She smiled. “You have dimples,” she whispered.
He pushed deeper. He wanted to be so deep inside her, she wouldn’t have breath enough to whisper. So deep she wouldn’t have breath enough to breathe.
She crooked her finger, and he pushed deeper still as he lowered himself.
She gasped. “That,” she whispered.
He pushed deeper.
She dug her nails in his back. “Little prince.”
And deeper.
He watched her throat and heard her barely choke out the words.
“Is. Not. Getting. A. Happy. Ending.”
He grinned, clutching her head, moving faster and deeper. “He’s already got it. It’s just. About. Here.”
And with one final thrust, every cell in him exploded just before he collapsed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
NICO AND ROCCO
Nico stood looking out the window of the private home Rocco had rented. Her gaze slipped from the olive trees and citrus groves dotting the sloping hills below. Beyond that was another small medieval village situated on a peninsula that was bathed by the Adriatic Sea on the east side and the Ionian Sea on the west.
The days with Rocco’s family had been lovely. She’d never tired of them although she was glad to be alone with Rocco now. At his family’s home, every night he’d come into her room, and they’d made love in a way Nico hadn’t thought possible. Quiet and hushed yet at the same time urgent and passionate. During the day, there was nothing obvious to indicate they were lovers—no holding of hands, no kissing. But there was the way they looked at each other, the fire in their eyes and the desire in their voices when they spoke. Nico couldn’t tell whether or not his family noticed. Although she frequently caught Sofia and Beatrice looking at her and then at him, smiling and giggling.
She was glad there was no public display. She didn’t feel altogether comfortable making their relationship known to his family. At least not yet. But, she thought with a pang, perhaps not ever. She still didn’t know what this would look like when the season started up again. And more importantly, she still didn’t know what he was thinking. He must be as uncomfortable about it as she was—possibly even more. After all, he never made any overture that would have told his family … what?
She couldn’t say they were in love. That couldn’t be true. If it were, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from making it known. Isn’t thatwhat happened when people were in love? How could she know when she’d never experienced it herself?
Her phone rang. She jumped.
Ever since Monte Carlo, those mysterious calls from Italian phone numbers had stopped. She couldn’t decide whether she should feel relieved or more concerned.
Even now, she couldn’t decide when she saw that it was Charles. Her first impulse had been to heave a huge sigh of relief, but on the tail end of that sigh hung a vague fear that never seemed to leave her.
“Hello, Charlemagne.”
She’d already told Charles what had happened between her and Rocco. Charles filled her in on the latest details surrounding his relationship with Mateo and then made Nico describe where they were staying when she refused to describe the characteristics of Rocco’s penis.
“What about once racing starts up? How are you guys going to handle it?” Charles asked.
Nico swallowed the stone that lodged in her throat and sank to her stomach whenever she thought about going back to racing. It should be something she was looking forward to. It was. She wanted to race. But now her relationship with Rocco had complicated the matter.
“We haven’t talked about it. I keep meaning to bring it up and then something gets in the way.”
“His dick?”
Nico laughed. “No!”
“His ass?”
“Stop it!”
“And he hasn’t brought it up?”
