47. NICO
47
NICO
I take a deep breath. I can hardly believe Kate is sitting before me. My muscles are fatigued with tension. I’m expecting her to up and leave at any moment.
She’s as beautiful as ever, dark hair falling around her shoulders, a simple yellow dress hugging her curves. It’s warmer in New York than London, but the air con in the hotel is cool, and her nipples know it. I note their outline through the material, and an electric pulse rips through me.
I’m here to grovel, but the effect this woman has on me is insane. I drag my eyes back to her face and keep them there. I can’t look anywhere else, not without undermining what I’m about to say. Coming to her hotel was a risk, but not as big as the one Kate took to be here. I’ve got to respect that because, what’s life without a little risk-taking?
I inhale, filling my lungs deeply, but as I open my mouth, Kate speaks.
“I owe you an apology, too.”
I close my mouth and press my lips. That’s not what I expected her to say. My brows flex together, and then we speak at the same time.
“If you’ll let me—”
“I felt so dreadful—”
We stop, and for the first time, a hint of a smile touches her face and lights her eyes. She lifts her napkin and dabs the side of her mouth, even though she hasn’t touched a bite of food.
She nods to give me the go-ahead and the words tumble out. “I should have told you about your father as soon as anything happened between us. This was never casual for me. The way I feel about you…” I shake my head, letting out a sigh. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone. I know trusting me might be difficult, but I want you to know that, going forward, I’ll put you first. My loyalty will be to you, and you alone. I'll make no oaths or bonds that require me to lie to you. Nothing will come before you. And I will never, ever keep the truth from you again.”
She hangs her head, fiddles with her cutlery, shifting both knife and fork until they’re exactly parallel to the plate.
“It hurt, you know,” she whispers.
I wait, sensing she’s not finished. She’s still not looking at me, and seeing her pain makes my heart ache.
“Martin Brooks humiliated me, and he enjoyed it,” she says. “He tore me apart that day at lunch. It felt like you’d thrown me to the wolves, left me out in the cold completely undefended. And you could have given me that protection. You could have told me the truth.”
I pause, weighing her words before I speak. “Can you forgive me?”
Kate rolls the edge of her napkin back and forth on the table, curling it up and letting it unfold. My heartbeat swells until it feels like I might explode if she doesn’t speak.
“In an ideal world,” I continue, “I would have told you. But I swore I wouldn’t. And that duty, that honour, is important to me. Jack… your father—”
She holds up a hand, and I shut my mouth. Swallow. Clench my teeth so hard the muscles in my jaw ache.
“I understand why you did it.” Unshed tears rim her eyes, trembling on her lower lids. “And I can forgive you. I do forgive you, with my whole heart. But I wish it hadn’t been like that.”
She forgives me . “Like I said, going forward—”
“You sound like you’re negotiating a business deal.”
I slowly lever my upper body away from the table until it hits the chair behind, keeping my palms flat on the tablecloth. I’m doing this wrong. Fuck.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m not entirely sure what you’re negotiating for,” Kate clarifies. “You’re making suggestions about what you plan to do as we ‘go forward’”—she air quotes with her fingertips—“but you haven’t asked me anything. I don’t know what your idea of ‘going forward’ is.”
Her comment silences me as I realize how presumptuous I’ve been. I run my tongue over my teeth as I decide what to say next.
“Why did you come to New York? I know the Hawkston building is pretty impressive, but it’s hardly up there on the top ten list of things to see when you visit.”
She purses her lips, suppressing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve thought about everything that happened, and the things you said when I found out about my father, Lansen and Martin Brooks.”
“What things?”
“You said you couldn’t be with someone who would give up so easily. Who wouldn’t fight for what they want. That’s why I came here.” She stops, her lips opening and closing as she heaves in a couple of uneven breaths. “To fight for you. For us. Because once I came to terms with everything, and understood what you’d done for Mum, for Jack, for all of us, I realised I’d been… rash.
“That doesn’t mean I agree with what you did, but once I’d thought about it, it wasn’t enough of a reason to give up on us. I couldn't wait for you to come back. I had to know if there was any chance…” Her chin quivers and her teeth dig into her bottom lip, pinning it in place. “But then I saw you with Erica.”
“I told you before, Erica and I don’t have a romantic relationship. We never have.”
