“Yeah?” His eyes are searching for something on my face. His, I learn, has three tiny moles on the otherwise flawless olive expanse. One by his left eye, another on his right cheek, the last just underneath the right side of his bottom lip.
“The fact that it was something new or different—” He takes another step closer. “—or a really, really bad idea,” I finish. I hearmy heart pumping blood now, surging through my ears, up my temples.
We’re inches apart. The back of my head presses against the tree as I look up at him, the edges of the bark a sharp punctuation to my sudden dizziness. His eyes that clear, solid brown. Warm, sure, dependable. Melted chocolate.
I want to fall in?—
slip into that sweet,
greedy for wonder,
willing to drown.
“Impulsive,” I tack on. I’m whispering now. Anything louder might break the fraught fragility of this moment. “I get off on being impulsive. On the adrenaline that comes with it.” There’s an internal pressure pushing against my chest and throat. My breasts, my shoulders, everything feels heavy. He’s so close I can feel the heat of him through our clothes. One more thing leaves my mouth, unbidden. “Fun,” I sigh. “It was justfun.”
The corner of Nico’s mouth tips up as he finds what he’s looking for. He moves in.
It’s not what I expect, though, because he diverts at the last second. Runs his nose up the line of my jaw, his exhales dragging hot along my neck.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, my hands reaching behind me and gripping the tree for dear life.
“Oh, honey,” he breathes into my ear, activating every single nerve ending on my neck. His own breathing is erratic. “I can see your pulse fluttering like a pretty little hummingbird. I haven’t even touched you yet.”
He shifts down. Hovers right over my pulse point, pulls gently at it, open-mouthed, then presses his tongue against it, feather light.
My knees buckle.
He moves again, his mouth millimeters from mine as we share several breaths for the span of several moments.
The first brush of our lips is whisper soft. A question.
The second is a definitive answer. Nico’s never been so sure of anything in his life, the way he finally takes my mouth and lays claim.
The weight of his lips on mine is perfection. Soft yet firm, top lip then bottom. Insistent. I let out a sigh of relief. This spurs him on, and he uses his thumb to open my mouth so he can slide his tongue in, a delicious draw and suctioning pull, and I melt between his body and the tree.
A hand tangles in my hair, fists it by the root and tugs lightly in a way that sparks down my back. He angles my head in another direction, his tongue winding around and across mine, playing, toying, fucking. Learning the inside of my mouth and taking notes. His solid weight presses like a slow roll of electricity, just like last night against the car, just like a few days ago, except it’s a freaking tree behind me this time. But it’s so nice to be back.
I need to get my hands in his hair. I want to be the reason it’s a mess, but I get distracted by the firmness of his arms, his stomach, his chest, and the way he sucks on my tongue and nips at my lips. Finally, I get there and it’s soft, so soft, and I tug at it, my nails scratching at his scalp.
Nico likes that, letting out a groan from deep in his gut. One of his hands moves to my throat, the other down my thigh, and so slowly, he lifts my leg and wraps it around his hip, and now I know I was right. I get off on the adrenaline rush, because it spikes through my veins and directly into my clit.
He presses his length, impossibly hard, right where I need it, a place he knows and is familiar with.
I gasp into his mouth.
He grunts.
On the second thrust, we both open our eyes. His forehead leans against mine, and I stare into brown eyes that have gone unfocused and hazy.
We blink.
That’s when the comedown happens.
Shit.
I bring my leg down.
“I didn’t tell you about Sister Annie,” I say into the space between our lips.
