Page 42 of Nicoli

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I love you,” I whisper, finally able to pull away. “But I willneverlet you love me back.”

“Mira, please—” He tries to reach for me, but I step away.

Our eyes lock, and it’s just pain. It’s all there is between us. “I would say it’s over, but it never started,” I say as I grab a towel and walk backward. “And it never will.”

With that, I turn my back on him, the final curtain drawn on something that never was. Walking away from him tears me apart, my broken heart leaving trails of blood behind my footsteps.

It’ll always hurt loving him, whether we’re together or apart. But, at least apart, he can’t add more hurt to an already paralyzing pain I’ll never get over.

Ever.

* * *

Nicoli

I spentmy life trying to protect her. But nothing could protect her from me. I’ve ruined her, stained everything pure in her soul. She’s jaded and broken because of me—because I couldn’t stop myself…from falling in love with her.

ChapterSixteen

NICOLI

That night continues to burn in my mind. It’s on constant repeat, never fading. The heat of her desire still lingers and intensifies every time I think about it.

When I close my eyes, I see her. Her beautiful face, blood-red lips that tasted better than I ever could have imagined, and her naked body with downright killer curves. My fucking poison. In the memories, she’s right there, ripe for the taking. All I have to do is reach out. My cock is buried in someone else’s pussy, yet all I can think about is that I want it to be her. I want her on her goddamn back, her thighs spread and cunt weeping for me, moaning and arching her back as I pump into her. I want it to be her that begs for more of me, and I would willingly oblige by giving her everything I have.

One wouldn’t say it was one of the worst fucking nights of my life, not when I relished the sight of her moving her hips, rocking her body as another woman eats her pussy. Mira was painfully beautiful and radiant in her desire. I’ve jerked off numerous times imagining my palm was her, but I could never have conjured up a fantasy as exquisitely dirty and crazy as the one that played out the other night.

It wasn’t part of the plan. Mira was supposed to walk in and see me fuck Paula, cry and run away, and never speak to me again. That’s what needed to happen, but I underestimated my little hummingbird. She saw right through me and called my bluff; she showed me a side of her I never knew existed. The way she touched herself and fucked Paula’s mouth, Mira was seduction and ecstasy rolled into the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen—and that says a lot since I spend most nights at Myth.

I was entranced. Beguiled by her. My eyes followed her every move, mesmerized by how she moved, confidence oozing from her pores. I drank her in, savoring every moan that left her lips, hating that it was Paula’s tongue getting her off and not mine. I wanted to be the one who tasted her, lapped her up and made her wild with cries of pleasure as she rode my face, her arousal gushing past my lips. Just the thought is enough to drive me crazy. Imagine how fucked I’d be if I did what I wanted to do—yank her off Paula’s face, bend her over, and slide so deep inside her pussy she’d see goddamn stars. But I didn’t. Instead, I watched her with awe and admiration while the reality of it all crushed me. I knew that every second I allowed it to continue, our silent bond was breaking, crumbling, fucking rupturing, but I couldn’t stop. The cold bastard in me was too selfish. I knew it would be the closest I’d ever get to her, and I took it. I used every moment to fill the longing I’ve been living with for so long. Mira’s presence consumed my entire being, and nothing else mattered at that moment. Only the two of us existed. Sure, my cock was still inside Paula’s greedy body, but it could have been anyone as far as I was concerned. She became invisible to me. All she succeeded in doing was fading into the background while I watched Mira transcend from innocence to sensuality right before my fucking eyes.

It took everything in me not to unleash my most torrid desires on Mira’s body, which seemed so damn willing. Her green eyes were swimming with lust—hungry and consumed. But there was something else too. Something she tried to hide, but to me, it was clear as fucking day. It was pain. Hurt. Betrayal. It sliced into my soul every time she let out a breath. That was the only thing stopping me from taking her, forgetting the promise I made and making her mine in every way known to man.

But the real doozy, the most profound mind-fuck, was when I decided to go after her because I wanted to make it right. I wanted to kiss away every trace of heartache I caused her. My goddamn soul screamed for me to take her in my arms and never let go. I can’t explain it. It’s like something switched inside me, and I went from wanting her to hate me to needing her to love me in zero fucking seconds. It was a complete one-eighty shift I had no control over, as if it all clicked into place, and I was ready to throw all my inhibitions to the wind so I could just love her. Just fucking love her without caring what the repercussions might be because all that mattered was showing her that my heart had always been hers. I was ready to take the leap, to try to make shit right. But when I found her in the shower swathed in a cloud of sorrow, her body shaking and her agonized sobs painting the walls with her pain, the universe reminded me why I did the most fucked-up thing a man could ever do to a woman.

Excruciating guilt crashed over me and sobered me from the haze of wishful thinking. My mind flooded with regret and shame for what I had done to her. It was then I realized my apology would never be enough because how can you expect someone to love you if all you know how to do is hurt them?

So, I let her go, even after her declaration of love pulverized me…I let her go. And now here I am, days later and still fucking miserable.

Alexius walks into the Dark Sovereign room, fixing me with a hard stare, then looks at the bottle of bourbon in my hands. He raises an eyebrow. “She still not speaking to you?”

I take a swig straight from the bottle. “Nope.”

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck it is you did?”

“Nope.”

“Is the bourbon helping?”

I smack my tongue, staring at the liquid that makes it all suck less, yet provides zero comfort. “Nope.”

“Then why are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?”

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