Amelia
More than skeptical and tinged with panic, I clumsily climb onto this hellish-looking machine behind Nicolas.
Even though he’s wearing a helmet, I can clearly see his mocking grin, but I hold back from responding.
I’m too busy trying to steady my racing heart as he starts the motorcycle.
The engine’s vibrations ripple through my entire body, and when he steps on the gas, I cling to him fearfully like a little monkey.
I can feel his laughter shaking through his back, so summoning my courage, I lift one hand off his waist and slap him, which makes him laugh even harder, before he suddenly accelerates.
Asshole.
I’m slammed against him and cling to him even tighter.
Holy shit.
At first, he rides slowly and carefully, guiding us safely out of the city, which still lies quiet and sleepy in the early dawn.
But the moment we cross the city limits, he steps on the gas, really steps on the gas.
The wind tugs fiercely at me, my stomach flips, and adrenaline surges wildly through my veins.
The first curve appears, Nicolas leans the bike sharply, and I scream, whether from fear or the rush, I can’t tell.
But as we push deeper into the countryside, I begin to sense his rhythm, his style, and the true meaning of what Nicolas gave me earlier.
Freedom.
He has actually given me freedom. No pressure, no media, no hatred, no beatings, nothing at all. Just me. Me, Nicolas, and this speed.
I begin to understand why he loves it. Why he needs it.
We ride for at least two hours, and I relax more the farther away we get from Harlington, starting to take in the landscape around me. The tall, rocky mountains sharply outlined on the horizon, the green hills rising gently before them, and the sea visible in the distance on the other side.
A bittersweet mix of loss and joy spreads through my chest because I feel free and happy to be experiencing this now. To be able to see this. At the same time, I become aware of the extent of what my parents and brother have kept from me. What they have taken from me.
Nicolas turns onto a forest trail that I almost miss, and shortly after, we stop in front of a cozy cottage. It’s not huge but beautiful. Somehow romantic. Both real and unreal at once.
A bit stiffly, I get off the bike and realize that my muscles feel sore and that my butt hurts. Groaning, I pull off my helmet while Nicolas parks his motorcycle sideways next to the cottage, so it can’t be seen from the front. Sad, but necessary.
“Looks like you survived the ride in one piece, but why do you have that sour expression on your face?” Nicolas closes the distance between us and stands in front of me, studying me carefully.
“My butt hurts,” I reply shortly, and he bursts out laughing.
“That’s all you’ve got? But if it makes you feel better, I’ll take care of your beautiful backside later.” He leans toward me again, and my heart immediately starts pounding faster as he presses a kiss on the top of my head, just like that.
This soft and gentle side of him is unfamiliar, and yet I crave exactly that. He cares for me. It’s so new, so strange, and yet I soak it up like a sponge.
“Come on now, I’ll show you everything, because for the next few days you belong entirely to me.
” He looks at me intently and holds out his hand, which I take, completely overwhelmed by the emotional turmoil raging inside me.
Butterflies in my stomach, nerves, and fear make me stumble behind him like I’m high.
I’m amazed when I enter the little stone house.
It’s so cozy and inviting, yet still modern and not old-fashioned at all.
The lower level is one big room where the kitchen and dining area flow seamlessly into the comfortable living room.
The highlight is the open fireplace right in front of a wide, very comfy-looking couch.
Everything here radiates warmth, and I immediately feel at home.
“Dreamy. I never want to leave,” I exclaim, enchanted, and Nicolas smiles as he lifts me onto the large granite countertop in the kitchen.
“You don’t have to leave for the next few days. Are you hungry? Or is your stomach too sensitive after the ride?” He grins cheekily, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me you can cook? And no, my stomach is fine. It was… it was amazing,” I honestly admit, which draws a smile from him that nearly makes me faint.
Good God, this man is going to be my absolute downfall.
“I can cook, Goldilocks—I was in the army, where you pick up at least the basics. The rest, my brother showed me back at my city apartment because I wanted to learn. Believe it or not, I’m not into eating takeout every day.
I’d much rather cook for myself.” His words make my heart ache, but at the same time, it feels good because I’m slowly realizing Phil and Nicolas weren’t so different after all.
“Phil always said the same thing,” I smile wistfully. Nicolas instantly grows serious, and I see the sadness in his eyes.
“Yeah, he always said a man should also be able to…”
“…take care of himself,” I finish, and we both laugh.
“Yeah, that’s how he was. I miss him, Goldilocks. He would’ve known exactly what I had to do… and probably would have kicked my ass more than once.”
You can hear in every word how deeply he misses his brother, which makes me rethink my original impression of him. Philipp clearly meant a great deal to him, quite the opposite of what I first thought.
Impulsively, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest. His heart skips a beat, and I have to smile briefly because apparently, he reacts to me too, not just me to him.
“Why are you so… so…” I search for the right words as his chest vibrates and he laughs softly, hugging me back and resting his chin on my head.
“So arrogant? Rebellious? Selfish? Is that what you mean?” A little caught, I hide my face in his shirt, even though he can’t see it, and he laughs even more.
