Chapter 13
NICOLETTE
The sun filters through the ivory curtains as my eyes strain against the blistering light. I slept like shit again, and there was no way I was going to let him drive me around like the other day. I’d rather sleep like utter crap than be in the same car as him right now.
My eyelids weigh a million pounds from all the crying I did last night. The pillow is still damp with my tears.
He never even slept in the bedroom last night. I don’t know why it hurts knowing he never came. It should make me happy that he stayed away, that he didn’t hear me crying. But it doesn’t. It only makes me sad.
I wish I could keep my distance, but it’s nearly impossible here in the small confines of this space. The bedroom is one square room with a black king-sized four-poster bed and a plain wooden dresser. A shaggy ivory rug sits at the foot of the bed.
I actually love this cabin. It’s nice and cozy. If it wasn’t for the fact that I have to share it with a man who wants nothing to do with me, I might actually enjoy it here.
I don’t need a large house to make me happy. All I want is somewhere I can call home with someone to call it home with. But I can lie to myself all I want…the only home I’ve ever known was him.
Telling him I was over him was the biggest lie I ever told. Being over Raph is like being without air. It’s an impossibility. Something I’ll never live without. He’s always going to be a part of me, and it’s time I came to terms with that.
Years from now, he’ll still be holding my heart in his palm. Because it’s been his for as long as I can remember.
Begrudgingly, I sit up, stretching and yawning before I swing my feet on to the floor, knowing I have to face him eventually. May as well get it over with. My stomach growls as I head for the door, and as soon as I open it, a whiff of eggs and coffee hits me all at once.
Stepping out, I hear the clacking of something, and his rummaging grows louder. Turning the corner, I find him with a plate in hand, and as soon as he hears me, he pivots.
“Coffee?” he asks in a guarded tone, lowering his gaze to my chest, where my fingers nonchalantly swipe across my collarbone.
“Sure,” I murmur, my skin pebbling with wanton need.
It’s unfathomable to be around him and not grow insanely aroused. Which is really unfair, if you ask me.
He heads toward the coffee machine, and I release a silent exhale, pulling out one of the chairs and sink into it.
By now, he knows just how I enjoy my caffeine, adding some milk and sugar while I watch the muscles of his back ripple from beneath his white t-shirt. When he returns his attention to me, there’s not only the coffee in his hand, but a plate for me too.
“What did you make?” I attempt some small talk to stop myself from thinking inappropriately about him.
“Your favorite.” His gravelly tone is a sure-fire way right into my panties.
My body grows tight and aware. And when those eyes hold mine, it’s as though there’s something unspoken within them, like he wants to spill his heart. But knowing Raph, I know he won’t.
He places the food and coffee before me. And when I glance down at the steaming plate, emotions instantly clog the back of my throat.
“You remembered?” I stare at him in disbelief.
My favorite breakfast is something I’ve told him in passing once or twice. I can’t believe he remembered. Two eggs over easy with a side of hash browns. That’s a way to my heart.
“I remember everything about you, little one. Every single detail.”
The way he says that, it’s as though the fact that he does remember it at all tears him up inside.
“I’m sorry, Nicolette. For everything.” He sighs, grabbing his own plate and sitting across from me.
“You’re right. I haven’t been fair in the way I’ve been acting around you.
It’s going to stop today.” He plays with his food, gazing down at the table.
“I’m not right for you. I never was, and I never will be. ”
My heart squeezes vengefully, and I grab the fork and stab at the eggs, popping a piece of it into my mouth, refusing to venture a gaze at him. Knowing if I do, my emotions will spiral.
“Are you listening to me?” he calls. “I hurt people. Kill them. I know you don’t want to hear it. But I’m not the one you want.”
I grind my teeth, wanting to say so much, it’s practically dripping out of my lips. Seconds trickle by, and I’m unable to keep silent for another moment more.
I drop my fork with a clank against the plate and sear him with a glare. “How about you stop deciding what’s right or wrong for me? How about I make that decision?”
“Nicolette…” he whispers, dropping his head into his palm.
“No, don’t do that,” I clip out and he peers back at me. “If you’re seriously unwilling to give us a shot, then how about you stop saying things like you’ll hurt any man who touches me? How about you stop calling me your fucking treasure, for fuck’s sake! Way to send mixed signals.”
