Chapter 17
Aubergine.
He trusted me.
“Yeah?” I smiled as my heart melted into a puddle. “You do?”
Nicola nodded, staring at me with heavy lidded eyes. “Of course.”
Like it was obvious. He had no clue he just made it impossible to not love him.
I scooted down his legs. My heart rate spiked as eyes fixed on his sweatpants and the hard bulge there.
I had never seen Nicola completely naked. Well... almost. Back in his early twenties, he spent most of his time wandering around the Moretti house in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.
That had been both a blessing and a curse for a woman desperately in love with him.
But the whole deal? Nope.
I swallowed. I’d done this before. I just… hadn’t ever really wanted to.
Yet, the thought alone of giving Nicola the same pleasure and attentiveness he’d given me warmed my whole body. I wanted him to feel good. It wasn’t another relationship obligation to get through, or another box to check.
I actually wanted this.
My eyes lifted to his. When our eyes met, his hand came up and his thumb brushed softly over my cheek.
“You don’t have–”
“I want to.” I interjected, adamant. My hands slowly worked over his waistband, then tugged down. Nicola wriggled his hip just enough for the fabric to slide down, and his hard cock sprang out.
I didn’t want him to think I was nervous, or uncomfortable, so I grasped the base of his shaft and gave it a long, experimental stroke. He was warm and throbbing under my hand. I could barely reach around all the way.
Nicola’s breathing turned slow and heavy as he watched me with quiet intensity. I tucked long strands of hair behind my ear and then bent down to roll my tongue around the head teasingly. The saltiness of his precum hit my tastebuds immediately– another part of the process I usually hated.
But… it was him. So I greedily parted my lips instead, and eagerly brought more of his cock into my mouth. I glanced up at him, making sure he was paying attention as I worked my way down, almost to the base. As I drew back up, my tongue circled around to coat it entirely in my saliva.
“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. His hands fidgeted until he brought them behind his head like a propped pillow.
Knowing he was watching me like a hawk, I drew my tongue up and down, sucking softly along the ridge, then down the underside.
His hips bucked beneath me and I caught myself smirking. So he was sensitive there.
I brought him into my mouth and drew downward until I could feel the head of his cock touching the back of my throat. I relaxed my throat, bringing him in and then out.
“Abby–” he groaned and I felt my pussy actually pulsate and clench at the sound. I’d never heard him moan like that before. It was fucking addictive. And I was doing this to him. I was making him feel good.
I kept a fast tempo, shutting my eyes and focused on the little quiet, strained sounds he made. Emboldened now, my palm gently cupped his balls and fondled.
“Like that,” he said suddenly. “Exactly like that. Fuck.”
I melted again, my pussy clenched down on nothing. It was the vulnerability. It was the adoring tone.
Did he act like this with all the women he slept with, I wondered?
I pushed that troublesome thought aside and kept going. His hips began to meet my movements, his hand rested on the top of my head and he set the pace. I liked feeling him take control, guide me and take what he needed.
“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, then laughed breathlessly as his eyes shut again. “Fuck, why didn’t we do this sooner?”
Because you’re clueless, I thought mildly.
“I’m close,” he warned. “Aubergine, you don’t have to sw–”
He gasped, his hips bucked beneath me. I could feel the hot ropes of his release shoot down my throat and I swallowed it down.
My eyes finally opened. Nicola had thrown his forearm over his face while he caught his breath.
One of the most powerful men in Manhattan lay completely undone beneath me. I supposed some women would’ve felt powerful seeing him like that.
I didn’t. If anything, it only made me want to protect him more.
Slowly, I climbed back up beside him. His hand slipped from my hair as I tugged his briefs and sweatpants back into place.
“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” he asked mildly, draping both spread hands over my bare thighs.
I smiled sweetly at him. “Would you like the short version or the long version?”
His eyes crinkled as I slowly bent forward and his arms enveloped me.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” I whispered, shutting my eyes. “We’re here, now.”
Nicola beautified himself in the bathroom while I started breakfast. Eggs were sizzling and cracking in a frying pan when my phone buzzed.
Pierce: hey, good morning!
Pierce: could we chat for a minute?
I frowned as I picked up the device and quickly padded out a response.
Me: what’s up?
Pierce: Just wondering if you’d be free for dinner or lunch?
I hesitated for a moment, before typing again.
Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not ready for that.
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Pierce: okay. I understand. And it’s Sunday so you usually have dinner with your dad, right? I hope he’s feeling better. Maybe coffee tomorrow instead?
He remembered.
Me: Maybe. Have a good day, Pierce.
I flipped my phone facedown.
A familiar scent of cedar and citrus drifted over me moments before warm arms wrapped around my waist. Nicola buried his face against my neck.