“It didn’t look that way.” She traces circles on the white linen tablecloth with one finger, watching the movement. She stills and raises her gaze to mine. “What do you want? What’s your idea of ‘going forward’?”
I take a deep breath. “You and me. Together. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night on the balcony at Jack’s birthday all those months ago. And if I’m entirely honest, since before that, too. That’s why seeing all your sketches of me”—a blush rises to her cheeks—“was a relief. A surprise, sure, but mostly a relief because it allowed me to admit what I’ve always known.”
She cups her hand over her mouth, elbow propped on the table. A tear trickles from her lashes, trailing a path down her cheek. “Which is?”
“That you’re the one. You’ve always been the one. The only one. I might not have drawn any pictures, but if I had even half your talent I would have sketched you a million times over. I would have drawn nothing but you. You amaze me. Your talent, your dedication, your strength. You’re incredible, Kate.” My heart has never beaten this fast before. I run a hand through my hair to calm myself and hold her gaze. “I love you. I’m completely, utterly, obsessively, in love with you.”
Her face crumples, tears flowing more freely now. She sniffles, aggressively wiping them away with the back of her hand. “If we do this, do we have to keep it secret?”
“Fuck, no.” I reach across the table and she puts her hand in mine. God, it feels good to touch her. Her fingers tighten against my palm. “No more secrets. If you want to be with me, I’ll tell the whole fucking world about it.”
KATE
We’re barely out of the lift and he’s stalking me down the corridor, so close behind that if I slow for a second, we’ll collide.
We talked everything through over dinner. Not that I could eat much. Nico’s proximity sent my body into a frenzy, humming with anticipation, knowing I would likely find myself here, outside my hotel room, with his body pressed up against mine before midnight.
The tension from the beginning of the evening has returned in full force, but there’s a distinct quality to it now… less awkward, more explosive. It’s not as though we haven’t slept together before, but this feels way more potent… like we’re on a precipice. And once we go over the edge, everything will be different.
As long as he’s still walking behind me, I can handle it. But if he were to stop for even a second, the lurking fear he’s going to disappear might break me. He might slip through my fingers like the fragments of a dream in early morning. If we can just get inside the room…
I stop at the door, fumbling to get the card out of my pocket. I can’t find it. Where is it? I flip open my shoulder bag, rifling through it, too nervous to search in any way that’s effective.
Nico’s large hand braces against the door by my head. “Having second thoughts?”
The scent of him intensifies; I can feel the warmth of his body against my back, the gentle touch of his breath on my neck.
My body pulses with need. If I can’t get this door open, we’re doing it against it. I reach my arm into my bag up to the elbow, fingers scrabbling amidst the contents. If I don’t find the key this time, I’m chucking the bag on the floor.
“Absolutely not.”
“Thank fuck,” he mutters into my nape before pressing a kiss there. Electricity warps my spine and I arch into him, my arse grazing against his erection. Anticipation I can barely contain bubbles beneath my skin. “Because if I have to live another second of my life with that face-smash in the cab as the last time we kissed, it’ll fucking kill me.”
A laugh escapes me as I finally clasp the key card and slam it against the reader, waiting for the light to turn green and the mechanical lock to click.
We fall into the room in a tangle of limbs. I drop my bag and kick the door closed. He pins me against it, one hand on my hip. His fingers are unforgiving as they dig into my flesh. His mouth crashes onto mine, his tongue eagerly sweeping through my lips. There is nothing awkward about this kiss. It’s raw, wild and lights my body up from head to toe: he’s the torch to my taper, and every cell in my body bursts into flame.
I have never wanted anyone the way I want him. I claw at his jacket, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, to run my fingers over the hard edges of his muscles. Nico shrugs out of it without breaking our kiss. I’m aware of nothing but the pull of his body to mine, and the desperation that blisters between us.
I tear at the buttons on his shirt and one pops off and rolls across the floor. He growls into my mouth, and I pull back. We stare at the button, our breathing jagged and hot in the air.
“Thousand dollar shirt?”
“Yup,” he says, barely pausing for breath before he’s on me again, hands sliding under my thighs, hiking me up.
I link my arms around his neck, legs around his hips. His fingers slip all the way until he’s cupping my arse, holding my entire bodyweight. His hard cock nestles against the tender spot between my legs, the friction sending a heady rush of lust through my system and a gush of wetness into my underwear.
