Chapter 28 Nicolò
Nicolò
For the first time in months, I sleep like the dead—without the aid of a pill.
She’s the first thing I think of the second I’m awake.
I picture her hair scattered across the arm of the couch and her creamy thigh tossed over my legs.
I stroked it absentmindedly as we kissed, feeding an erection I wouldn’t tend to.
Not until I got into my room and had to release the built up arousal.
I shot my load and was still ready to bang down her damn door.
That never happens. Usually, I fuck someone once and it’s back to work, but not last night.
I had to force myself off the couch—I could have laid with her like that all day.
But there was the small and inconvenient matter of our parents in their upstairs bedroom, who would have suffered heart attacks if they’d caught their offspring half-naked and kissing on the sofa.
And I can’t even begin to think how they’d have reacted if they’d walked in while I was licking my stepsister’s pussy in our family home.
I force my mind off the memory to stop my morning semi growing into a full-blown hard on, and go take a cold shower.
When I emerge fifteen minutes later wearing sweats and a t-shirt, hunger hits me and I decide to go in search of food.
Mom is bustling around the kitchen looking slightly panicked.
That captures my attention for a few seconds, but then I see a shape I’m now intimately familiar with sitting at the table reading a magazine.
She lifts her gaze shyly and a sweet, sexy blush floods her cheeks.
She looks away quickly but I linger on the way her breasts heave as she breathes.
Fuck, I’m relieved she’s as affected by me as I am by her.
Mom arranges a ton of herbs and spices on the island. “Are you going to be here for dinner later, Nicolò?”
I glance at Lina but her head is buried and she doesn’t look up again.
“Sure. I can make it.”
“Great,” she says with a sigh. “Seven o’clock, okay? Don’t be late.”
I open the fridge door. “I’ll be here.”
“What time did you come home? I didn’t hear you.”
Taking out a juice bottle I close the door and turn my back to the refrigerator, leaning my weight against it. My gaze glides to Lina whose face is getting redder and redder. Shit. We’re going to have to work on that.
I twist the cap off the bottle. “I don’t remember. Three, maybe?”
Lina looks up again as I stare at her over the rim of the bottle. I can see her pupils dilating from here and it sends a stream of heat straight to my dick. We are so fucked.
Mom walks over to me and strokes a hand affectionately over my cheek. “You youngsters…” She clicks her tongue. “Hardly any sleep and you still look perky and full of energy.”
I smile at her. “It’s called ‘youth’, Mom.” Youth and what happens when you spend the night with the kind of beauty many people can only dream about.
“Well, listen. I need a favor.”
With some reluctance, I drag my gaze from Lina to my mother. “What’s up?”
“I need a few more items from the grocery store but I don’t have time to go. I promised Tony I’d help him out with the books.”
“Okay, sure. Just give me a list.”
Mom comes to my side and stands on her toes to plant a kiss on my cheek.
“Thanks love, that’s a huge help. Maybe take Bambi with you. She was just saying how she doesn’t have plans today.”
I glide my focus to Lina, a knowing smile catching the corner of my lips. “Fine,” I say, forcing boredom into my tone. “If I must.”
Mom slaps a sheet of notepaper on the counter, elbows me in the ribs then grabs her keys from the side.
“Okay kids, I’ll see you later.”
I watch the doorway until I hear the lock of the front door click, then I turn to face Lina. She’s lowered her magazine and is staring back at me with full, parted, wet lips and eyes so wide and fluid I want to dive right into them.
I force myself to lean back against the kitchen cupboards. I have to learn how to resist her if we’re going to keep this a secret.
“Imagine removing your clothes and slipping into a tub of ice,” I suggest.
She jerks slightly. “What?”
“To get your blushing under control.”
She releases a tense breath, her shoulders dropping. “Fuck, I know. I tried Nicolò. I really tried.”
I step forward and brace my arms on the island. My head feels heavy when I lift it. “At least we’ll get some practice this evening.”
“Yeah,” she replies, breathlessly. “Yeah, we will.”
She’s fidgeting with her fingers, clearly uneasy about something.
“Are you okay?” I ask, a little warily.
Her eyes flick sharply to mine. “I don’t know.”
A small kernel of anxiety blooms in my belly. “What is it?”
“I want to touch you,” she whispers.
“Okay.” I straighten.
“No, I mean, like all the time.”
My eyes widen.
“It’s constant. I can’t help it. I haven’t slept. It’s like I have a fever. I feel…” she kind of squints, “…ill.”
