Ruthless: Mob Boss Book One (16 page)

She lay her head on his chest, listening to the slowing of his heartbeat as waves crashed outside the bedroom.

“I still hate you,” she said softly.

He kissed the top of her head. “I know.”

25

She woke on her side, Nico’s arm flung over her waist. The rain was still lashing the windows, the light weak and gray. She lay there for awhile, listening to the waves crash under the window, feeling the soft exhalation of Nico’s breath behind her. Finally, she slid out from under his arm.

She picked her clothes off the floor and went into her bedroom where she dressed in her jeans and a sweater that had been in the stuff Luca brought to her after the altercation with Dante. Had it been less than a week earlier? She couldn’t believe it.

Creeping past Nico’s room and down the stairs, she made her way to the wall of windows where Nico had kissed her. She tipped her head against the glass, letting it cool her forehead while images from the night before filled her mind; Nico’s hands on her, his head between her legs, his body joining hers.

Stepping outside, she closed the doors quietly behind her. The storm didn’t seem to be receding, and the waves were still rolling fast and angry onto the private beach below the house. She crossed her arms over her chest and made her way down the stairs to the sand.

The wind blew her hair around, the sting of it numbing her face as she walked down to the water. She relished the cold. It drove everything else out of her mind, made it hard to think about what Nico had said about her father, what she had done with Nico afterwards. There was the vague feeling that she should feel guilty, that she might even be crazy to sleep with the man who’d kept her prisoner for the last two weeks. But it was so distant. So easy to ignore.

The ocean stretched endless and wide in front of her, blending in with the steely sky above it. Most of the trees on the shoreline were evergreens, standing out in sharp relief against the white and gray. She imagined what it looked like in the winter, the rocky shore covered with snow, the waves rolling in just like they always did, season after season. There was a kind of comfort in the certainty of it.

She felt hands on her shoulders, and Nico pulled back her wild hair and touched his mouth to her neck. His lips were hot against her cold skin.

“You’re freezing,” he said softly.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t move. As long as she stared at the sea, as long as she didn’t take her eyes off it, she wouldn’t have to think about anything else.

He turned her to face him and wrapped his big arms around her, swallowing her in the warmth of his embrace. He looked down at her.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said. “Not yet.” His eyes had turned a shade darker in the gray light, and he looked out over the water before returning his gaze to her. “I just want to be with you, Angel.” He sighed. “Can we do that until this storm breaks?”

She reached up to touch his face, then nodded. There was nothing to say.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “Come on. Let’s get you warm.”

He led her inside, up the stairs and into his bathroom where he started the shower. Then he carefully peeled off her wet clothes while she stood shivering and silent. When she was naked, he stripped and led her into the shower, moving her so that she was fully under the warm spray of water.

He shampooed her hair, starting at the top just like she did, careful not to let it get too tangled. Tipping her head back into the water, he worked the shampoo from her hair, then started on her body, soaping her gently like a child. At first, she could feel nothing beyond the warmth of the water. But little by little, his hands brought her alive. They moved over her shoulders and down to her breasts, slippery with soap, Her nipples hardened of their own accord, and a fire built in her belly as he soaped her hips, washed between her legs.

By the time the water sluiced the soap off her body, she was humming for him again, begging for more of his touch. She thought he might take her then, but instead he turned off the water and stepped from the shower.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and returned with one for her. The towel was soft and thick, and he moved it gently across her arms and breasts, down her stomach and in the space between her thighs, behind her knees. When he was done with her body, he squeezed the excess water out of her hair.

She followed him into the bedroom and watched as he removed a shirt from the dresser. He slipped it over her arms and buttoned it while she stood perfectly still, her body coming alive like a tuning fork to lightning as his hands brushed against her belly.

He put on a fresh pair of black lounge pants. “Sit down,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

She sat on the edge of the bed while he went into the bathroom. He returned with a hairbrush and positioned himself behind her where he began at the bottom, tenderly brushing the tangles from her hair. The storm seemed to be ripping the world part on the other side of the windows, but they didn’t speak. She lost track of time, relaxing into the gentle motion of the brush in her hair, Nico’s occasional touch on the top of her head, against her shoulder. She didn’t know what was between them, but she didn’t want to analyze it anymore. Not right now.

Finally, he set the brush aside. She felt the soft sweep of his breath as he dropped a kiss on her neck. Then he stood and took her hand, pulling her up off the bed.

“Come on. I’ll make you breakfast.”

26

He tried not to stare at her across the table, but it wasn’t easy. He’d thought possessing her physically would kill the emotional connection he had felt to her almost since the beginning. That’s how it usually worked. Instead their night together had only solidified it.

He’d sensed their loneliness merge along with their bodies, felt the same disconnection in her that existed in himself. Once she’d let go, she hadn’t been at all hesitant. It had been the opening of a floodgate, and she had been as hungry for him as he’d been for her. He had never wanted to possess someone so completely. Had never felt so totally the futility of the desire.

He sensed in her a deep goodness, a stubborn innocence in spite of everything that had happened. She was the only thing he’d never wanted to remake. The only thing he’d ever found perfect, just as it was. He knew instinctively that she wasn’t someone he would possess easily, but it only made him want her more.

“What?”

He blinked, realizing she’d caught him staring. “You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.”

She shook her head little. “This isn’t that kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“This…” She looked at her empty plate. He’d made eggs and bacon and toast. “This thing between us. It’s not an emotional kind of thing. You don’t have to say nice things to me.”

“Are you speaking for yourself or for me?”

She shrugged. “Both.”

“Well, don’t,” he said. “I don’t know what this is yet, but I can assure you that it’s not nothing.”

