“I can’t stand you,” I mutter, dropping my chin so I don’t have to stare into his laughing eyes.
“Then you should’ve picked a different man to pretend to be your fiancé, but seeing as you have me, you might as well use me.” He drags the tip of his nose over my cheekbone and ghosts his lips over the shell of my ear. “I promise, you’ll enjoy it.”
Goose bumps skate over my skin, and my voice comes out in a breathy plea. “Nico.”
“Yeah, mama?”
“Stop trying to seduce me.”
That earns a chuckle and one single step away from me, and finally, I can breathe again.
At least until he curves his hands around either side of my head, forcing my gaze up. “At least let me kiss you so you can make an informed decision.”
The voices in the back of my head scream at me, call me names, make me feel like I’m nothing, like I’m not worthy of anyone, least of all Nico Tremblay.
Then I think of the Post-it on my mirror—the one that tells me I can’t change what people say about me, but I can choose not to listen to them.
For once, I don’t.
I silence those voices with one single word. “Okay.”
Nico wastes no time, sweetly brushing his mouth along mine once, twice, a third time. Then his tongue is there, sliding over my lower lip before he tugs at it with his own, prodding at me to meet him where he is, in this dance that I don’t know. I never learned the steps, but he keeps time, slipping one hand down to my waist, pulling me close, and I can’t do anything except lean into him. He bends me slightly, my back arching over his forearm, while he combs his other hand into my hair, angling my head the way he wants it.
I follow his lead, hesitantly licking into his mouth, searching for his tongue, and when I find it, he hums appreciatively. As if I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to.
This is as far as I’ve ever gone, kissing four men, and none of the experiences knocked my socks off. I never knew what to do. I never knew where to put my hands, and I was so worried about doing it right that I couldn’t enjoy it, but here with Nico, I don’t think about anything outside of the press of his fingertips on my scalp and at my back. Of the slide of his tongue along mine and the gentle scrape of his teeth over my lip when he changes the angle once more. I am so enthralled, I can only cling to him, fist his shirt in my hands, and press up on my toes, needing closer and more and all of it.
I need whatever he is willing to offer me.
I need to know what it all feels like.
I need to keep those voices silent.
And when Nico finally pulls away from me with a soft, close-lipped kiss to my mouth and then cheek, his hands around my jaw, I blurt out a dazed, “Wow.”
He hums, sounding dazed himself. “Yeah. Wow.” Then he drags the pad of his thumb over my lip. “I love your mouth.”
I huff a laugh, but when he remains serious, I shake my head. “You do?”
It’s his turn to huff. “Yeah, Jo. I’m kind of obsessed with it.”
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “Obsessed enough to want to…”
“Kiss it? Fuck it? Dream about it?”
He dreams about it?
As if he can hear my thoughts, he sweeps his thumb over my bottom lip again. “Can you blame me?”
“No one’s ever been obsessed with any part of me before.”
“Good. That means I can have you all to myself.”
I close my eyes, warning myself not to get carried away. This isn’t real, and I’m not special. He may be offering up his services, but I would be merely another notch on his belt.
I’m not opposed to it, yet I know his practiced words are simply that—words.
None of this is real.