The muscle in his jaw tics as I go on, staring right at him. How dare he torture me this way?
“And while we’re at it…” I snap. “How about you stop looking at me like I mean something to you.”
My tone ignites, breaking with every word, pain rippling through me like wave after wave of heartbreak. A sea of never-ending loss and drowning grief.
In one swift move, he’s on his feet, towering over me, filling my body with heat.
With a quick jerk, he turns my chair so that I face him, and I gasp from the sudden movement, from his all-imposing presence as he looms over me.
His chest rises with compounding breaths, his gaze slowly slinking to my parted mouth.
His hand balls into a fist on the table before he grabs my jaw, the pads of his fingers delving into my flesh as he forces my face up to meet his feverish stare.
“You do mean something to me, God damn it,” he growls low under his breath, his words carrying the timbre of a man losing control.
“Do you know how insane it makes me to want you the way I do and not be able to have you? To picture some other man’s hands where mine belong?
To want to kill any of them who dares to touch what’s mine? ”
His?
I swallow the knot in my throat, gasping for breaths that never come.
“Once you kissed me…” he continues. “It was all I could think about.”
He drops his hand away, and suddenly he’s scooping me up and placing me on top of the table, cupping my face in between his hands. His eyes search mine, and there’s so much emotion drawn up on his features, it swells inside my chest. I can feel it beating through me.
My legs wind around his thighs, not wanting to let go. Afraid that if I do, I’ll let go of whatever is happening between us.
His knuckles brush down my cheek as those eyes take in every inch of my face.
“I don’t know how to live without constant thoughts of you.” His voice cracks, and my own emotions come seeping out.
I close my eyes, unable to get a hold of myself, needing to pretend this isn’t happening. Because I know he’ll regret it again. He’ll regret touching me.
But instead the next thing I feel is the sensation of his firm lips slowly brushing down my neck, his hot breaths tickling up my ear. I stifle a moan.
Can this really be happening?
The thrill of it fills my bloodstream, my gut coiling with maddening need. I rub my core on the table as the span of his large hand grips hard around my nape.
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he whispers, his fingertips biting into me like he’s marking me for life. “And I’m fucking tired of trying to do the right thing. This right here…” He kisses the underside of my jaw, teeth scoring my skin, groaning as he does. “This is me being weak.”
Sparks ignite and sizzle down to my clit, my body drumming with every bit of pent-up lust I’ve ached with all these years.
His lips trail roughly down my throat, my pulse thrumming beneath his skillful mouth. “I’m not used to being weak, Nicolette.”
He sucks and nips and tastes. I force my eyes shut, feeling everything he does to me, buried in carnal heat.
Touch me, I want to beg, but I’m afraid all it will do is make him stop.
“Oh, God,” I cry, snapping my eyes open when the back of his hand traces the underside of my breast.
“Not God,” he groans, yanking my hair in his powerful fist. “Me. This is me and you, and don’t you forget it.”
Don’t think I possibly can.
I drink in his fired gaze, and the possessive way he holds me has me wanting to feel him sink inside me, right on this table, or maybe pinned down on the floor like an animal.
I gasp when he draws my earlobe into his hot mouth and groans, and the sounds coming out of me don’t even sound like me.
He peppers kisses around the edge of my jaw, his lips landing on the corner of mine, so close, I can almost taste him.
“You’re all I want too…” I confess, my hand snapping to the back of his head, fingers curling in his thick hair, driving him closer.
My body and mind haven’t caught up to what’s happening. Can this be real? My heartbeats explode in my chest, my hips gyrating on the table.
He jerks my head back, until I have little choice but to meet the fiery blaze burning in his eyes.
“Don’t say that,” he rasps, lowering his other hand to the top of my thigh and squeezing, his jaw tensing as he pins me with a sinful stare.
“I won’t lie to you, Raph. I want you so badly I ache. All the time. Everywhere. Just for you.”
“Fuck,” he rasps, tightening his fist in my hair.
The back of my hand strokes down his cheek and he closes his eyes, inhaling long and deep.
“Please, Raph.” I slide my other palm under his shirt, and feeling his muscles twitch under my touch sets me off even further.
My touch affects him just as much as his affects me.
His gaze pins me deeper, his breaths plundering out of him. And in his eyes, I find a man lost. Someone who wants to give in to the fire only we can create. If only he’d throw the match and watch the flames engulf us.
