Chapter 32
Nadya
I DIDN’T WAIT FOR HIM to move first. Instead, I grabbed him by the T-shirt and pulled him into a kiss.
Nick didn’t hesitate to kiss me back; his lips were soft and patient, almost reverent, deliberate, but not controlling.
His hands started at my waist, thumbs moving in lazy circles over the hoodie, then slid under, caressing my skin.
There was a scar there and he paused as if to acknowledge it with the way his fingertips drifted over the small dot, like he was taking inventory of every broken part.
He tugged the hoodie up then paused, eyes level with mine, giving me a chance to bail, to call this off and pretend it was never going to happen. Instead, I leaned into him, pressing my bare skin to his, and the chill of the kitchen vanished.
“Still want this?” His voice was so low I felt it more than heard it.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Good.”
He kissed me again as his hands moved with the same quiet confidence he used on everything else: no fumbling, no hesitation.
He slipped the hoodie over my head, careful of my hair, and dropped it to the floor, revealing only a thin tank top underneath.
No bra, because what kind of masochist would wear a bra at home? Not me.
Then his hands moved to my shoulders, then my cleavage.
The fire in his eyes almost made me forget about the scars until Nick took my top off and kissed each burn reverently before smoothing his hands lower, tracing the edges of each rib like he was mapping uncharted territory.
I shuddered, not from cold, but from the heat of it, and he caught the tremor in my arms. He pressed his mouth to my neck, then my jaw, then finally to the spot just beneath my ear that made me squirm.
He used it, the bastard, coaxing out another shiver, then a sound I didn’t mean to make.
“Sensitive?” he murmured, lips brushing my earlobe.
“Fuck you,” I said, but it came out shaky.
“Maybe later,” he said, and bit down, just enough to make my knees buckle. I grabbed for his wrist just as he grabbed my hips to steady me.
I used to think I liked being in control, but I simply never trusted anyone to take it from me. Nick shattered all my walls, taking them apart brick by brick so I could use those same bricks to build myself into someone stronger.
He lifted me onto the counter. The cool laminate contrasted the heat of Nick’s body pressed between my legs and his hot mouth as he kissed down my neck, over my collarbone, and then lower.
He paused at my chest, hands gentle but unyielding, and looked up at me.
I met his gaze, daring him to say something about the burns.
Dumb, because I knew he was better than that, better than other men I had picked up over the years as I tried to prove to myself I wasn’t too broken to enjoy sex.
He just licked his lips and sucked one nipple, then the other, until the sounds in my throat were all whimpers and gasps and curses.
He took his time. I wanted him inside me already, but he was moving as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Ugh.
I tried to unbuckle his jeans, but he pulled my hands away from his belt and set them gently on my own knees.
“Let me,” he said, as if he could read my mind.
He slipped his hands under the waistband of my sweatpants and slid them down, leaving my panties in place at first. He ran his fingers along the edge, then hooked a finger under and pulled just enough to expose me.
His breath hitched, but he didn’t gawk. He just grinned and kissed the inside of my thigh, then higher, then higher, until I stopped breathing entirely.
He started slow, tongue tracing lazy patterns, circling but never landing exactly where I wanted.
I arched my back, pressing into him, but he held me steady with both hands, thumbs digging into my hips, pinning me to the countertop.
Heat built inside me as his tongue kept moving, relentless and methodical.
He paid attention. Every time I gasped, or let out a moan, or jerked my hips in a certain way, he adjusted, dialing up or down with maddening precision.
I dug my fingers into his hair, yanking harder than I meant to, and he just hummed in approval, the vibration shooting from my core and straight up my spine.
Nick didn’t treat going down on me as a chore or like he had something to prove. Judging by the groans coming out of Nick, he was enjoying himself, like he’d do this for hours if I let him.
The pleasure crept up slowly, and when it overwhelmed me, I bit my own arm to keep from screaming. Nick didn’t stop. He kept going, softer now, coaxing out every last spasm until I was shaking, breathless, borderline sobbing.
