“I’m worried you’re learning.”
He handed me the water. “You’re a good teacher.”
I drank because my throat was dry and because refusing hydration after shark sex seemed like how women in horror movies got a sequel.
Nico sat on the edge of the bed, still naked, broad back marked faintly where my nails had dragged. The black shark-tooth compass on his hip shifted with his breath.
My gaze dropped to my wrist, where the tiny red chili pepper tattoo curved bright against my skin.
He followed my look. “Warning label?”
“Family crest.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely. The DeLucas have been emotionally over-seasoning every room since the dawn of time.”
He caught my wrist and kissed the little pepper.
I went quiet.
Then I pulled my hand back and stood before he could make another move that felt like it belonged too close to my heart. The room tilted for one second, and Nico reached for me before stopping himself halfway.
I pointed at him. “Don’t say anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking supportive things. I could hear it.”
“I’ll think them quieter.”
I went into the tiny bathroom and flipped on the light.
The woman in the mirror looked wild. Hair tangled around her shoulders. Lips swollen. Skin flushed. A red mark bloomed high on the side of her neck, a clean crescent with the faintest shadow of teeth.
I touched the edge once.
It should’ve scared me.
It didn’t.
It looked hot. Ridiculous. Mine.
I leaned closer and grinned at my reflection. “This beats a hickey any day.”
“What was that?” Nico called.
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Then your hearing is too good.”
His laugh came through the half-open door.
I rinsed my face, fixed what could be fixed, and left my hair down because I wasn’t ready to explain the mark to my staff, my mother, or possibly my own common sense.
When I came back out, Nico had put on his trunks and was buttoning the lower half of his shirt. The top stayed open because apparently he was committed to being a problem.
