Nicoli: Chapter 22

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Moving your stuff into my bedroom.” Nicoli’s staring at my dresser, frowning. “I never understood why you have so much shit on this thing.”

“How do you know how much shit I have on my dresser? Have you been in my room?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

He snatches my hairbrush and the little see-through holder with all my hairbands, dropping them into a box. “It would be great if you could grab a few things and help.”

“I’m not helping you because I’m not moving into your bedroom.”

“We’re married.”

“Make-believe. Why can’t an intelligent man like yourself grasp that concept?”

“Why is it that a beautiful woman like yourself needs all this shit?” He waves his arm over all the perfume bottles and makeup.

I cross my arms and stare at him. “Get out of my room.”

“This isn’t your room.” He stalks toward my walk-in closet and swings open the doors. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck is this?” He steps inside, his head moving from side to side as he looks around. “How is your wardrobe bigger than an H&M store?

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious. Are you hiding a fucking Kardashian in here?”

“Okay, that’s it.” I grab his elbow. “Get out. Now.”

“You have an entire wall of shoes. Shoes, Hummingbird.” He glances down at me without budging. “It’s a goddamn shoe shrine.”

“Get. Out.”

I snake an arm around his waist and push him toward my bedroom door, and he quickly grabs the box from my dresser before I give him a final shove out the door. “Now, please leave me alone.”

I’m about to slam the door in his face when I notice him studying the frame hinges.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to see what size screwdriver I need to take this fucking door down.”

“Nicoli!”

“I’m serious, Mira.” Intense eyes gleam into mine as he drops the box and slams his palm against the door. “It’s been a week. We’re not living in two separate bedrooms. We won’t be that couple.”

“We aren’t even a fucking couple.”

“I have a document that says otherwise.”

“An illegal document, you mean?”

His lips pull down at the edges. “It has a priest’s signature on it.”

“The priest you paid?”

“He’s still a man of God. Speaking of, I’m still waiting for a name.”

“What name?”

He slants his head to the side, staring straight at me as if I just asked the world’s dumbest question.

And then I remember. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead.”

“I’ll give you his name if you can tell me the name of every girl you’ve slept with.”

“That’s easy. None.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true. I haven’t slept with anyone. I usually fuck them and leave. There’s no sleeping involved.”

I blink. “You’re an asshole.”

“Naaaaaame.” His lips vibrate as he presses them together.

“Fine.” I cross my arms and slant my hip. “Tommaso.”

“Tommaso?” He recoils. “What kind of pussy name is that?”

“The kind with a real big, thick, loooong—”

“Finish that sentence, and I swear to God—”

“Dick.”

Abruptly, he grabs my waist, spins me around so fast I’m not sure which way is up, and slams the door shut, pinning me against it. Heat emanates from him, the size of his body creating an invisible wall as he towers over me, caging me with his muscular arms. “You still need to learn not to fuck with me.”

“And you need to accept that I’m not just going to roll over and play the part of a submissive wife.”

“That’s too bad.” He strokes his finger along my jaw. “You would look exquisite on your knees.” A sultry tenor in his voice wakes my insides with a flutter. “And where, exactly, is our friend Tommaso from?” he continues.

“I told you he’s not from around here.”

“Then where?”

“I don’t know.”

Lines of confusion form on his forehead. “How do you not know?”

“Because it happened the summer after high school when I was in Tuscany.”

“Tuscany?”

“Yes. And I think they were on vacation, too, so I don’t know—”

“They? They!” He brings his fist to his mouth, biting hard, and I have to admit I’m suddenly finding his jealousy and lack of restraint real amusing. I should roll with this.

“Yes. They. Him and his girlfriend.” I smirk wickedly. “You didn’t think Paula was the first girl whose face I sat on, did you?”

A low growl echoes from his throat as he leans his head down, the muscles in his shoulders straining against the white fabric of his shirt. “Woman, I swear to God my death certificate will have your name listed as cause of death.”

“There are worse ways to go.”

He snorts, and our gazes fuse together, electricity sizzling and crackling, our connection growing stronger with every second. Everything fades to the background, even the bickering, replaced with a flammable longing that licks my skin with fiery strokes.

Nicoli inches closer, his lips less than a breath from mine, and I’m overwhelmed with a need for him to kiss me. Please kiss me.

“You know what we have is more than just an arrangement,” he rasps.

“It’s definitely not enough to warrant marital bliss.”

“Yet,” he growls in a low, gravelly voice that sends a sudden wave of desire between my thighs. His scent is intoxicating as it fills the air, and I breathe it in, warm notes of amber and pepper with a hint of leather.

I gasp when his hands grip my waist like shackles, jerking my lower body closer to him while my shoulders remain planted on the door. He’s planting peppered kisses on my collarbone, slowly driving me to madness. Shivers ripple through my insides when he slides a hand up under the hem of my shirt, his fingers teasing along my stomach in a straight trail up to my breast, but stops just below the swell.

“This has been years in the making, Hummingbird. I was just dumb enough to think I could fight it.”

He drags a single finger up my breast, touching my nipple with nothing more than his fingertip. I try to stifle a groan but fail miserably.

“One bedroom,” he says, his voice husky with desire. “We’ve wasted enough time apart.”

“You mean you’ve wasted enough time,” I challenge with a shaky voice.

