"You're sweet."
Each word lands like a blow. Not because they hurt, but because I don't believe them. Can't believe them. Jack always said the opposite. You're too fat, too stupid, too boring, too much, not enough.
Those words carved grooves into my brain. They're the tracks my thoughts run on now.
And here's Nico, trying to lay new tracks, and I don't know how to let him.
"Answer me," he demands. "Do you love him?"
"It's none of your business."
Wrong answer.
His mouth crashes into mine.
There's nothing gentle about this kiss. It's claiming. Demanding. His lips are hard and insistent, and when I gasp, his tongue sweeps in like he owns the space. My hands fly to his chest—to push him away? To pull him closer? I don't know anymore.
A moan escapes me. Small. Needy. Embarrassing.
Nico growls against my mouth. Actually growls. His hands find my waist, grip tight, and suddenly I'm being pulled and pushed at the same time. Pulled closer to him. Pushed deeper into the mattress. His body presses against mine, all hard muscle and heat, and I feel myself melting.
More.
The thought surfaces without permission. I want more. More of his hands. More of his mouth. More of whatever this is that's burning through my veins like wildfire.
But more of what, exactly?
More of him treating me like I matter? More of him looking at me like I'm something precious instead of something broken? More of feeling wanted instead of tolerated?
His lips leave mine and trail down my jaw. My neck. I arch into him, another sound escaping—this one louder, more desperate.
"Say it," he murmurs against my throat. "Tell me you don't love him."
"I don't—" My voice cracks. "I don't love him. I haven't loved him in years."
Nico pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. His are dark. Hungry. But there's something vulnerable there too. Something that looks almost like relief.
"Good," he says simply.
Then his mouth is on mine again, and I stop thinking entirely.
His fingers find the hem of my shirt.
The fabric lifts. Cool air hits my stomach. And suddenly, I can't breathe.
He's going to see me.
"Stop."
The word comes out strangled. Desperate.
Nico freezes instantly. His hands go still against my skin. His eyes search my face, and I watch confusion replace the heat in them.
"What's wrong?"
I scramble backward on the bed, pulling my shirt down. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.
"Lily," I blurt out. "She could walk in. Like last night. She comes in without knocking and?—"
