you quiet,” I murmur.
Her whole body reacts like I touched a livewire running through her. Her breath hitches, and her eyes flutter shut for a second like she’s trying to steady herself.
When she opens them again, she looks wrecked. It’s a small, vicious satisfaction, and I don’t even bother trying to pretend it isn’t.
“Don’t,” she whispers, like it’s a warning. “I really, really have to go. I have to go right now before I do something stupid.”
“Too late,” I murmur.
She swats at my shoulder, weak.
I catch her wrist and kiss the inside of it.
“Go,” I tell her.
She pushes the door open and steps out—and her legs actually wobble.
That pulls a low laugh out of me before I can stop it.
She glares at me over the top of the car door, cheeks burning.
“Shut up,” she mouths.
I lift a hand in surrender, still smiling.
She shuts the door and turns toward the house. I watch her walk up the path, unlock the door, and slip inside.
Only when the door closes behind her do I finally exhale.
Time to go back to my father’s house for a meeting about the warehouse. We’ve all been putting it off because I was bruised and swollen, but we can’t anymore.
I think about Erica again, on these nights when she goes back to her father’s house, and I’m left feeling the echo of her body against mine.
Of course her father’s needs come first. He’s family.
But on the nights the nurse stays over, and I have Erica all to myself all night…
It’s not enough. I want that every night.
I start the engine and pull away from the curb, irritation pressing hard under my ribs.
Not at her.
At the situation.
At the fact that “a couple nights a week” somehow became something I simply tolerate instead of something I accept.
It should be fine.
Most men would be satisfied with what I have.
Most men aren’t me.
And Erica isn’t most women.
I pull into the drive of the house I left not too long ago, and the gate opens without hesitation. The house is lit up, the way it always is when everyone’s there. Noise. Movement. People who don’t know how to be quiet.
They loved her.
I saw it.
I saw it in Caterina’s eyes, already claiming her like a sister. In Bianca’s warmth, immediate and protective. In Roberto’s calm approval. In Olivia smiling at her. Even Vito, being a menace, seemed… pleased.
And my father.
Luca watched her the way he watches everything—carefully, weighing, assessing. Then he nodded once, and that was it for him.
That should scare me.
It doesn’t.
What scares me is how simple this feels in my head. How easy it is to picture.
Erica in my house every night. Erica in my bed, not as a guest, not as a temporary arrangement based on a nurse’s schedule.
Just… mine.
I park, cut the engine, and sit there for a beat with my hands on the wheel.
I’ve taken the next step in business a hundred times without blinking. In violence, without flinching. In anything that matters, I move. So why am I hesitating now?
Because it’s not just a step.
It’s her.
And I already know the truth. I want more. I want all of it.
Every night. Every morning.
Her laughter in my kitchen. Her things in my drawers. Her mouth on mine without a clock running in the back of her head.
I love her. So why not?
Why not take the next step?
I get out of the car and shut the door, already deciding.
Tonight we talk about the warehouse.
And then soon, I talk to her.