Page 3 of Nico (Members From Money Season 2, #154)

He leaned in, his forehead brushing hers. "You keep saying that, and I keep hoping you'll tell me why. But you never do." His voice was gentle, the way one speaks to a songbird perched on a fingertip, trusting it not to take flight.

The silence seemed to stretch, thick with everything unsaid.

She inhaled, slow and ragged. "I'm terrified, Nico.

Of losing myself. Of becoming her, or worse, a shadow behind you, known only by the name I marry into rather than the one I built for myself.

" Her words spilled out, jagged and raw, leaving her breathless.

He listened, patient. "You are the furthest thing from a shadow, Sadie. You light up every room you enter, whether you try to or not. I'm not asking you to become anyone but who you already are. I want us. The real thing. Even if the spotlight burns."

The sincerity in his voice pressed against the thorns of her doubt, and for a fleeting second, she let herself imagine it. Walking into that ballroom on his arm, heads turning, but her heart uncurling, unafraid.

She looked away, then back at him, letting a tiny, reluctant smile flicker across her lips. "You're relentless."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a maybe." She heaved out a sigh. "There are other issues involved."

"Such as?"

"Your family."

"Let me handle them." Drawing her into his arms, he touched her lips with his. "And table this discussion. I have an urgent need for you."

*****

He woke up at four in the morning as was his habit and sat there for a few minutes staring at her.

She was curled up in the fetal position, her hands cradling her cheek and her hair spilling over one shoulder.

The thin light from the moon was streaming through the emerald green drapes and allowing him to see and study her features.

She was spectacularly beautiful. She had mentioned something about a mixture of Caucasian and Indian in her ancestry from her mother's side, which accounted for the defined cheekbones and the color of her skin.

Her mouth was full and ripe and slightly swollen from his kisses.

He could not get enough of the taste of her.

No woman had ever taken him over like this before.

He loved women of course, was fascinated by the differences and their complex nature.

He had dated indiscriminately in the past. Females seemed to be drawn to him and as one date had told him, it had something to do with his scholarly look and the fact that he did not care about his appearance.

He privately thought it had more to do with his name than anything else.

But he never held that against them. He had also never been so involved that he wanted to take a wife and start a family. His work absorbed him.

He was difficult to live with and would never dream of putting anyone through the discomfort of trying to understand and accept him.

His family had expected him to take up his rightful place at the helm of the company and had pushed for him to go to the best college and learn about the business.

So, he had a master's in science and one in creative art as well.

He had started being fascinated with sculpting and painting while he was in high school and had secretly decided that's what he wanted to do with his life.

The arguments from his parents had been many as they tried to sway him to change his mind, but he had inherited his mother's stubborn streak and had not budged.

He had turned thirty-five in June and for the first time in his life, he was thinking about marriage and a family.

Ironically, the woman he wanted those with was not ready for that kind of commitment and he was going to have to be patient. He was a patient man and could wait. What he was not going to do was allow her to stay away from him. That was not negotiable.

Even as dawn pressed gently at the edges of the curtains, Nico felt the familiar ache of longing settle in his chest. He wondered if Sadie could sense the current of resolve thrumming beneath his quiet exterior, a stubbornness equal to hers, forged not in rebellion but in devotion.

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her brow, memorizing the vulnerable peace etched into her sleeping face.

The city would soon rouse, insistent and hungry, yet for now, the world had narrowed to the hush of shared breaths and the rhythm of her dreams. He traced the line of her jaw, marveling at how quickly his life had become divided: the time before her and the time after.

He thought of the legacy his family guarded so fiercely, the weight of expectation draped across his shoulders like an ornate mantle.

He had always resented it, always chosen his own path, a path of marble dust and color-stained hands, far from boardrooms and balance sheets.

Yet with her beside him, even the notion of compromise seemed bearable, as if love itself had redefined what was possible.

Sadie stirred, lashes fluttering. A slow smile, drowsy and unguarded, curved her lips. She mumbled something indecipherable and burrowed deeper into the pillow. Nico's heart ached with affection, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder.