He inches closer, fitting his hips in between my thighs, and that bulge is hard to miss. He grinds his jaw, his eyes searching mine.
I want to win the war that’s brewing in his heart. I want him to choose me. Just this once.
“Please,” I plead once more, seeing the indecision on his face. “Ple—”
And this time, he smashes his mouth against mine and ends all the days of torture. All air leaves my lungs and there’s nothing gentle about the way he takes me. Raw passion spills between us, and he kisses me like he’s released every ounce of longing he’s carried for years.
My fingers ride up his back, wanting to tear off his shirt, and he groans when I scratch up his spine, my own moans vibrating against his heady lips.
He curls my long hair around his wrist and tugs my head back, his fierce eyes blazing with wicked, unspeakable things.
“Tell me this is okay.” His voice strains. “That I can have you.”
I fight his grasp, wanting to kiss him once more, desire pooling in between my willing thighs.
“Yes,” I say. “You never have to ask.”
Then his mouth is on me again, his palm rounding my quivering throat, his thumb driving deeper into my pulse as his tongue circles mine.
His teeth nip my bottom lip, his cock thick and hard against my belly.
The sensation pulses through the length of me.
What I wouldn’t do to touch it. To feel it inside me.
I’m so ready to lose my virginity. I know he’d be gentle.
He’d care if I was feeling good. He’d make sure of it.
Maybe if I told him, he’d want to be my first so that no one else is.
Isn’t that what most men want? To be a woman’s first?
“So beautiful,” he rasps, right before sucking my lower lip into his mouth, his other hand slipping into my hair. “I need to taste you. Everywhere.”
My body coils from his confession, and I’d wish on every star in the sky for Raph Marino to be mine.
“Have me,” I breathe.
And with nerves and lust and all these feelings surging inside me, I tell him the one thing I never told anyone but Brenda.
“Touch me,” I pant desperately. “Be my first.”
My heart pounds in my ears when the words slip out.
He groans, his fingertips massaging my scalp right before he stops abruptly. Forcing himself back, he peers at me, confusion upturning his features.
“First?” He loosens off of me a little, his hands falling gradually to his sides. “Are you saying…”
I nod, tugging on the corner of my lower lip, cheeks burning with humiliation.
“Fuck,” he mutters, stepping backward until there’s too much space between us. “Fuuuck.” He pauses, shaking his head. “You’re a virgin?”
His incredulous voice has shame slapping my cheeks.
“How?” He roves me with a hungered gaze. “How the hell is that possible?”
Shame fills my face.
“You told me…” He shuts his eyes and drags in a long breath through his nostrils. “You lied?”
“Yes…” I admit on a whispered sigh.
He stares up at the ceiling as he tugs his hair with both hands.
“I was angry when you rejected me,” I explain. “And I wanted you to think…I don’t know, that guys wanted me? But there’s been no one.”
He dares a glance, a troubled expression on his face.
“Don’t reject me,” I say. “Not again.”
“God damn it…” He swiftly moves right up against me and clasps my cheeks. “Tesoro mio, I can’t be the one who takes your virginity. I can’t be that man.”
His voice is soft and tragic. He drops his forehead against mine. And when he stares back at me, I know he’s going to crush my heart all over again.
“Losing your virginity is something you’ll look back on and remember. And the last thing I want you to remember is me. The man who’s never going to be worthy of you.”
Pain throbs in my chest and tears sting my eyes even as I fight like hell not to cry. But they force their way out, and his thumbs are there, wiping them away.
“Please forgive me, little one.” Emotions fill his own eyes. “I never meant to be the one to hurt you. I—”
My stomach churns.
Say it. Just say you love me.
“You what?” I cry. Waiting. Hoping…
Just need to hear you say it.
“I’m sorry,” he says instead. “I thought I could go through with this.” He angles back. “I wanted you desperately enough to give in, just once, but knowing you’re a virgin… I can’t.”
His finger traces tenderly under my eyes and he kisses my cheek, his tormented gaze boring into mine.
“Don’t say another word.” My grief-stricken words fill the hollowed space between us, my heart splitting into two.
He sighs with hopelessness.
“Be happy.” He says the words I once said to him so long ago.
It’s funny and poignant how things come in full circle that way.
Being happy without you is impossible.