Page 27 of The Woman at the Funeral (Costa Family #11)

Blair

Unfortunately for everyone, Matthew’s laptop wasn’t as easy to get into as his safe had been, since he had it fingerprint enabled.

For a full two days—where it seemed Zeno worked round the clock—for him just to get the damn thing unlocked.

I was sure there were members of the Costa family who were anxious and wanted it over.

As for me, though, I was in this dreamy little cocoon of pleasure and (dare I say it?) happiness.

And after so many hard and unhappy years, I was letting myself bask in it.

After the first day, I wouldn’t even let myself entertain thoughts of how it might be temporary, how we were just playing at a life together, not actually living one.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was how good it felt to have someone to share a deep conversation with, someone to cook with, to go on walks with, to fall into bed with, to lose myself for hours in.

Did the dreamy days when I had Nico all to myself start to create this warm, swelling sensation in my chest? Was I starting to think the sensation was the very thing that had been missing from my marriage all along? That thing that made people paint portraits and write poetry?

Yes.

But even the fear of falling too hard for something fake wasn’t enough to force me to pull back or put up my guards.

Just for once, I was going to let myself feel instead of think.

“Was he okay going with him?” I asked, heart a little broken to see Nico coming into the apartment without Goya.

“He recognized him immediately. He spent a lot of time with Brio,” Nico reminded me. “Hey, it’s just an hour or two,” he said, coming to me and reaching for my arms, forcibly uncrossing them. He pulled them up his chest to rest on his shoulders.

“I just hate to think he thinks he’s going back to the shelter.”

“I’m sure he’s going to have a good time at training.”

Goya was a good boy.

But he did need a little work on his leash manners. And I wanted him evaluated for how he did with other dogs of all different sizes and personalities. I just wanted to really know what I was getting into with his long-term future.

Besides, Brio insisted that all dogs should go to some single and group training classes.

“Gotta set ‘em up for success,” he’d said on the speaker phone when he called to talk about Goya and any questions or concerns I had.

It had been Nico who’d insisted that Brio take Goya to training for us since the training facility was only a couple blocks away from our apartment building and he didn’t want me being seen in that area yet.

“He’s going to be okay, honey,” Nico assured me, his arms going around me and pulling me up against his chest.

“What’s that look for?” I asked when his blue eyes went all gooey.

“Just getting a glimpse into the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“You, panicking that your preschooler thinks you abandoned them on their first day of school.”

There it was again.

The heart squeeze.

But this time, amplified at the idea of a family.

One with a man like him.

Someone who would be kind and committed. Someone who was capable and dedicated to being a partner.

And maybe that preschooler would have his sweet dark blue eyes. And his calm nature. And his generosity.

“You think about things like that?”

“Honey, I’ve been thinking of little else.

Well,” he said, hands sliding to cup my ass, “and other things. But, yeah, I think of things like that. About Christmas mornings, holding mugs of coffee, bleary-eyed from being up all night wrapping and stuffing presents under the tree, watching as the kids tear into the paper. About birthday parties and vacations. And about Friday night pizzas or ice cream and movie nights. About hard talks and funny family jokes.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man say anything like that,” I admitted. “But I’ve thought about all those things too. Then mourned over losing all those things. It’s still hard to remember that those dreams aren’t gone now.”

“Not gone. Just featuring a different partner being there with you.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine.

“Yeah,” I agreed, letting my arms slide around him. “Nico?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Well, you like neutrals in terms of décor. But you secretly love purple the most. Probably because it was your grandmother’s favorite color.”

Wow.

“When’s my birthday?”

“December twenty-eighth.”

“What was my grandma’s name?”

“Agatha. And you would love to use it for a baby. Either for a first or middle name.”

“What am I afraid of?”

“On a surface level: geese. You got chased once and bit on the arm.”

“And deeper than surface?” I asked, pulling back enough to look up at him.

“You’re afraid that people will see your vulnerabilities and use them against you.

You’re afraid that if you don’t tightly control everything, it will all fall apart.

You’re afraid that you’ll never be part of a family or have a family.

And, I think, beneath it all, it boils down to being terrified that you aren’t lovable. ”

His arms gave me a squeeze.

“And I’m here to tell you that the right man will help you manage everything and would never dream of using your softness against you. You can have any kind of family you decide you want. And last but certainly not least, you are absolutely, one hundred percent lovable.”

“B—”

“And I know that,” he cut me off before I could voice any kind of silly objection, “because I’ve been in love with you almost since the moment I met you.”

