Page 58 of Covert Desires

I watch him closely, noting his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "And then you came here of all places?"

Nico nods, his posture softening slightly as a faraway look crosses his face. "I had good memories of this place." His fingers trace absent patterns on the arm of his chair. "My father once brought me to this very inn when I was thirteen. Some or other business trip."

A ghost of a smile touches his lips, gone as quickly as it appeared. "He bought me a peanut butter milkshake. Figured it was obscure enough, they wouldn't look for me here."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to ask. My heart races, but I keep my voice steady. It's not relevant to our case, but I need to know. "Whydid you want to kill your father?"

Nico takes a long time to answer, and I almost give up on a response. Then he slowly starts digging the broken pieces from his treasure trove of trauma, his gaze far away, drifting in vastness like a castaway lost at sea.

My heart breaks into a million pieces as the broody-stranger-who-isn’t-a-stranger-anymore tells me about his oppressive childhood, his fucked-up parents, about what they did to his wife, to Annika.

What the fuck is wrong with people?

It sounds unreal, like the plot of some Netflix movie, but the way his face contorts in pain, like someone is physically stabbing him, makes it crystal clear that this is not fiction; this is his history.

“Nico…” I whisper when the last word has dissipated, his painful story stretching between us like an unbridgeable abyss.

Closing the distance between us, I reach out to the scar under his eye, gently tracing its path with my fingertips. He flinches at the contact but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m so sorry, Nico,” I whisper, seeking his distant gaze.

“Why? It’s not your fault.” His words are icy cold and hard, just like his face.

“Nobody deserves a childhood like that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You don’t know me. I deserved it. I deserve all of this.”

I take his face in both my hands. “Look at me.”

But he refuses to meet my eyes.

“Nico.”

His blue eyes flash toward me, raging, intense.

“No, you don’t. You don’t deserve any of it.”

He sighs, and I press my forehead against his, pulling him closer, into my arms. I wish I could erase his painful memories and stop them from ever happening.

How could any parent be so cruel?

This poor man…the things he’s endured.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat.

His gaze finally softens as he studies my face, reading the emotions I don’t know how to voice.

Gently, I caress his cheek, keeping my eyes locked on his.

In this moment, I’m overly aware of his proximity, of his nakedness, his warmth.

My body moves like it belongs to someone else, slipping an arm around his neck to pull us closer.

He doesn’t resist, just lets me brush my lips against his like I’ve dreamt of so many times.

Oh god.

My breath catches as our lips meet for the first time. It's soft at first, almost hesitant, as if he's afraid I might break. But then something ignites between us, and the kiss deepens.

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