Page 21

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NICO AND ROCCO

H is fingers brushed against her cheek as he took a strand of her hair and gently tucked it behind her ear.

It was tender and sweet.

But he wasn’t those things. Was he?

He leaned in, and his words fluttered over her flesh like winged birds.

“I can be tender. I can be sweet.” He placed his hand on her cheek, grazing her cheekbone with his thumb as he gazed into her eyes. And then his eyes flashed as he grabbed a fistful of her hair. “And I can be not tender. And not sweet.” He pulled her head back, exposing her throat.

Her breath grew unsteady as though she were choking on it.

He grazed her nipples with his thumb.

She shut her eyes.

He pinched—hard—and thrust his groin into her, releasing a sudden flood of hot liquid that threatened to drown her.

He let go of her hair, and she looked up at him. She suddenly realized he had her up against a car.

“Get up on that hood.”

The sound of his voice shook her like the throttle of an engine. She hadn’t wanted to before, but now she thrilled at the idea, feeling a humming between her legs as though she had a Ducati between them.

As she hoisted herself up onto the hood, she felt the length of his body rub against her own and began to shake so violently, she thought she might fall.

But he gripped her hips to steady her. Once she was sitting on the hood, he glanced down at her thighs.

He placed a hand gently on each knee. He didn’t need to push. She opened them for him.

As she did, she realized she was wearing his shirt.

“It looks nice on you,” he said. “ Like a dress.”

His hands slid up her thighs.

“Gentlemen, start your engines.”

Her heart jumped. Was she wearing underwear?

He grinned.

I’ll know. Soon enough.

His hands inched up. And with each inch, the heavy throbbing between her thighs extinguished one of those red lights that signaled the start of the race once they were all out: five—four—three—two …

He stopped, his thumb brushing back and forth along the edge of the shirt’s hem. Not three inches away from …

His hands slid under and …

All. The. Way.

Up.

And.

In.

She gasped.

“You’ve been waiting for me.”

There was only a brief flicker in his eyes before they disappeared and she felt his hot breath between her thighs followed by his wet tongue, gliding along the lips of her vagina.

The blood in her veins bubbled, and she began to feel as though every bone in her body had dissolved into some sort of languid liquid.

Soon, I’ll be a puddle at his feet.

A sudden jolt shot through her as his wet tongue slipped inside and sparks of electricity flickered through her veins, making her entire body quake.

He took her throat in his hands and pushed her back until she was lying on top of the hood.

He loomed over her and thrust himself so deep inside her, she felt as though he’d stolen her breath.

She clutched his shoulders, needing something to hold on to because every quiver, tremble, and quake cut through what was left of her.

Nico jolted upright.

Damn.

She flung the covers aside, half expecting she might see him there. Once her breathing returned to normal, she went into the bathroom and took a quick shower. Afterward, she walked down the hallway of the Barcelona Airbnb she and Charles were staying in and entered the kitchen.

Her heart leapt in anticipation when she saw the French press sitting on the counter.

She picked it up. There was coffee in it, and it was still hot. She poured herself a cup.

“Good morning.”

She swung around at the sound of Charles’s voice.

His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a man in your bedroom.”

“Don’t be absurd! There’s no man in my bedroom!”

“There’s no need to shout about it.”

Had she been shouting?

Charles peered intently at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because from the look on your face, there’s either a man in your room or you had a very delicious dream and took matters into your own hand.”

“I already told you there is no man in my room.”

What’s more, I didn’t need my own hand.

“So, by process of elimination …”

Nico sighed. Charles wouldn’t let up until she told him. She didn’t have to give him details—just enough to shut him up.

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean, yes and no ? It can’t be both.” Charles paused. “Unless … you didn’t need to take matters into your own hands. The dream was that good? Lucky girl. Details, please.”

“No, I don’t feel like it.”

“What’s the deal? We’ve always talked about our sexy dreams before.” Suddenly Charles’s eyes widened and he slapped both cheeks with his palms. “Oh!”

“ Oh what?”

Nico took a sip of coffee. It gave her an excuse to lower her head so she wouldn’t have to meet Charles’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Just tell me this,” Charles said. “Is this a fictional man or a man we both know and love?”

“Neither.”

“Aha! Is he, by chance, a prick?”

Nico could feel her cheeks burning. “Just stop already!”

“Oh my.” He clapped his hands, a giddy smile on his face.