“I don’t see how it can be anything more than that,” she said.

Her words fell like a stone between them, and the potential loss of her moved through him like a brushfire. He stood and walked toward her, then gently pulled her to her feet.

He tucked a piece of golden hair behind her ear. “I don’t have it figured out,” he said. “But I’m not going to make light of it while I have you.”

She seemed to hesitate, then nodded.

“Come on,” he said. “The rain seems to be letting up a little. Let’s go for a walk.”

They changed into warm clothes, and Nico dug out an extra pair of galoshes for Angel. It was strangely intimate, getting ready in the same room, dressing, watching her brush her teeth. He wanted to memorize her movements, the way she looked at herself in the mirror while she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, the line of her back when she bent to pull on the boots.

He gave her his biggest coat and pulled up the hood, looking into her eyes as he tied it around her face. Then he bent his head unable to resist tasting her lips. He swept them gently with his tongue, then pulled back, studying her face. She smiled a little, and he felt the corners of his mouth lift in response.

He took her hand and led her outside. The wind was still coming in strong off the water, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the night before, and the rain was noticeably less violent.

He led her away from the house, back the way they’d come from the boat the day before. The island had been his secret, and he suddenly wanted her to see it all.

They picked their way along the rocky shoreline, traveling away from the place where Ed had dropped them off. He hadn’t walked the perimeter of the island since he’d first bought it. He’d been alone then, pondering the merits of the place as it related to his need for privacy.

This was different, and he stopped to point out the meadow that stood beyond the beach on the west end of the island, the way the waves crashed against the breakers that jutted out into the ocean. There was a lighthouse barely visible on an adjacent island, and they stood atop one of the highest peaks, watching the light make a slow circle toward them again and again.

They were making their way back when thunder rocked the ground. A few seconds later, lightning tore through the sky, and Nico pulled Angel under a rocky outcropping.

“We should wait a few minutes,” he said.

She nodded.

Water dripped from her hood, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. A piece of hair had escaped from her ponytail. It hung in a loose curl, and he reached out, wrapping it around his finger. He was torn between wanting to feel her naked body against his—now—and wanting to protect her from anything and everything that might hurt her.

“What are you doing to me, Angel?” he murmured.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

He took her hand, pressing it against his chest, hoping she could feel his rapidly beating heart. “This isn’t nothing.” He moved her hand lower, pressing it against the erection already straining against his jeans. “And whatever you might think, this isn’t nothing either.”

Her lips parted at the contact, and he was surprised to feel her palm rub against the swollen flesh in his pants. She stepped closer, snaking her free arm around his neck, pulling his head to hers.

“I know.” She pressed her lips to his, slipping her tongue, hot and urgent inside his mouth.

He held her face in his hands, deepening their kiss, wanting all of her. Even here, even now. She met the thrusts of his tongue, pushing her body against his until he could feel the warmth of her even through the layers of their clothes. His cock responded, growing harder and more persistent. He could feel her now, could imagine sliding into her wetness, letting her heat milk him until he poured himself into her.

He pulled back. “Not here.” He was barely able to get out the words, but he wasn’t going to take her outside in the cold. Not Angel. Not like that. “It’s too cold.”

She reached up, slipping a hand into his hood and twining it into the hair at the back of his head. “Then take me to bed.”

He was riveted on her eyes, on the need there that matched his own. Finally, he took her hand and hurriedly headed for the house.

They stripped in the entryway, her fingers hurried and demanding on his clothes while he tried to undress her without removing his mouth from hers. When they were naked, she pulled him down on the staircase, her hands roaming his body, closing around his shaft until he drove into her, his tongue plundering her mouth.

She lifted her hips to meet him, her pussy hot and tight, panting as she grasped for the orgasm he could feel building at the center of her body.

“Do it, baby,” he urged her. “Come for me.”

The words seemed to send her over the edge, and she cried out as she tumbled over the precipice. It set him off, releasing his last vestige of control. He let go, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her.

Later, they lay in the bath, candles flickering, the rain falling softly against the roof. Her head was tipped back against the tub, her eyes closed, and her long blond hair was swept away from her face in a loose bun. Some of the loose strands curled around her face.

He took her foot in his hand and rubbed, marveling at the softness of her skin, the delicate lift of her arch. “Tell me about your brother,” he said softly.

Her eyes snapped open, and she regarded him with the first hint of suspicion he’d seen since he’d taken her the night before.

“I just want to hear about something good in your life.” It stung to think that she was still afraid of him, but he couldn’t really blame her.

She seemed to relax. Her expression turned pensive as she started to speak.

“He’s the best person I know,” she said simply. “Just… good and decent. We were close, even before my mother died. Being sent to separate schools about killed me.”

Nico felt an irrational surge of jealousy. Not because Angel loved her brother. She deserved to love and be loved, and he was glad she had that in her life. But she would never talk about him like that. Never talk about how good and decent he was. He had made that impossible, and he suddenly found that he wanted nothing more than for Angel to think those things about him.

“Did you stay close?” he asked, lifting her other foot.

She nodded. “We talked on the phone, Skyped… But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive my father for separating us when we needed each other the most.”

“I can understand that.” It wasn’t easy to keep his voice calm. Carlo had sacrificed the happiness of his children for his own gain—either because he was too selfish to think about what was best for them or because he was so desperate to keep his secrets.

“What about you?” she asked. “Any siblings?”

“No, it’s just me.” He spoke carefully, not wanting to disrupt the seemingly normal conversation with any of the anger and bitterness he’d been carrying around since his parent’s death.

“Must be lonely,” she said softly.

He looked into her eyes across the tub. “I’ve never thought so until now.”