Page 34 of Bully Wolf's Nanny
“I know I’ve said it before,” his fingers tightened around hers, “but you would be welcomed back with open arms. There’sa place for you here, Daisy. You and Thea. You don’t have to be scared.”
“I’m not scared,” she said, and then paused before whispering, “not anymore.”
His other hand drifted up to caress the side of her face. Instead of pulling away, her cheek pressed further into his palm, and she closed her eyes and sighed as if some great weight had lifted off her chest.
“I’m glad,” he whispered.
Her eyes opened, and they were so bright, so warm, so happy, that Nicolas felt his heart lurch in his chest.
He was a bastard. A complete bastard for what he had done to her all those years ago. It was the only thing in his life that he truly regretted. And now, he was being handed an opportunity to make things right. And he wasn’t going to screw it up this time.
Slowly, carefully, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted, he leaned forward.
She sucked in a breath, her eyes dropping to his lips, before releasing it in one long, needy breath.
It was all the permission he needed.
He closed the distance between them, leaning over the table, uncaring if people were watching. She met him halfway, their lips joining, and deep in his chest his wolf howled in victory.
Chapter 11 - Daisy
They tumbled into Nicolas’s apartment, tongues battling for dominance as the elevator doors slid shut behind them. Daisy was relying entirely on the strength of Nicolas’s arms to keep her upright as he walked her back into the darkened room, his keen senses keeping them from falling.
“Fucking hell, I’ve been desperate to do this for weeks,” he groaned between greedy kisses, shoving her backwards onto a sofa and quickly covering her body with his own and reclaiming her lips once more.
She could do nothing but whine in agreement, pawing at his shirt, her every sense filled with him. The heavy musk of his scent, the powerful grip of his hands, the taste of him on her tongue.
“I…we…” she managed to gasp out.
He reared back, his blue eyes glowing in the dark. “Daisy Copperfield, I swear to fucking God, if you’re about to tell me we shouldn’t be doing this—"
“No!” she said, blushing at the force of her conviction. “No, I just mean…the girls? What about the girls?”
“They’re with the babysitter on the floor below,” he said, his teeth nipping the delicate skin beneath her jaw, “we’ve got the place to ourselves.”
“Okay,” she breathed, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt, “okay, that’s good!’”
He leaned back again and tore his shirt off with a growl, buttons flying in every direction, before pinning her down to the sofa with one hand against her neck. His lips moved over her pulse point, lightly grazing before sucking the skin into mouth.
Daisy gasped at the pleasure-pain, her hips involuntarily bucking upwards into his, fingernails scraping over his back. So long. She’d denied herself so long, and now the river banks had burst and there was no containing the oncoming flood.
Nicolas’s lips trailed lower and he growled in irritation when he met the fabric barely containing her heaving breasts. His hands gripped it, making to rip it from her, and she squealed in horror, “No, you can’t! It’s too beautiful!”
“No”—with one smooth motion, he wrenched the dress apart, splitting it cleanly down to her navel—"you’rebeautiful. I can get you a thousand pretty dresses, but nothing is more stunning than justyou.”
Her blush had spread down to her chest now, and her hands flew up to cover her bra-covered breasts. Her strength was no match for him however, and when Nicholas Accardi wanted something, he would get it. He grasped her wrists and pinned them above her head, forcing her back to arch. With deft fingers, he reached around and unclipped her bra, wrenching through the delicate straps of lace and throwing it over his shoulder, revealing her entirely to him.
He released a shuddering breath. “Fuck.”
Slowly, almost reverently, his free hand caressed her cheek and traveled lower, brushing over her collarbone until he reached the plump flesh of her breasts. They trembled as she did, nipples hardening under the intensity of his gaze. His hand cupped her right breast, testing the weight, muscles of his chest rippling as he brushed his thumb over one stiff peak.
“Fuck, Daisy,” he said as she let out a whimper at the contact, “you’re even more fucking perfect than I remember.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, her voice small. She was no great beauty, she knew that. She was too short, too curvy, too big.Clothes didn’t fit her right, boys laughed at her, girls judged her. She judged herself.Perfectwas never a word she would use to describe herself. It seemed ridiculous to even think it.
Nicolas’ eyes darkened, his teeth baring. “What did you just say?”
“I said I’m not perfect,” she whispered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I’m not—mmph!”
