And I know he feels it too.
Nico pushes his chair back and stands.
Two steps bring him around the table. The kitchen suddenly feels too small to contain both of us.
His hand lifts and cups my face, warm and steady against my cheek. His thumb brushes lightly along my skin, the touch almost careful, like he’s testing whether I’m real.
“Tell me to go,” he says quietly, his voice breaking just a little on the last word. “Before we do something we both regret.”
The words hit me like an echo from another life.
That same warning.
That same moment.
My chest tightens with the memory of it, the ghost of that night flickering through me so vividly it almost hurts.
“Will I?” I whisper. My voice sounds softer than I expect. “Regret it?”
For a second he just looks at me.
I see the recognition there, the memory passing through him too. He remembers exactly what I said the last time he asked me that question.
He knows now that I remember it too.
His throat moves as he swallows. “Definitely,” he murmurs.
I don’t tell him to go.
He doesn’t step back.
Instead, he leans down and kisses me.
And the moment his mouth touches mine, every year we spent pretending the other didn’t exist collapses into nothing.
10
NICO
Iback Izzy up against the kitchen counter, my hands framing her face as our lips crash together.
Seven years of silence, of shadows and what-ifs, pour out in this kiss. I've dreamed of her mouth, her taste, every night since that club.
Holding back has been hell. I did it for her sake, for the life she deserved without my darkness.
But I can’t help the beast clawing at my chest from within. Not anymore.
She ismine.
Her fingers dig into my shirt, pulling me closer, and something inside me fractures. No more restraint. I need her now, all of her, the way I've ached for since the moment I let her slip away.
I hoist her up onto the counter, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively. My mouth trails down her neck, nipping at the skin I've memorized in my mind. She gasps, arching into me, and I tug her shirt up, exposing her breasts to the cool air.
I take one nipple between my lips, sucking hard, then grazing it with my teeth. The sound she makes—raw, needy—fuels the fire I've banked for so long.
“God, Izzy, I've fucking missed you,” I murmur against her skin, voice thick with the years of longing.
“Me too,” she gasps. “Missed you so—ah!—so fucking much.”