“What’s for breakfast?” he whispered.
“Eggs, toast—” My voice jumped an octave as his mouth closed over a patch of skin beneath my ear and began to suck.
“Don’t leave a hickey,” I whined. He smiled against my skin.
“I have to.” His teeth grazed my neck. “I’m marking my territory.”
I snorted. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is for me.”
He made it incredibly difficult not to ask what exactly we were doing here. ‘Marking territory’ sure sounded like he wanted us to be together.
“Go sit down,” I laughed, nudging him backward with my hip. “You’re distracting me and I’ll burn your eggs to a crisp.”
He sighed dramatically. “Fine.” He punctuated his surrender with a playful swat to my ass before wandering toward the counter.
A few minutes later, I set two plates down between us.
“You want orange juice, too?” His mug was empty. "Or another coffee?"
“Coffee," he answered.
Nicola had dressed in a crisp white button-up with the collar still undone, he looked absurdly at home sitting in my tiny kitchen with his legs crossed, his elbow propped on the counter.
Like he’d always belonged there.
“So...” I slid onto the stool beside him. “What do you have going on today?”
He looked up from his phone and set it aside.
“That depends.” He leaned over until the tip of his nose brushed mine. “What are you doing?”
“On Sundays, I always have dinner with Dad. It’s been our tradition ever since Mom died.”
He nodded thoughtfully, but then stared. My eyes darted around nervously when he didn’t say anything.
“Oh. Um. I figured you wouldn’t—”
“Why?” He looked genuinely confused. “You don’t think I’d want to come?”
“That’s not it.” I blinked. I assumed I was going to be a dirty little secret he kept swept under the rug. Not to mention, if my Dad saw us there together, it wouldn’t take a genius to put two-and-two together. “...You want to?”
“Of course I do. I haven’t seen your dad in weeks.” He reached for his fork. “Text me the address.”
I laughed. “You skipped the part where I actually invited you. Although… my Dad does really love you.”
“As he should.” He took a bite of eggs. “I’m delightful.”
I rolled my eyes. “So what about you?” I asked. “Work?”
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly. “I’ve gotta check in with Thomas at the house, then head back to the office.”
“What happened?”
“Someone tried breaking into one of our warehouses last night.”
I straightened up, surprised.
“It’s always something.” He ticked the problems off on his fingers. “Union leaders. Missing merchandise. The Ferraros.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that it made my chest tighten. Like carrying the weight of an entire crime family was no different than remembering to buy milk.
I reached across the counter and squeezed his hand. “They’re lucky to have you.”
“I don’t know about all that.” His smile was polite and weak. “I’m just a shadow of my father. He was a shadow of his.”
He looked down at his plate. “And if I ever had a son, he’d inherit the exact same bullshit.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Frankly, I’m amazed you haven’t accidentally fathered one already.”
He barked out a laugh and the warmth was back. “I never really pictured kids for myself. Or marriage.”
“Why not?”
“My parents,” he replied and shrugged one shoulder. “My mom hasn’t stepped foot in New York since 2005. She didn’t even come to my father’s funeral. Shows you how much she really hated him.”
“And… you assume that would happen to you?”
“Wouldn’t it?”
I studied him for a long moment. “My parents weren’t perfect. But they respected each other. They laughed a lot. I always thought that was the secret.”
Just… keeping each other laughing. Kind of like us.
My smile faded.
The man had just told me he never wanted marriage. And like a delusional idiot, I already started imagining a future anyway.
“But...” I looked back at my plate and made a weak laugh. “I’m divorced, so clearly I don’t know any better than your parents.”
His head shook. “That wasn’t your fault. You can’t control someone else’s addiction.”
I didn’t know how to reply to that. I took another bite and stared at the kitchen cabinets just to have something to focus on.
“Abby, do you think, if Pierce hadn’t gotten into drugs…” I turned my head in surprise and met his intense stare. “Would you two still be together?”
I let out a small, nervous laugh. “This is heavy conversation for eight in the morning, Don Moretti.”
He smiled faintly but still waited for an answer.
I sighed and flapped a hand. “I don’t know. With him, I… felt content. I settled. After everything that happened here, I convinced myself I needed the opposite. A nice man from a good family. If he didn’t cheat on me, or snort all our money away, maybe I would’ve stayed.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Did Richie really screw you up that badly?” Nicola asked softly.
My head cocked to the side. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought... uh, Richie.” He looked genuinely bewildered. “I thought that’s why you left.”
“You think I left because of Richie Gallo?”
“Well...” He shrugged helplessly and threw a hand up. “Yeah. Obviously. Richie was a creep. You said you were scared.”
“I was, Nicola.” I pointed at him. “I was scared of you.”