He drops me on the bed before ripping off his own shirt. More buttons pop and I can’t help but laugh. He grins wolfishly as he stands at the end of the bed, his glorious chest exposed, the ridges of his abs perfectly defined.
“Sew them on for me later?” he asks.
I lurch across the wide bed and grab the free hotel sewing kit from the bedside table. “Sew your own buttons,” I say, chucking it at him.
He ducks, emits a growl and lunges towards me, eyes flashing equal parts amusement and heat. I squeal, delighted, and crawl up the bed, but I don’t get far before his hands clamp round my ankles and drag me back down.
He flips me onto my back and kneels at the end of the bed, his palms spread on my thighs, pinning me in place.
Chest heaving, I raise my eyes to his and I swear the contact burns. Keeping his eyes on me, he slides his hand up my thigh, grazing the lace of my underwear. He pushes the gusset aside, stroking my wet pussy with his thumb.
Closing his eyes, he inhales through his nose. “You are going to be the death of me.” He wrenches my panties off and the fabric rips. He smirks. “But what a way to go.”
I laugh as he eases the remnants out from under me and tosses them to the floor. At this rate, neither of us is going to have anything to wear tomorrow.
He removes the rest of his clothes in record time, and stands at the end of the bed, his dick huge and angry-looking. I raise an eyebrow and bite my lip as I eye it.
“Forgot what it looks like?” he murmurs.
“Kinda.”
He leans over the bed, leveraging himself on braced forearms. He’s holding himself over me, entirely naked, lining up our bodies. “Let me remind you,” he says, his tip gliding across my stomach, through my pubic hair and down to my entrance before pushing into me with one hard thrust.
Air escapes my lips in a gasp, but I’m wet enough to welcome him with a delicious stretch that eases from pain to pleasure in seconds. He grabs at my dress, pulling it up and over my head, and I wriggle out of it. I unhook my bra and ease out of that, too. There’s nothing between us now, his skin soft and warm, but firm with muscle beneath. He stares greedily at my breasts, before sucking my nipple into his mouth, first one, then the other, teasing them into hardened points. When his lips are gone, my nipples tingle, the air in the room cold against the tender skin.
He withdraws slowly and thrusts into me again so hard that my teeth chatter.
Fuck .
I pull him deep within me and hold him there, my hands on his arse as his cock reaches the deepest parts, a potent swelling sensation building in my core. He’s mine. This man is all mine. The thought expands, and a ball of emotion forms in my throat.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he mutters, a tinge of awe in his voice like he’s been sharing my thoughts.
I reach my arms around his neck, pulling our bodies closer together, hiking my knees up over his hips to give him better access. My arousal surges with each of his rough grunts against my neck. His hips grind against my clit and a thrilling pressure builds between my thighs, melding with that deeper vibration. Desperate, I roll my hips against his, seeking more and more friction as I head towards orgasm.
He shifts my legs over his shoulders and drives deeper. His gaze, fixed on mine with an unwavering focus, feels like a promise, binding cords around my heart. His fingers press into my flesh like he’ll never let go and each brutal thrust feels raw, like together we’re forging a new version of us.
I can’t get enough of him, and when my climax bursts like a fountain, it showers every part of my body with sparks of electricity.
“Oh, Nico, God, don’t stop. Don’t let go,” I say as I come undone around him, my world fracturing into little more than light and energy and Nico Hawkston between my thighs, shuddering to his own orgasm.
We lie, a mess of sweat-slicked skin and uneven breaths. He braces himself on an elbow, brushes a strand of hair from my face, and presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. “If I did nothing but worship you for the rest of my life, I would die happy.”
The smile on his face sends warmth to my soul. I trail my fingers down his back. “Oh yeah? What about business?”
“You’re my business now.”
My cheeks ache from smiling. “I’m not nearly as profitable as the Hawkston Hotels. Your share price would plummet.”
He chuckles. “Ah, but it would be worth it. Because you’re worth every single penny. And more.”
“More?”
His eyes dance, his face beautiful, full of immeasurable joy. The fact that it’s me he’s looking at will never cease to blow my mind.
“Of course, more. The most. Because there’s only one you, and I love you. I fucking love you, Kate Lansen. You’re one in a million. One in a billion. One in—”
I press a finger to his lips. His eyes widen for a second, but when I smile, amusement surges through his dark irises again. “I love you too,” I whisper. “Always.”