Page 60 of Keeping My Girl

Sweat beads on my forehead, and I find myself squirming uncomfortably.

A dark chuckle sounds from behind the drawing table. “You don’t have to stay completely still, Lina. You can move…and breath,” Nico reassures me with a gentle smile.

“I know,” I say with a roll of my eyes. And just like that, it feels like most of the tension has fled the room just by him joking around. I try to force myself to relax. I’m thinking way too much into this moment. Nico is simply drawing me. No big deal, right?

My eyes focus on the movement of his long, thick fingers as they delicately blend shadows against the paper. My thighs clench together, and I realize I’m getting turned on by this.

“Have you done this before?” I ask him, curious. And I’m surprised by the bite of nervousness gnawing at my stomach in anticipation of his answer.

“No. I usually just draw and paint from memory,” he admits.

For some reason, that makes me feel better…and less jealous. Oh god, why would I even be jealous about that? I think to myself. Maybe it’s because a selfish part of me wants something intimate and special between just Nico and I and no one else.

My breathing becomes shallow as I watch him watching me with an intense, direct stare that has my heart beating in a strange pattern. God, if we’re not done soon, I’m going to develop some sort of heart murmur.

A few minutes later, Nico, thankfully, tells me, “Finished.”

I hop up and practically run over to him, anxious to see what he just drew. I stare at the charcoal drawing, my eyes narrowing at the beautiful girl. I can barely see me on the canvas unless I really focus hard on all the little details, like my freckles. “This is how you see me?” I ask.

“What do you mean? That is you, Lina.”

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, chewing on it with my teeth nervously. He can’t be serious. The girl he just drew is beautiful, almost ethereal, and…happy. I’m none of those things. Or am I? Am I happy?

When I stare down at Nico’s gray eyes, reflecting myself back in them, I think maybe I am happy with him…or at least I could be if I let myself give in to what I’m feeling. Nico definitely doesn’t make me feel unwanted or miserable. How fucked up is it that I can’t even tell when I’m actually truly happy?

Nico must notice a change in my mood because he says, “You don’t like the drawing?”

“No. I love it. I just…I don’t see myself like you see me I guess,” I mutter, feeling stupid that I can’t even look at a drawing of myself without feeling a million horrible things.

“Lina,” he starts. Then, he grabs my hand, gripping my index finger tightly in his grip. Together, we trace over my eyebrows, my eyes, the charcoal coating my fingertip. He takes me through the process, tracing over every one of his lines. “You’re beautiful, Lina,” he murmurs. “This is how I see you. And this is how the entire world sees you.”

Turning to him, I straddle his lap, my legs falling to either side of his thighs. Swallowing hard, I muster up enough courage to speak. “I don’t care how the entire world sees me. I only care about you,” I confess.

He stares at me for a second, his eyes locked on mine. His charcoal-covered fingers grasp onto my face, and then he pulls me towards him. “Tell me I can kiss you, Lina. Please,” he pleads with me.

He’s asking for permission instead of just taking what he wants, and my heart soars with his words. He knows exactly what I need. And right now all I need is him. “Kiss me, Nico,” I beg.

Our lips meet in a smoldering kiss. His thumb gently strokes over the small heart-shaped birthmark on my neck, and memories of our first kiss when we were teenagers come flooding back, hitting me with an unspeakable force.

A tiny spark kindles somewhere deep within me, making my pulse drift between my thighs. I’m panting wildly when we break the kiss and I look into his steel gray eyes. “It feels just like I remember,” I whisper. Closing my eyes, I ask him, “Nico, can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” he answers with a relaxed sigh.

Then, I open my eyes and meet his intense gaze. “You’re the only person I’ve ever kissed. I refused to kiss anyone else. I wanted that to be a piece of me that no one else could ever have. I wanted you to own that part of me.”

My tongue slowly edges over my bottom lip, and Nico watches the movement with rapt attention. I get a hint of the fire stoking in his eyes as my only warning before his hand grips the back of my head and he pulls my mouth to his once again. This time the kiss isn’t so sweet and innocent. No, it’s heated, all-consuming, soul-searing and threatening to ruin me for all other men on this earth. No one else will ever kiss me like this. And I don’t want anyone else to ever try. I only want Nico.

His large hands cup my ass, grinding me down on his erection through his clothes. I gasp at the sensation, and he takes advantage, his tongue delving into my mouth hungrily. His tongue ravages mine as he devours me, swallowing the little moans that keep bubbling up from my throat.

His right hand slides from my backside to the apex of my thighs, his fingertips tracing the seam of my lips through my shorts and panties. “I want to taste you, Lina,” he grinds out. “Can I taste you?” he asks, staring at me so desperately that I’m almost rendered speechless.

“Yes,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

Gripping my thighs, he stands with me in his arms. I quickly wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to his bed. My back hits the soft pile of sheets and comforters as he gently lays me down and stands at the edge, looking at me like I’m something delicious he wants to feast upon.

Oh god.

A shudder runs through me as he slowly pulls my shorts and panties off my hips and down my legs in one sweep. And then he gets on his knees, his head lining up perfectly with the apex of my thighs.

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