When I finally came down, he kissed his way back up my body, pausing at every scar, every freckle, like he was making sure I knew he’d seen it all and still wanted me. Finally, when he was all the way back up my body again, he kissed me, slow and deep, and I tasted myself on his lips.
Not breaking our kiss, he picked me up and carried me to his bed, then started stripping. That body. Had I ever been with a man this perfect before?
That feeling of not being good enough crept back in. I was too broken to get a man like him. Then again, this was temporary. He was just here for his case, and then he’d return to his life. A fling wasn’t the same as actually having someone like him.
Nick cupped my face and gave me another kiss, a quicker one this time. “What’s wrong, my sleep brawler?”
I shook my head, trying to deny I had anything other than sex on my mind. Obviously, booze, sex, and art were all I was capable of thinking about. Everyone figured that by now.
“You looked sad there for a moment,” He pressed as he climbed into bed with me, placing his arm around my waist and bringing me closer, but not moving to continue what we had started, even if his cock very much looked like it wanted to.
“Just thinking that you’re too perfect for me,” I admitted, but didn’t voice the other half of the equation.
“Far from perfect,” he argued and his hand moved to caress my back. “I have no self-control when it comes to you, for example.”
I snorted at that. “Obviously.”
“You don’t believe me?” He quirked his brow, then ground his cock against me.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I know I’m good enough for a quick fuck, but you can find someone way better.”
He should find someone way better.
He froze at that. “You know nothing that happened to you is your fault, right?”
“I know.” But everything I did to myself, the way I coped, was all me.
Nick cupped my face and gently coaxed it to turn, until I was looking into his eyes.
“I have wanted you since the first time I saw you drinking alone at the bar. Every night since, I wished I didn’t let you slip out of the room. I fantasized about finding you again and never letting go.”
“That’s because you didn’t really know how screwed up I was.”
“I figured out some of what happened to you.” His fingers traced the scars from cigarette burns on my chest. “I knew what kinds of scars you had.”
And he wasn’t just talking about the scars visible on my skin. Had he really seen that much even then? Obviously, an FBI agent would figure out more than most, but I hadn’t thought he’d known that much.
“It was a one night stand,” I reminded myself. “I was always good for that.”
Nick’s fingers flexed on my hip. “I’m considering transferring to New York.”
My eyes rounded in shock. “Not because of me.” Obviously, not because of me. Like it even needed to be said.
“Because of you,” he said in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.
“You can’t. I’m just.” I flapped my hand as if I thought that would explain everything going on in my head.
Somehow, he seemed to understand what the gesture meant. “Not good enough for me?”
I nodded. The same ugly feeling crawled into my head, threatening to drown me.
“Do you think I’m too dumb to think for myself?” Nick asked, shocking me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“No. Of course not.” What the hell?
“I think you’re perfect for me,” he said, his hand pulling me closer. “If you don’t want me, if you don’t think I’m good enough for you, then I’ll back off, but don’t push me away based on what you think I should want, because I can decide for myself.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
“Do you want me?” Nick pressed.
I nodded. Of course I wanted him. Who wouldn’t want him?
“New York has good public transportation, and since you have a problem with cars, I figured it’d be better for you to stay here. Besides, your sisters are here, and I doubt you’d want to leave them. I’d have no problem transferring.”
Holy shit, he sounded like he had been thinking about it a lot.
Something warm started to spread through my chest: a mixture of hope, happiness, and something else, something I was too scared to name.
“What about your life in Philly?"
He shrugged. “Philly is just a place I could work to lock up more assholes and save lives, but I can do it here, too.”
Right. He had told me his parents lived near Pittsburg, so he’d be away from them either way. He probably had friends in Philly, but he had friends here, too.
“I do need a new roommate,” I said cautiously, still not fully believing he’d do it.
“Not anymore.”