I didn’t just make out with him. I kissed him like my life depended on it and dry humped him until I came in a fiery blast of orgasmic bliss.
My lips tingle, and the memories of this morning bring a smile to my face. For a man who doesn’t enjoy kissing, Nico’s really freakinggood at it.
It’s a shame he had to leave for the stadium for a game this afternoon. Especially since I’m finishing my rotation on the night shift this week and we probably won’t see each other for a few days.
Probably for the best. My chin is chafed from his short beard, and my lips are swollen and chapped, and yet I could have stayed in his bed all day, kissing him.
No one has ever kissed me the way Nico does. He kisses with his whole body, pouring every ounce of emotion and desire into each delicious stroke of his tongue, nibble on my lip, or brush of his hands along the curves of my body.
There isn’t a word to describe how he makes me feel. It’s as if his presence alone awakens every cell in my body like a jolt of electricity. My heart races, and butterflies take flight in my belly. And when he kisses me, there’s an electrifying transfer of energy between us that is utterly exhilarating and addicting.
Nico is not the man I imagined him to be. There are so many layers to his story, facets to his personality, and so much depth to his soul. By his own design, Nico’s public persona doesn’t represent his true character, which makes him even more intriguing to me.
Everything I thought I knew about Nico was wrong.
Do I still want to freak out and run away? Hell yes.
But my desire to be with him is much stronger, and it grows by the day. He’s been transparent about his life, and while I didn’t enjoy hearing all he had to say about his past—especially the part about his time with Charlotte—I’m glad I did.
Both sides of the same story can be true. Nico was a jerk to my sister, but that doesn’t mean he’s a jerk now. He took me a little by surprise when he mentioned attending therapy, and I have to admit, knowing that made me like him more.
My phone rings in my hand, Charlotte’s name flashing across the screen for a video call.
I swipe accept. “Hey, Char.”
“Oh, thank goodness, you’re alive. And don’t you casually ‘hey, Char’ me. You scared the living daylights out of me. What the heck, Savannah?”
I wince at her shrill shouting, shame and guilt making me uneasy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hang up on you like that. My neighbor was in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble? Are you okay? Is your neighbor okay?”
I lower my voice to calm my sister, who is speaking a mile a minute. “I’m absolutely fine. I promise. My neighbor needed some medical help. It’s all good now.”
“Okay, good.” She places her hand on her chest and takes a few deep breaths. “Please never do that to me again.”
“I won’t. I promise. I’m truly sorry for scaring you.” I hold up my pinky finger like we did when we were kids, and it brings a small smile to her face.
“You are forgiven. But since you scared me half to death, I kind of…” A guilty look crosses her face and, like I do when I’m nervous, she gnaws her bottom lip.
“You kind of what, Charlotte? What did you do?”
Charlotte leans out of view and pops up holding my adorable nephew. This is going to be bad if she’s using Thomas as a shield. “I called Dad. Then he called Denver, and well…”
“Seriously, you guys called Denver? Wait, what did Dad say? Did you tell him I moved?”
“Tell your auntie Savy not to yell at mommy,” my sister says to Thomas, who coos.
“Charlotte!”
“I told him. He’s not mad, just worried. But…”
A hard knock on my door startles me. I look from the door to my sister, and she winces. “Please tell me that’s not Denver.”
“That’s notnotDenver,” she answers.
I groan. “Dammit, Char, you’re going to pay for this.”
“Hey, you were the one who left me hanging overnight. You could’ve been dead. I had to do something.”