“I’ll take responsibility, but only this once,” he teases, brushing his lips up my jaw, breathing hard and spreading goosebumps across my skin. He grazes my earlobe with a featherlight kiss, his finger drawing lazy, barely-touching circles against the very tip of my nipple. “So,” he drawls, “let’s make it official and be a fucking couple.”

“Nicoli…”

My protest dies when he grinds his hard cock against me, lighting my body with a thousand sensations. “Say yes,” he demands.

“I don’t—”

He cups my breast, squeezing hard, and the sound of his heavy inhale causes me to lean my head back, shivering with anticipation.

“Say yes,” he repeats, the volume of his voice climbing with urgency.

I shudder against him and can’t stop myself from rolling my hips against him. I’m dizzy with desire, breathless with a need much stronger than my resistance.

“We can’t—”

Nicoli jerks up my shirt, and warm lips are on my breast, sucking my nipple into his mouth, inhaling sharply through his nose as if he’s tasting euphoria for the first time. A loud moan escapes me, and I arch my back off the wall, pressing my body harder against his. Every touch, every flick of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, is like a slow stroke between my legs without him even touching me there. My core is hot and drenched, and I don’t have to touch my clit to know it’s swollen.

Cold air prickles my wet nipple when Nicoli inches back, the tip of his tongue flicking the pebbled nub before swirling around it. He’s slowly driving me insane, soaking my panties with nothing more than his mouth on my breast.

His tongue is gone, and I’m panting with a throbbing need that has my body all twisted up. “Say. It.”

“Yes,” I whisper, barely audible.

He lifts his head and peers up at me with a mischievous grin on his face. His blue eyes sparkle with satisfaction. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Say it again,” he says between heavy breaths that fan the space around us in heated need.

“Yes.” My voice crescendos this time, an acceptance of a fate I can no longer control. But one thing I’ve learned since everything around us started to unravel is that Nicoli loves the game. He thrives on the excitement of it. And so do I.

I crash my lips on his, and our tongues collide. My fingers are weaved through his hair, and I wrap a leg around him to bring him even closer. He hooks his arm around my knee, and I’m shamelessly grinding against his hard length pressed against me.

Our breaths are hot gasps of passionate moans, and I wait for him to slip his fingers into the waistband of my tights before I inch back and break the kiss, and he leans his forehead down against mine. “I’ll move into your bedroom,” I say with panting breaths. “On one condition.”

“Whose heart do I need to cut out and place by your feet?” There’s a smirk on his face, but something tells me he’s not kidding.

I reach down between us, slip my hand inside his pants, and wrap my palm around his hard length, squeezing with just enough pressure.

“Jesus, fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Name it, Hummingbird, and it’s yours.”

Pre-cum beads on his cock, and I ease my thumb over it, spreading it around the velvet tip. Letting out a wild growl, he flexes deeper into my palm, slamming his fist into the wall next to me. “What the fuck do you want?”

I lean my head to the side. “I want you to take me to Myth.”

Nicoli goes rigid, and I’m pretty sure he just stopped breathing. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

I tear my hand from his cock and out of his pants, lowering my leg from around his waist and pushing my palm against his chest, forcing him back. “Then I’m staying right here in my own bedroom.”

Nicoli stares at me for a moment, looking like I just dropped a bucket of ice all over him. “You’re kidding.”

“Try me.”

He places his hands on his waist. His sleeves are rolled up mid-arm, his veins bulging beneath his tanned skin. “Why would you want to go Myth?”

“Because I’ve been watching you speed out the driveway at midnight going to Myth for years. I’ve heard the rumors and the hushed conversations between you and your brothers, and I want to see it for myself.”

“It’s a sex club,” he says.

“I know that.” I tug my shirt down, covering myself up. “And that’s why I want to go.”

“To a sex club?”

“Yes.”

“A sex club?”

I slant a brow. “Are you having a seizure?”

He licks his lips, and a slow smile creeps up his face. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

I cross my arms, leveling him with a stare that tells him I’m, in fact, not fucking with him.

He swipes at his nose with his thumb, scoffing as he turns away from me, only to face me again a second later. “You’re serious.”

I let my arms fall to my sides. “Do I not look serious?”

He comes in close and cups the back of my neck, locking eyes with me for a long moment before he speaks. “What do you want from Myth? And don’t say sex because I’ll burn that fucking place to the ground if you do.”

I purse my lips, squaring my gaze into his. “I want sex.”

His eyes narrow into slits, his fingers tightening on the back of my neck, and I can practically feel his stare dissecting my brain. He licks his lips then lets go of me, taking two long strides back with what looks like a mask of new resolve on his gorgeous face.

I study him, not looking away for a second as the silence pulses with thick heat between us.

Nicoli lifts a hand and points a finger at me as if he’s on the verge of saying something, but then lowers his arm and slowly walks toward the door, picking up the box with some of my things he had dropped earlier.

He turns with the box in hand and walks back into my room, abruptly dropping the box on my bed before turning to face him. “Enjoy your room.”

“Where are you going?”

“Tuscany.”

“What?”

“Tommaso is in desperate need of disembowelment.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You’re being overdramatic and irrational.”

He stops at the door and turns to face me, his expression hard lines and sharp edges. “The last guy brought the wrong man into our club, and I made him eat glass before I severed his jugular. Now imagine what I’d do to a man who had his dick all up in your cunt?”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh, you have no idea, Hummingbird. No fucking idea.”