Page 66

Katerina fights a smile, seemingly pleased by my reaction and my quick agreement that she should still avoid me. I feel her look at me a few times before she says it.

“Nico.”

My heart jumps at how her lips form over every vowel and consonant of my name.

“You’re not telling me something.”

My heart jumps. Of course Katerina figured out that I’m not telling her something. My angel isn’t a brilliant doctor for nothing. She moves her body a fraction of an inch closer to me and I can barely breathe.

“There’s a lot I’m not telling you,” I blurt out, deciding to give her this tiny bit of honesty. To my surprise, she just nods.

She’s…she’s not going to demand answers? Slap me? Tell me that she deserves to know the truth?

She shifts closer again and I can start to feel the heat of her and the smell of her floral shampoo. My heart beats even faster and my mouth dries. She closes the six inches of distance until we’re barely touching. Katerina’s eyes dip toward my hand and she tentatively moves hers so it’s lightly touching mine.

I seriously can’t breathe.

“Whatever it is,” she says quietly and all I can focus on is the feel of her hand on mine. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

That is the sentence that ruins me.

I’ve carried everything alone my whole life. I’ve told Luca only the things he needs to know. I’ve had to be a leader, someone my men can look up to. My decisions are my own. Nobody has ever once offered to take any of it off me. Not a friend. Not a woman. Nobody.

She’s the first.

And she’s offering while she’s still avoiding me. While she doesn’t want to want me. Even knowing everything she does about me, something in her couldn’t help caring anyway.

And that…that ruins me.

I look at her. The strand of hair loose against her neck. Her mouth. The two years I have wanted this woman rising up in me all at once, so fast it’s dizzying. I don’t want the truth right now. I don’t want to talk. I want my hands on her.

She is already looking at me. Her eyes are shining, her lips are a little parted. I shift my hand so it completely covers hers, lacing our fingers together.

She does not move away.

Kiss her. My brain is screaming at me to not do this. I owe her this distance, it’s the least I can give her after everything. And it’s clearly what she wants, right? But here she is, nearly pressed against me, our fingers tangled together.

Don’t do it.

Nah. Fuck it.

I lean in and I kiss her.

It’s immediately different from what happened in the kitchen. It’s soft and careful, like I’m asking a question. She tastes like chamomile and she must have been drinking tea before I found her. My other hand comes up to cup the side of her face.

She makes a small sound against my mouth and I swallow it whole. Then she’s kissing me back, and her hand finds the collar of my shirt and fists in it, pulling me in instead of pushing me away, and every ounce of restraint I walked in here with is gone.

Her lips are soft but unyielding, matching me stroke for stroke, her hands fisting in my hair as though she’s as desperate to taste me as I am to devour her.

Suddenly, I’m on top of her, pushing her into the floor of the library, the heat of the fire matching the blazing heat between us. Her gasp sends a shiver down my spine, but I’m too far gone to slow down. My hands slide down to her hips, gripping them tightly as though she might vanish if I let go. The fabric of her leggings moves against my skin as I explore every inch of her.

Something primitive in me roars at claiming what I’ve been watching for so long, for getting a taste of. Her body fits against mine perfectly, all soft curves and sharp edges.

When I bite her lower lip, dragging my teeth slowly across the plump flesh, she moans, a low, throaty sound that echoes in the empty space around us and nearly undoes me. Her nails dig into my scalp, sending sparks of pleasure-pain through me as she pulls me impossibly closer, her body molding against mine like we were made for this moment.

Her legs shift, brushing against mine, and I take the hint, wrapping her thighs around my waist. She gasps against my mouth, her chest heaving as I press into her, pinning her firmly in place with the weight of my body.

My lips trail fire along her jawline, down the column of her throat. Her pulse thrums beneath my tongue, wild and frantic, matching the pounding of my heart. I drag my teeth against her skin, not hard enough to mark but enough to leave her trembling. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, pulling me closer, as though she can’t bear even an inch of distance between us.