Page 247 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

Something flickers across Nico’s face—pain, anger, maybe even a hint of understanding—but it’s too fast for me to catch. He stumbles back a step, his chest heaving as he stares at me. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like he’s fighting for control.

“Fuck,” he mutters, like he doesn’t know whether he should kiss me or turn right back around and walk out of here. “Fa male solo a guardarti. è come la peggiore delle torture. Do you have any idea what seeing you does to me?”

I stay quiet because I don’t think he’s looking for an answer. Not yet. I can tell by the guarded way he’s looking at me that he’s still sizing up the situation, still probably trying to convince himself that it isn’t some kind of trap, or his own mind playing tricks on him.

But I do know. I know exactly what it does to him, because having him so close to me again—feeling his touch and looking into his eyes—does the same damn thing to me.

Every fucking time.

His eyes drop to my chest, right where I slashed through those three marks. That cut is halfway healed and hidden beneath my shirt, but it still feels like his eyes are burning into me.

My breath catches and my hand automatically twitches, wanting to cover the spot, but I force myself to stay still until he looks up to meet my gaze again.

I did this. I chose this. Being away from them has been the worst form of torture I’ve ever endured, but there’s no point in pretending I wouldn’t do it all over again if I was faced with the same impossible choice.

His gaze drops even lower, settling on my left hand. I feel a stab of pain right through my heart as I realize he’s staring at the ring that Malcolm gave me.

My wedding ring.

Nico’s entire body goes stiff, every muscle visibly locking into place.

“So it’s done.” There isn’t a question in his tone. Only a tense, cold finality that I almost can’t stand to hear.

I nod, because that’s all I can do. I won’t lie, and I can’t take it back, but right now, the weight of this fucking ring feels like it could drag me straight through the floor.

Still, when he finally looks up at me to meet my gaze, I lift my chin and hold his stare for what feels like an eternity even though it’s probably no more than ten or fifteen seconds.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” I’m doing my best to keep any hint of defiance out of my tone.

Nico isn’t the enemy, but I can’t afford to sugar coat anything.

My three men deserve the truth and nothing less.

“I wasn’t going to let him kill you. Or Killian.

Or Atlas. If I hadn’t made him believe I was serious, we’d all be dead by now. ”

Nico’s face is set in hard lines, and his jaw is clenched so tightly that I can see the muscles working and straining beneath his skin.

“You can hate me all you want,” I say, even though it tears me up inside to even consider the possibility. “But if I had to go back and do it all over again, I would.”

The words have barely left my mouth when he moves. I don’t have time to breathe or even react before his hand shoots out from his side and wraps around my throat. His palm is warm against my skin as his thumb settles over my pulse point.

He isn’t squeezing, just holding as he leans in until his face is just a few inches from mine. The intensity of the look he’s giving me takes my breath away more effectively than his grip ever could.

“You think I hate you?” The words come out as a growl.

My heart is beating so fast and loud that I can barely hear my own answer. “Do you?”

Nico swallows hard, a muscle in his jaw working. My question lingers in the air between us for a long moment, and then finally, he nods.

“Yes. I hate you.”

My chest tightens with a sharp, immediate pain as a rush of cold creeps over my skin.

I feel almost numb as those four words echo in my ears, and I can’t tell if I’m breathing anymore.

I can’t tell if my heart is even beating as I stare up into his eyes.

But then he lets out a slow exhale and speaks again.

“I hate that I can’t fucking breathe when I’m away from you. I hate that I need you more than air, or food, or water.” His voice drops low, turning rough. “I hate that you crashed into my life and became the fucking center of my universe.”

His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep me focused on every word he says. “I hate you so much that I would slit a man’s throat for making you shed a single tear. I hate you so much that if you told me to eat a bullet, I would. Because you fucking own me.”

The last words come out like they’re being ripped from somewhere deep inside him. His raw honesty breaks something open inside me too.

“You own me too,” I whisper past the lump in my throat. “You always have.”

His mouth crashes against mine before I can say anything else.

The kiss is desperate and hungry, full of all the need and pain and longing that’s been building since the moment I walked away from him.

He pulls me closer to him as his tongue finds mine, claiming my mouth and my body at the same time.

“Fuck, mia cara,” he groans, letting his hands roam over me—rough and possessive even through my clothes.

And even in his desperation, he’s careful to avoid the spots where my wounds are still healing. His palm cups my breast, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp into his mouth, while his other hand grabs my hip and digs in so hard it’s like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.

“Please, Nico,” I whimper, not even sure what I’m asking for. “God, I need you so much.”

I arch into his touch, craving more. After a week of Malcolm’s cold, calculating stares and awkward attempts to touch me, Nico’s rough, possessive heat feels like coming home.

“I’ve been going crazy without you,” he growls, kissing a trail down my throat before nipping at the sensitive skin at the crook of my shoulder. “We all have.”

His hands skim down to my waist, and he helps me work my pants off before reaching for the fly of his own jeans.

“You shouldn’t have left us,” he rasps, shoving his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. He doesn’t bother taking my panties off, just pushes them aside and drives into me. “I get it, but I fucking hate that you had to do it.”

His hands slide down to cup my ass, pulling me closer. His cock fills me, and the sudden stretch makes me cry out.

“I know, and I—oh, god!” I wrap a leg around his waist, desperate to get into a better position in the tiny bathroom. “I didn’t want to leave. I swear I didn’t.”

He fucks me so hard and fast that I can barely breathe, let alone think. His hips pound against mine, making the door rattle with each thrust. It’s primal and possessive and raw, and every single stroke sends shockwaves of pleasure through my core.

He works his way down my neck, alternating between kissing and using his teeth to mark my skin. My breath catches and I grab at his shoulders, holding on for dear life as the pleasure builds and builds.

And then I realize what he’s doing and my stomach drops. “Nico… Nico, wait. Wait, please.”

He slows his thrusts and then stops completely, his brow furrowing as he looks at me. Out of all the times we’ve fucked, I can’t think of a single instance that I’ve told him to slow down, let alone stop completely.

“What is it, mia cara?” He looks down at his cock, still buried balls deep inside me. “Did I…”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just…” Fuck, how am I supposed to say this? “I can’t let you leave any marks. If Malcolm sees them, he’ll know what I’ve been doing.”

Understanding and anger flash across his face in an instant, so quickly I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking. He freezes completely for a moment, then slowly, carefully pulls out of me without saying a word.

He waits a beat for me to regain my balance before taking a half-step back, and for a second I worry that he’s going to pull his jeans back up and walk out.

He’s taking just as much of a risk as I am by being here. If we were somehow caught, we’d both be dead before either of us could open our mouths.

But instead of putting more distance between us, he gives me one more hungry look up and down, then turns me around to face the door. “Put your hands on the sides of that door frame and hold on.”