raised by a single mother who worked two jobs.
“I got my ass kicked a lot. My mom was at work at night and my brothers were into wrestling big time.”
I laugh at the notion that Nico could get his ass kicked. “You? I hate to see what your brothers look like.”
Nico laughs, “I was always big for my age. When I was eight or nine my mother would warn my brothers that some day I was going to be bigger and stronger and get even with them for the years of ganging up on me. I don’t think they expected that day to come when I was only twelve.”
“How old were your brothers when you were twelve?”
“We’re all two years apart so they were fourteen, sixteen and eighteen.”
“You were bigger than the eighteen-year-old at twelve?”
“I don’t know if I was bigger than him back then. But I could fight better. I remember the day that it happened too. Joe, the eighteen-year-old, came home and I was drinking out of his cup.”
“His cup? He had his own cup?”
Nico laughs. “It sounds worse than it is. But yeah, he had a cup and none of us were allowed to drink out of it. I used to take it out when he wasn’t home and pour a big glass of milk and dunk my cookies into it.”
“On purpose?”
“Yeah, on purpose. I liked to use it when he wasn’t home, it gave me a secret satisfaction.” Nico smiles and shakes his head, realizing how silly it sounds to have taken satisfaction from using someone else’s cup. “But one day he came home early and caught me. We went at it like we usually did. We broke the coffee table and the end table wrestling around. Mom used to get pissed when we broke the furniture. But after we rolled around for a while, I pinned his ass to the floor.”
I smile watching Nico tell his story with such fondness in his voice. I’d never heard anyone speak of fighting with such reverence. To me, fighting has always meant hatred and violence and ugly things. But oddly enough, when Nico speaks of his brothers he makes it sounds like it comes from love and beauty.
Nico stands, “How about a glass of wine?”
“Sure, I’d love that.”
Nico brings me a glass of wine, but nothing for himself. “Aren’t you having one?”
“I don’t drink when I’m training.” He sits next to me on the couch, much closer than he had been before. My leg touches his inadvertently when I lean forward to set my drink down and when I look back at Nico he’s looking at our legs where they meet. He notices me watching him and he brings his eyes back to mine. I’m mesmerized as he looks into my eyes and then slowly his eyes drop to my mouth for a long moment. I can tell he’s forcing his gaze back to mine against his will when his beautiful green eyes refocus on mine. His eyes are dilated now and my breath hitches when I see my own desire reflected back at me.
“Oh.” I swallow hard. What were we talking about? Drinking. Drinking while training. “Are you training for a fight?”
Something different passes over his face at my question, and I’m not sure what it is. “Not really.” Nico ponders for a second. “But if you ask Preach, he might say differently.” He chuckles. The mood has changed and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved.
I lean forward and take another sip of my wine. “Preach?”
“He’s my trainer.”
I wait for more, but nothing comes. “Why would Preach think you’re training for a fight if you aren’t?”
“Because he thinks he knows me better than I know myself.”
“Does he?” Nico is surprised by my question. I watch as he thinks before he responds. I like that he doesn’t just spit out an answer. He seems to consider his words carefully.
“Maybe. I’ve been with him since I was fifteen. He does know me pretty well.”
“He started training you when you were fifteen?”
“No, not at first. When I was fifteen my mom lost her second job, so my uncle got me a job at a gym so I could help out. Preach hired me to clean up and hold the heavy bag while the fighters trained. One afternoon, the regular sparring practice guy didn’t show and I talked Preach into letting me fill in. I was good at blocking shots from my three brothers, so it wasn’t hard for me to catch their shots with the pads. I did that for a little while and then one of their best fighters, who I thought was an arrogant asshole, took a cheap shot at me while we were sparring and it pissed me off, so I hit him back and we went at it. I wound up kicking his ass and the rest is history. Preach started training me after that.”
We spend the next few hours talking about my work and Nico’s family. When he finally drives me back home, the early morning people are already out jogging. The whole night flowed effortlessly, without any uncomfortable moments until we’re in front of my apartment building.
Nico parks his bike and helps me off, not releasing my hand when I’m off. He stands close and looks down at me and I think he’s going to kiss me. But instead he leans down until I feel his breath on my neck. My whole body responds and I lean in against him ever so slightly, but it’s enough for my body to be grazing up against his tight chest.
His mouth is so close to my ear, it sends shivers down my spine. I want him to kiss me so badly, but don’t want to want him to kiss me. His words are a whisper in my ear as he speaks. “I’d love to see you again. You let me know when the not really turns into a solid no.”
My body is in heat from being so close to him. I’m disappointed he doesn’t kiss me, but relieved at the same time. He’s right for reminding me about William. Nico releases the hand that he is still holding and I smile up at him before I turn to walk away. I take a few steps away from him and turn back. “Why did you pick me up on a motorcycle if you have an SUV in the garage?”
Nico looks down sheepishly and then I see the cocky lopsided smile that just melts me somehow. “I wanted to feel your arms wrapped around me tightly.”
Right. Damn. Answer. He’d kept his word all night and been a perfect gentleman. I smile at him and begin to turn to walk away, but my feet take me back in the other direction. They seem to have a mind of their own. I need to feel him once more. I rush the four steps it takes me to get back in his space. Nico doesn’t move, he stays still and watches me intently. Waiting. I reach up and press my lips firmly to his and the electricity that had been threatening my body all night zaps to full wattage. Sparks. Fusion. Jolt. It overpowers me. We instantly melt into each other. Nico wraps his arms around my waist, our bodies pressing firmly against each other, neither of us able to get close enough. His arms are locked so tight, there’s no way I could escape if I wanted to. But I definitely don’t want to.
When we finally break the kiss, we’re both panting. Nico leans his forehead into mine and I catch my breath enough to speak. “I wanted to feel your arms wrapped around me tightly, too.”
Nico smiles at my words and I turn to walk away. I really don’t want to walk away, but I know if I don’t, I won’t be able to very soon. I walk up the stairs feeling his eyes on my ass with every step and my hips put on a show as they sway with renewed enthusiasm. I open the door and look back to find him watching me and not ashamed to let me know it. I shut the door and lean against it. What the hell am I doing?
Chapter 7
I’m up at five a.m. every morning. Well, every morning except today. I slept like shit, my body a mass of pent-up frustration. I kept my word all night. Even though all I wanted to do was pick her up, carry her into my bedroom, and ram myself into her to claim her as mine. Then she kissed me. I know I could have taken it further after that kiss. But I don’t want one night with Elle. I want more. I have no idea why, but I do. A lot fucking more.
By the time I drove back home last night, I’d gotten myself under control. I’d reasoned with my hard-on until it finally saw my way. Who knew you could reason with a fucking hard-on. I guess I never tried. I just took care of it, did what it wanted me to.
But then I walked into my loft and I smelled her. And all reasoning went out the window. I couldn’t sleep
