Chapter 20 #2
“Ha….” My attempt at nonchalance came out more like a breathless choke. “How would you feel if I dictated your undergarments?”
He met my gaze directly, his expression and tone serious. “I wouldn’t object.”
Another staring match ensued. My heart quickened. I suddenly could not stand the fact that he was holding my bra, his thumb drawing circles over the center of the cup with a reverence that the material didn’t deserve. I deserved that touch, and I was jealous of my underwear.
I needed him to stop.
“Stop doing that. Put it down.” I charged over to where he stood and reached for my brassiere.
He held it above his head and to the side.
His eyes watched me with a scorching intensity as I reached for the undergarment again, bumping against him as I clawed at his arm.
I didn’t realize at first, but he’d turned slightly and was backing me up.
By the time I successfully reached and held the bra, he was emphatically filling every molecule of my personal space, and I was trapped, my back against the closet door.
I was also breathing heavily. My chest touched his with every rise and fall.
He was looking at my mouth and licking his lips, slowly, drawing the full bottom one—the one I often thought of as juicy—between his teeth and sucking, biting it before releasing it. My eyelids felt heavy. In fact, I felt heavy all over.
And I felt hot. I felt hot and heavy all over.
He was so close I could count the individual eyelashes that fanned against his cheek.
Nico leaned forward and I thought, just for a spare second, that he was going to kiss me.
If he kissed me, I was planning to kiss the hell out of him.
Instead, his mouth moved to my ear and his knee moved between my legs, his thigh against my center.
He tasted the tip of my ear, his hot breath fanning against my neck, and I shuddered.
“Elizabeth….”
I whimpered in response and his leg shifted, causing a delicious friction between my thighs. I automatically gripped his shoulders to steady myself.
He trailed hot, tender kisses from my ear to my neck. I lifted to my tiptoes, my fingers found their way into his hair, and I pressed him closer, arching against him.
I needed to kiss him—like, needed to kiss him!
I needed his mouth, and I needed to bite his bottom lip, and I needed to feel the wet warmth of his tongue against mine.
But, before I could make my need my reality, he pulled away, turned away, and walked away.
He left me, back against the door, gasping for breath, and with the worst blue bean of my life.
Blue bean being, of course, the female equivalent of blue balls.
My lashes fluttered open, and I was thankful to have the solid weight of the door behind me. If I’d been left adrift in the middle of the room, I might have fallen over or crumpled into an embarrassing puddle of arousal on the floor.
“Nico?” I flinched at how small and unsure my voice sounded. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything further; not until I had a plan, and not until that plan involved hot monkey sex.
He didn’t turn. He stood in profile, his hands on his hips. He also seemed to be breathing with some difficulty. He swallowed then cleared his throat. “You should….” His voice caught and he cleared his throat again, this time louder. “You should get ready. The reservation is for seven-thirty.”
I held my breath and waited for him to say something else. When he said nothing, I felt my eye twitch. “What?”
“I’m sorry about—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t very…friendly of me.”
I stared at his exasperatingly beautiful face. It took a full ten seconds for his words to sink in. When they did, I felt like I was being torn into several small pieces.
“I don’t want to be friends anymore.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder, his eyebrow lifting along with a corner of his mouth.
“Being friends isn’t optional.” He stalked back to me, his steps full of swagger, his eyes full of blazing machismo.
“We can be friends and something else…” he lifted his hand to my temple and tucked a loosened strand of hair behind my ear, “…but we’re always going to be friends. ”
I smacked his hand away. “No. We’re not. We’re not friends anymore. I don’t want to see you again.”
“Why not?”
I lifted my chin. “Because I’m tired of your games.”
He had the audacity to look pleased with himself. “Games? What games?”
“That. Right there. What just happened a second ago, and the pornographic shirtless apple fritter scene last Sunday, and the ‘friend kiss’ and the straddling last night. You’re playing with me, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m not playing with you.”
“Yes. You are. You know that I want you….” I swallowed the end of my sentence, suddenly out of breath.
His eyes flashed at my words, and he shifted forward.
I placed a hand on his chest to keep him from coming any closer, having already admitted too much.
“You know how much I want you, and you’re trying to use it against me; you’re teasing me with it to cloud my judgment. ”
“If you want me then take me.” His words, impatient, sounded like an order.
“It’s not that simple. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Nico’s eyes tangled with mine and ensnared me.
“I will.” I wasn’t so certain anymore.
“It’s too late. You already have me.”
I shivered. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“You’re not being fair.”
Nico flinched, and pain flickered through his green eyes.
He struck the wall next to my head, causing me to jump.
“I don’t want to be fair! I’m not interested in being nice!
You’re right. I’m playing games with you, and I’m playing dirty because I want you, I need you—I need to be with you, to hear your voice, your laugh, to hold you, to touch you… .”
I held back a sob and he pressed closer, making my hand against his chest irrelevant. “I can’t love you back.”
“That’s a lie.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head in weary defiance. “It’s not. I can’t. I won’t do it.”
We stood like that—my hand separating us, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the beating of his heart—for an excruciating moment. Then he covered my hand with his. I opened my eyes in time to see him bring it to his lips, kiss it, then step away.
I lifted my eyes, and he caught them at once. Instead of the anger or recrimination I was expecting, I found only steady determination.
Nico tugged at the lapels of his jacket and smoothed his hand down his tie. “Are you coming to dinner?”
I shook my head.
“Ok, then.” He winked and said, “Game on.”