“So, the prick makes house calls. If he’s that good in the dreaming world, makes you wonder what he’s like in the waking one when he’s made of all that sumptuous flesh and not just the pixie dust of dreams. It might almost be too good. If there is such a thing.”

“Stop already, I don’t want to talk about him.” Nico pushed past Charles and flopped onto the living room sofa. “When’s your flight? Is Mateo still driving you?”

“Yes,” Charles sighed. “I plan on enacting a romantic airport scene from a film.”

Nico grinned. “Which one?”

“ The Mexican . Once we hear those ominous words, Boarding flight 101 at gate 101 in terminal 101 ”—Charles struck a dramatic pose—“I will turn to him and say, If two people love each other, but they can’t seem to get it together, when do you get to that point that enough is enough? ”

Nico struck a theatrical pose of her own. “And he’ll respond, Never .”

“He better,” Charles said, collapsing on the sofa beside her. “I’m going to take it as a sign. If he says the right thing, then I know it’s meant to be.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll turn on my heels, fart, and walk away so quickly everyone will think it was him.”

They both doubled over with laughter.

“Wait a minute,” Nico said once the laughter subsided, “I think there are some potential flaws in your plan. Can you fart on command?”

“I’m getting a smoothie on the way to the airport.

It will be comprised of whole wheat, bran, prunes, peaches, apples, pears, asparagus, artichokes, cauliflower, cabbage, Brussels sprouts, and broccoli.

Not to mention I’m also going to have a latte and ask for regular milk rather than almond, and you know I’m lactose intolerant. ”

Nico felt sorry for all the poor souls who would be trapped on that airplane with Charles.

“Well,” she said, “that should do it, but what if he says the right thing and his last memory of you is one fabulous, formidable, far-reaching, far-flung, farfegnugen fart?”

“If he says the right thing, that means he’s in love. And as everyone knows, love not only leaves you deaf, dumb, and blind but olfactorily challenged. I read that somewhere. Can’t remember where. He’ll be so flooded with oxytocin, he’ll think they should bottle and sell my farts.”

Nico’s brow wrinkled. “You sure about that?”

“I once had a lover who said my farts smelled like hot cocoa with—get this—marshmallows.”

Nico laughed as she went into the kitchen and poured herself a second cup.

Charles followed and poured himself another cup as well. “I just realized something. That quote from The Mexican is really more fitting for you than me. I wonder if that’s why my brain came up with it. Maybe it was actually thinking of you and Rocco.”

Nico’s mouth dropped. “There is no me and Rocco!”

Charles’s lip curled while one eyebrow made a quick jolt up and down like an ascending elevator that had suddenly been forced to stop as a result of someone pushing the red alarm button.

Nico suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.

“What’s going on with you?” Charles asked, looking at her as though her head had suddenly begun spinning around atop her neck. “Why are you acting so strange?”

“Me? You’re the one who’s acting strange!”

Charles wagged his finger. “Something’s different. Something has definitely changed. When I asked about your dream, which featured one Rocco Vittori, you said you didn’t want to talk about him . ”

“So? I don’t.”

“You don’t see it.”

“See what?”

“You didn’t say annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick —you said him . What happened when the two of you were locked in that room?”

“I already told you. We came to an understanding and agreed to work as a team. That’s it.”

Charles gazed at the wall in front of him. Nico felt her cheeks sizzle. She felt as though he could literally see the writing on the wall put there by the fairy dust of her dream.

Here lies Nico’s salacious thoughts about the sublime shoulders, agile arms, luscious loins, transcendent torso, awe-inspiring ass, and delicious dimples above said ass of one Rocco Vittori and all her vivid imaginings of his dreamy eyes, the cool bristle of his shadowy cheek, and that voice that hits her right between the thighs, making her swoon.

Swoon?

She hadn’t swooned. Never had. Never would.

No swoon.

“How exactly did that understanding come about?” Charles asked. “You never said.”

Nico threw up her hands in exasperation and almost spilled some coffee as a result. “We hardly had a choice. I told you what Casey said.”

Charles threw her a sidelong glance. “Something happened. I can tell. Your dream has betrayed you, Nico Angelini.”

She sighed. “We both apologized for the things we said over social media, and we agreed to work together. Shit, we have to. I know I have to or I’ll be out.”

“Which one of you apologized first?”

“He did. Now, you have to get ready, or you won’t have enough time for the methane smoothie before your flight.”