He made a silent promise then, binding as any vow: he would give her all the time she needed. He would protect the flame of her independence, never asking her to dim it for him. But he would also fight, gently but relentlessly, for the future he glimpsed each time she let him in.

Outside, the first birds began to sing, their notes threading through the quiet room. The day awaited, uncertain, unpromised, and full of hope.

*****

Her eyes flickered open slowly. At first, she had a moment of confusion as she wondered where she was and then she remembered. Remembering had her jolting to full awareness and the aches and soreness of a body well used.

She was at Nico's place. Turning her head, she was startled to see his long, lanky frame sitting Indian style next to her, busily sketching.

"Hi." He glanced up at her and then back at the drawing pad, long fingers busy.

"Hi. What're you doing?"

"Sketching you." He gave her an absent smile before continuing.

"Naked?"

"What?" He looked up with a frown.

"You're sketching me naked?" She sat up, using the sheets to cover her body.

"Of course."

"I never gave you permission."

"Creative freedom," he reminded her absently.

"You keep saying that. Why are you sketching me naked?"

He gave her a surprised look. "Why not?"

"Nico!"

"What?" He anticipated her move and blocked it as she tried to grab the book from him. "Are you worried I'll sell it to your gallery?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I was not thinking that, but now I am. You have no right..."

"I think I will call it 'Beauty in repose'." He grinned as her eyes flashed fire.

She snatched a pillow and lobbed it at him. He caught it deftly, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes. "You're impossible," she declared, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

"I'm inspired," he countered, holding the sketchbook out of reach. "You're the one who fell asleep looking like a goddess."

She rolled her eyes, but the flush coloring her cheeks betrayed her. "You're incorrigible."

"True. But you're luminous. I can't help wanting to capture it." He set the pad aside and leaned closer, the teasing fading from his expression. "I won't show anyone, Sadie. Not unless you want me to. Some things are just for us. I am accumulating quite a bit for my private collection."

Her indignation softened. She studied him for a moment, then reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "You're such a sap," she murmured, but her fingers lingered.

He caught her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips. The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting everything in gold. For a moment, all the world felt gentle, and enough.

"How about some breakfast? Since it's Sunday, I thought we could go for a ride and spend the rest of the day together."

"I have to go home sometime. I have laundry piling up..."

"Why don't we go back to your place and I help you?" he suggested, causing her to raise her tapered brows.

"You want to help me do laundry."

He nodded. "I'm not completely useless, you know."

She gave a pointed look to the clothes lying around on every surface. "This says otherwise."

"Okay, not a perfect example, but I can be industrious." He looked around the room with a grimace. "And domestic."

"Rich guy like you?" Her brows arched. "I bet you had servants coming out of your ears."

"I was not spoiled." He was quick to point that out. "Nadine and I had to learn to be independent. Mother insisted on it. We even went to public schools..." At her laughing expression, he backtracked. "Okay, maybe not full out public school, but near enough."

He was so adorably earnest, she thought, her body quickening. His hair was shaggy and disheveled and unfashionably long. Most men in his position would be primping and wearing the latest designs. But not him. She was badly attracted to him, enough to end the debate and jump his bones.

He saw the look on her face and felt his throat tightening. She had a very expressive face, and he could clearly see her thoughts revealed there.

"What about coffee?"

"It can wait."

"I completely agree." He started to reach for her, but she shook her head, a glint in her eyes.

"I think I want to be on top."

His breath quickened. "I'm so confident in my manhood, that I don't mind one bit."

"Good." She climbed over him and wrapped her hands around his neck. "The first time I saw you, I thought you were a professor." She blew in his ear and sent his blood pressure skyrocketing.

"Why..." He had to clear his throat and even so, the words were stuck.

"You look the part. Rumpled and sexy." She was nibbling her way to his mouth.

"Uhm." was all he could manage before she sucked his bottom lip between her teeth. With just that, he was hard as steel. And maddened with the need to devour her.