All my dirty thoughts are squashed beneath concern as I watch her fingers trembling against her tight leggings. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, it’s just—” she stands, shakily, her fingers flexing and curling around each other.
I stalk around the island, not taking a breath before tilting her face up to mine and slamming my lips onto hers. She sighs a long, relieved breath into my mouth and kisses me back with urgency. Her fingers curl into my damp hair and I hold her so tightly she lifts off the floor.
“This…” she moans softly as I kiss her lips. “This is what I need.”
My hands roam her everywhere—the curve of her ass cheeks beneath the butter soft leggings, the indentation of her waist beneath a vest top and slouchy sweater falling lucidly off one shoulder.
Her breasts aren’t huge but they fill my palms perfectly, letting me pump them gently, the nipples hardening as soon as my thumbs glide across them.
My semi is thickening fast and if I don’t get us both out of here, I’ll be tempted to defile her again on the kitchen table.
“We should go,” I say, pulling back and licking my lips. “We have grocery shopping to do, Mrs. Di Santo.”
Her brows knit as she processes what I just said. She’ll never be Mrs. Di Santo. We’ll never be married. Not to each other, anyway, but for now, we can pretend.
Her face tilts. “You’re right, honey. We should go.”
I take her hand in mine and lead her out of the kitchen, swiping my keys off the counter on the way. Taking both our coats out of the closet, I wrap one around her before slipping mine on and taking her hand again. At the front door I turn to face her.
“You ready, wife?”
Her smile is giddy. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
We hold hands until we’re through the door, then I release her, knowing there’s security detail on the gate, and I know those guys: they talk.
Once she’s tucked her feet into the car, I close the door and walk round to the driver’s side.
Getting into my car beside her feels different now. Without either of us voicing it, there’s been some kind of commitment made. We’re putting our hearts on the line for this forbidden connection. That means something.
Damn. My breath escapes with the realization. She’s my woman.
I rest my hand on her thigh as we pull out of the gates and sneak quiet glances at her pink cheeks and fluttering eyes.
In a weird way, I finally feel like I can openly admit things to myself that I’ve been hiding away—things I’ve been pretending don’t exist. Like the way I crave her scent—sometimes it’s peonies, sometimes vanilla. But always with a heavy dose of her.
Her voice. Deep and rasping for someone so young. Just a few words from her mouth can get me turned right up.
And her sweetness. Fuck. She’s not like her sisters.
Trilby is strong-willed and single-minded.
Tess is a sass-mouthed firecracker. Sera is formidable and full of feeling.
But Lina… She’s so damn sweet, and kind, and timid, and seemingly innocent, and all the things I’ve never found sexy before but now can’t seem to get enough of.
Too soon, we arrive at the store. My fingers brush hers as we approach the entrance and my heart pumps hard. Is it really fucking weird that I like coming grocery shopping with my girl?
I feel her gaze turn to me. “What’s on the list?”
I look down at my mom’s writing. “Lemons, oranges, zucchini…”
“We need a cart,” she says, looking around.
“Wait here.” I leave her in the doorway to the store and return with an empty cart, then I wave her hands away, insisting I push it, not her.
“So, tell me,” I start, feeding the urge to know more about her. “What’s your favorite meal?”
She looks at me, quizzically at first, then her eyes light up. “Risotto—any kind. Yours?”
“You know mine,” I reply, a smile pulling on my lips.
“What?”
“Come on, you know it.” I wrap my arm around her waist pulling her flush to my chest. “I fed it to you.”
Her gaze narrows until she remembers. “Pecan maple pancakes,” she says slowly. “You let me try yours at the diner after I shot you.”
I glance from side to side to make sure no one’s watching us—not that anyone would recognize me outside of my usual habitat of nightclubs, union offices and back rooms. Then I lean down and kiss her slowly. “Look how good we are at the romantic gestures,” I murmur against her lips.
Her body feels malleable in my arms, like she’s melting.
“You’d been drooling over them ever since you changed your order to a green smoothie. I couldn’t take your sad, hungry eyes anymore—I had to feed you.”
She swipes my arm, playfully, while I tighten my grip around her.
“That’s why I left early, you know.”
She blinks up at me. “What?”
“I left the diner right after I fed you a forkful of my pancakes. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember. But I thought you were just being your usual grumpy a-hole self.”
“Well, I was,” I shrug. “But you were the catalyst, Bambalina.”
“Why?”