Page 25 of Nicoli

“What the f—”

“Oh, God,” I gasp, and three things happen at once.

The towel drops.

Nicoli’s eyes widen.

And I die.

A wash of heat rushes to my face, and a fire is lit inside my chest. The scarlet towel is pooled around my feet, refusing to obscure the overwhelming embarrassment that floods my system as I stare into sapphire eyes. Humiliation grabs hold of every muscle in my body, and I’m frozen because, apparently, I have now forgotten how to move. All I can do is stand like a statue and feel the shame chew me up in big chunks of awkwardness.

I stare up at Nicoli, regarding me with an expression that seems both unreadable and unfamiliar all at once. Is it because I’ve never seen him look at me the way he’s doing right now? The silence hurts my ears, seconds turning into decades until Nicoli’s blue gaze slowly starts to wander, raking down my body. Too overwhelmed to bear witness to this disaster, I shut my eyes and do nothing but just stand absolutely fucking still. Every trace of our earlier dispute is gone. It’s as if the argument in the living room never happened.

Nicoli clears his throat, and I open my eyes just in time to see him crouch in front of me, his eyes downcast as he reaches for the towel. My heart is beating so fast, and I’m convinced he can hear the thump.

A single wisp of his hair tickles my leg as his fingers grip the towel still draped around my feet. An electric current shoots up my thigh, sparks of anticipation prickling my skin.

“Nicoli, I—”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t even—”

“Just for once, Mira.” He touches my calf, and I suck in a breath. “Keep quiet.” His voice is low. Demanding. And I’m biting my bottom lip nervously, trying to keep myself from saying something incredibly fucking stupid.

His fingertips trail gently up the side of my leg, his deft touch seeping into my skin, leaving me weak-kneed and hardly able to keep myself upright. There’s just too much heat. Too much desire. Too much electricity that I can practically taste.

What is he thinking? Does he like what he sees? Is desire alive in his veins as it is in mine? Is this really happening?

A hankering need coils low in my belly, desire radiating outward from my core, spreading between my legs. I can’t control it. I can’t make my body stop reacting to him. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my skin, his midnight hair framing his face, which bears the mask of barely contained hunger. His gaze is steady on his hand that continues to touch me, slowly tracing up my outer thigh and all along the curve of my hip. I’m nothing but liquid being this close to him, under his touch and at his mercy.

He stops abruptly, his hand hovering over my hip bone, his fiery blue eyes hooded and alive as he stares at my pussy. My pulse quickens, and my breathing grows ragged. Time is frozen, the intensity a taut thread that would sever at any moment. My heart is on the cusp of bursting, the blood in my veins saturated with silent longing.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, his eyes riveted to my sex, licking his lips and leaving a tempting sheen. “You have no idea how hard this is.”

“How hard what is?”

Nicoli brings his face so close to my aroused flesh I can feel the slightest brush of his nose. It sends my body into a spiral, aching for him to put his mouth there. To kiss my sex, eat me out, and make me come.

“To stay away from you.”

“Then don’t,” I whisper and close my eyes, my skin electrified with sweet anticipation.

He takes a slow, savoring, deeply erotic inhale as if he’s relishing the scent of my lust that clings to my folds. A surge of heat weakens me, forcing me to reach out to the wall so I can keep my balance.

He doesn’t move, and neither do I. I don’t even dare to breathe with the amplified silence between us. Every particle of my being is focused on him, drunk on the anticipation that could so easily drown me. My mind is already racing with thoughts of what’s about to happen. My body is primed and pussy slick. I want him so badly it hurts. It’s an ache I can’t describe, deeply rooted and heavily weighted. As angry as he makes me, he dizzies me too.

I want him to kiss me there. I need him to use his tongue and taste my clit. I want it slow. Fast. Gentle. Hard. I want it any way he’s willing to give it to me, just as long as he touches me and gets rid of the hunger that’s taken over my soul.

I swallow hard, my throat narrow and lungs desperate, my heart racing as I pray for him to finally give me what I’ve desired for so long. Him. I want him.

Trying to catch my breath, Nicoli suddenly straightens, and a gasp slips across my lips. With a subtle touch on my chin, he forces me to look up at him. There’s a softness in his eyes that I haven’t seen in years. A gentle hue of affection. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and I wish I could read his mind. I want to know if he wants me as much as I want him. I want to know if he thinks I’m pretty because, to me, he’s the most beautiful creature on this Earth. His dark hair. His crystal eyes. His full lips. The way his mouth curves at only one end when he smirks. Nothing in this world sets me alight with life the way Nicoli Del Rossa does.

He leans his head to the side, his thumb raised to trace the course of my scar. I’m not wearing any makeup, and I know the mark Micah gave me is more noticeable now than any other day when covered. He’s never seen the permanent seam of marred flesh because I always hide it so well. But now…he can see it. He sees me at my most vulnerable, the purest form of me he’ll ever get.

There’s a sudden shift, his eyes no longer liquid but hardened ice as he regards the prominent flaw on my face. His gaze cuts to mine, and the electricity between us vanishes as if it was never there.

He drapes the towel over my shoulders, covering me, breaking every shard of the connection that soared between us half a heartbeat ago, and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Hummingbird,” he rasps, and my chest tightens. He hasn’t called me that in years, and hearing it again has now turned my blistering desire for him into an aching longing.

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