My heart flipped in my chest, a strange, fluttering sensation that had me sucking in a shocked breath.

“And I think I fell a little harder each time I learned something new about you over the years. I funneled them away, kept them close, knowing I couldn’t have you.”

“Nico…” I said, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Then, one day, it wasn’t forbidden anymore. But the timing felt wrong. And then I wasn’t sure how you’d feel when you learned the truth of who I am.”

“Who you are is the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever met.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t care what you do.”

I didn’t.

Not after what we’d shared over the past several weeks. And especially the last few days.

“This might not be the only time, in a life with me, where there will be danger like this. Or worse,” he warned. “And, of course, a connection with me might mean a close eye from law enforcement. New things you’d need to learn about and systems to live by.”

“Well, in that case,” I said, feeling him tense, “I guess it’s a good thing that I am a fast learner.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, voice filled with hope.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been sure about anything in my life before.”

His hands slid up to frame my face, watching me with the warmest, gooiest eyes for a moment. Then his lips were on mine, soft and sweet at first. Then harder, deeper, full of all the feelings building in us.

Nico’s arms moved down my neck, over my shoulders, followed the slope of my back, then sank into my ass. He lifted me up, his lips on mine the whole time, then carried me back to the bedroom.

He set me down on my feet, his hands drifting over mine as his tongue tangled with mine, dragging a little whimper out of me.

His fingers snagged the hem of my shirt and started to draw it slowly up.

His head dipped, lips whispering down my ear, neck, shoulder.

Goosebumps spread across my skin, little shivers racking my system as his hands grazed—gently removing my bra, my pants, my panties.

My own hands were just as needy—pushing off his jacket, his shirt, removing his belt and pants, then, finally, his underwear.

Before I could explore him, though, he was pressing me flat across the bed, his body leaning over mine, holding himself up, save for his head.

His lips were all over me then.

Sliding down my neck, over my clavicle, down my chest, then over, his tongue circling my nipple until I was arching up into him, my fingers fisted in the sheets.

He shifted slightly, lips sucking my nipple into his mouth until I cried out. Then he moved across my chest to continue the sweet torment.

I was whimpering, begging, trying to grab and pull him up, desperate for the weight of him, for the stretch of him inside me.

But he was unmoved.

He continued his path downward, tongue tracing around my belly button, then across my hips, down my thigh, the inside of my knee, calf, then back up the other leg.

Then finally— finally —slipping between.

The press of his tongue just where I needed it most sent shocks through my system, making me cry out and grab his head, holding him against me as he started to circle.

My hips rocked against him, my fingers fisting his hair, my thighs crushing his head.

I was pure, mindless need.

So much so that when I yanked hard enough on his hair, desperate for the feel of him, he finally came over me.

His hooded, heated eyes were on mine as my legs slid around him, pulling him closer, rocking against him.

“Please, Nico,” I whimpered. “Now, please.”

On a groan, Nico’s hips shifted, then he surged deep inside me.

My cries mingled with his curse.

With the need clawing at us, there was no hesitation. We were moving together, breaths mingling, gasps in sync.

I gave in completely—lost in the flood of sensation and want.

Then I came.

Gasping, clawing, utterly lost. Yet somehow found at the same time, clinging to Nico as he surged deep and came with me.

His weight came down fully on me afterward, crushing, making it hard to breathe. Still, all I did was wrap him up, holding him tighter.

It was Nico who eventually rolled, moving onto his back with me on his chest, his one arm draped around my hips. The other sifted through my hair.

“Blair,” he called, voice still orgasm-rough but edging on serious.

“Hmm?”

“We weren’t exactly… careful this time,” he reminded me.

I’d been too overwhelmed with sensation to think straight in the moment. There were talks that needed to be had, other precautions that should have been taken to prevent consequences.

“I’m, you know… well, through all of my attempts to… you know. I was… tested for everything,” I told him.

“As of six months ago, I was too,” he told me, fingertips grazing my hip. “And I have always been careful. But it’s not just that I’m talking about.”

“Right,” I agreed, but couldn’t muster a single bit of concern about that.

“I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t be upset about it, if that happens. We both want that eventually.” He paused. “I know it doesn’t fit in with your plan for engagement, marriage, and then babies. But there are happy surprises that don’t fit into plans.”

My heart felt full to bursting at that.

“Besides,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to his chest before sliding on top of him, “what are the chances?”

My lips claimed his.

And we were lost for hours in each other.