Page 64 of Royally Roma
Then again, he’d told the truth.
“Disappointed?” He smiled and ran his thumb along her wrist in the darkness.
She dipped her head, and her gaze softened, the way the rain blurred everything around the edges. “No. But I’m still not sure I believe you. You might be the best liar in Rome.”
“Your turn.” He moved closer to her.
Out of sight, their fingertips closed more tightly around each other, lest their hands slip apart. Rain pounded hard against the timeless church. So hard that Niccolo convinced himself the real world might just melt away.
“Are you afraid?” he whispered, gaze locked on her ruby red lips.
You should be.
He wasn’t holding back. Not anymore.
“Not in the slightest.” But he could feel the nervous flutter of her pulse against the pad of his thumb, and he knew better than to believe her.
She was lying already.
“Ask me anything.” Her plush bottom lip gave a tantalizing little tremble.
Niccolo was so turned on, he could barely remain upright. “This no kissing rule of yours...”
She took a deep breath, and he watched as her lips slowly parted. All the chariots in ancient Rome couldn’t have dragged him away from her in that moment, much less a handful of bodyguards.
“Did you mean it, or do you want me to kiss you again?” He bent his head until his mouth was poised directly over hers.
He could hear her heartbeat pounding in time with the rain, feel the wet heat rising from her body. And the thing that had begun coming loose inside him disentangled completely. He was finished pretending.
He couldn’t tell her who he was, but he could no longer stop himself from wanting her. Not anymore.
“Don’t you dare lie to me, Julia,” he growled.
He had no right to speak to her in such a way. He’d done nothing but lie to her since the moment they’d met. Somewhere along the way, though, those lies had become real.
The truth rang between them like church bells.
“I still want it.” Her voice, a quivering, delicious whisper, could have dragged an army of gladiators to its knees. “I never stopped.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Niccolo wasn’t fully aware of the trip back to Julia’s flat. The ride was a hazy, tortuous blur of rain-dampened cobblestones, the heat of Julia’s exquisite body pressing into his back, radiating through her wet dress, and the constant awareness that for the first time since he’d set foot on Italian soil he was running toward something instead of away from it.
Toward home. Toward her.
They tumbled up the narrow stairway, lips and hands searching, until at last they fell into her flat’s cozy kitchen. He cradled her face in his hands, his mouth lowered toward hers, and it was as though he’d finally exhaled after a lifetime of holding his breath.
The kiss was tender at first, almost gentle. As if the sudden solitude of her flat and the swollen promise of the hours ahead had made them bashful. But somewhere beneath the tenderness, there was a growing urgency. A furious need.
Heneededher.
The realization would have alarmed him if he’d been capable of coherent thought. He hadn’t allowed himself to need anyone in a long time. And now that he finally had, the woman he needed most was someone destined to be forever out of reach.
But not now. Not tonight.
“I need to see you,” he breathed, dragging his lips from hers. “Now.”