“Don’t worry, Goldilocks, you’re not the first to think that of me.
And it’s true to some extent. When you have a father you can never please, who keeps reminding you over and over that you’re not good enough, that you’re not what he expects you to be…
well, you become like that eventually.” He lets out a deep sigh before continuing, and I begin to understand, quite clearly.
“At first, I tried everything to please him all the time. But it was never enough. Then I joined the army, and after that, I didn’t give a damn what he thought. I did my own thing,” he finishes, and his voice has turned hard. It weighs on him. It bothers him.
Well, so much for arrogant and self-righteous, huh?
“You’ll never be able to please everyone, no matter how hard you try. I’ve learned that by now,” I murmur, more to myself than to him, but of course he hears it.
“It’s no different with you, right? Sorry, Goldilocks, for saying this, but your brother is an arrogant asshole.” My heart skips a beat, then races at the mention of Henry, and a flicker of fear that he knows something flashes through me. Still, I can’t suppress a snort.
“He is. Especially since my parents died. But I don’t know any different.
They weren’t any better, quite the opposite.
” Now I have to watch what I say, because Nicolas is making it incredibly easy for me to pour out my heart.
But I can’t. I just can’t. Even thinking about saying it makes me break out in sweat and feel sick.
“That’s why you’re like this in public, right? So controlled and proper and good.”
I lean back a little and see his eyes darken and sparkle as he looks at me.
“You’re not as prudish as you seem. On the contrary…”
He doesn’t finish, but leans down toward me, and kisses me. Slow and sensual. His tongue asks for entry, and I gladly grant it.
The excited stumbling in my chest and the fluttering inside me suddenly intensify as he strips off my motorcycle jacket, never once taking his lips from mine.
He only pauses to shed his own jacket, then his shirt.
Immediately the feeling of pure desire floods through my body again.
My hands glide over his taut stomach and he hums in agreement against my mouth.
“I think we’ll eat later… I have to… fuck.”
My hand wanders over the bulge in his pants, completely throwing him off, and he curses softly, pressing himself harder against my touch.
“Yeah… definitely eat later,” he murmurs, nibbling my lip before planting soft kisses on my neck and bringing his mouth close to my ear.
“Arms up,” he commands roughly, and I raise them so he can pull the hoodie over my head. “So beautiful.” As if hypnotized, he stares at me, and my mouth goes dry under that intense gaze.
“That has to come off too. And fast.” He snaps at my bra, reaches behind me, and seconds later lets it fall to the floor. His mouth sucks on my nipple while his free hand teases the other.
“Ohhhh,” I moan softly, and his touch sends electric shocks straight between my legs.
Damn.
He teases me relentlessly until he suddenly pulls away, only to grab my waistband, kiss me deeply, and undo my jeans. He takes his time, plenty of time, but when we’re finally both naked and I’m about to beg him because I want him so badly, he simply shakes his head.
“Not here. Wrap your legs around me,” he asks, and I do as he says, whining when I feel his hardness against my pussy.
“Hmmmm, someone’s impatient,” he smiles, pulling my lower lip between his teeth as he carries me to the couch. But instead of laying me down, he sits with me, and before my knees even land on the couch to either side of him, he presses me down and fully sinks into me.
Oh God.
Oh God!
I don’t know which way is up or down. This feels completely different from the other times.
“Move, Lia,” he pants breathlessly, his self-control hanging by a thread, all because of me. And that gives me such incredible confidence that I start moving seductively. Slowly. Without hurry.
Nicolas groans deeply, his hands firmly gripping my ass, pulling me tighter against him, and I let out a pained sound because it’s far from enough.
His lips tease and torment my breasts while I ride him, letting him take the lead.
It feels different, more intense. And as the tension rises inside me, my core pulsing and contracting around him, I surrender and fireworks explode within me.
My orgasm lasts for an incredibly long time, which is why Nicolas follows shortly after.
Smiling, I lean my head on his shoulder to catch my breath as his fingers gently trace up and down my spine.
“We wanted to get to know each other, not have sex all the time.”
Nicolas bursts out laughing.
“Well, I think we’re getting to know each other pretty damn well right now,” he chuckles, his whole upper body vibrating.
“THAT‘S not quite what I meant, but glad it amuses you,” I reply dryly, and he laughs even more.
“Oh, I don’t mind this way of getting to know each other, on the contrary.” He lifts his hips slightly, and even though it tingles irresistibly and I clearly feel him getting harder again, I get up with a grimace, and my stomach growls loudly.
“Take it easy, cowboy. I need to shower and I’m hungry. Really hungry. So how about you prove those highly praised cooking skills of yours, so your poor wife doesn’t starve? “Though to shower, I need to know where the bathroom is. Damn it, do I even have fresh clothes with me?”
Nicolas must be reading my thoughts from my expression because he stands there grinning and looks down at me.
“Come on, I’ll shower with you, and after that, I’m your kitchen slave. And before you ask, yes, we have clothes here. Upstairs in the bedroom. Deal?” I beam at him.
Deal.