A shiver runs along my spine and I don’t hesitate.
I pump in and out, faster and faster and her knees draw back, her head diving into the pillow.
I lean down, kissing across her collarbone and she starts to shake. I pull one of her legs in, holding it against my ribs and tilt my hips, giving her a deeper, fuller angle and her back flies off the bed, a loud, airy and unrestrained moan filling her room.
“God, damn, baby.”
With long, slow blinks, her eyes hit mine before they close completely, her hips pushing into mine before her entire body twitches and she grips me, attempting to keep me still so she can ride it out, but I grind harder, push deeper and then my toes curl and I come with her, both of us shaking and sweating and holding on tight.
After a few minutes, her feet slide across the mattress, her body growing limp.
I climb off and go to stand but she shakes her head, so I drop down again.
Her hand comes up to brush my hair from my face and she smiles, the first sign of any shyness I’ve seen tonight.
“Don’t go getting nervous on me now,” I rasp, reaching out to run my knuckle over the edge of her breast, sliding it back and forth across her nipple, grinning as it plumps up.
“I’m not nervous.”
Our eyes meet. “No?”
She shakes her head, scooting closer, and leaning over so I have to fall on my back to stare up at her.
Her wet hair falls onto my chest, so I wrap it in my hand, laying it behind her.
“What are you then, Pixie?”
The crimson on her cheeks spreads a little more. “Okay maybe a little nervous,” she admits, and both of us chuckle.
Her hands trail along my abs and she tilts her head. “Why do you call me Pixie?”
“Because that’s what you’ve always been to me, and you were right, it’s got nothing to do with your height, baby, but what I see. How I felt when I’d look at you, which was often.”
I bring my hand up, my stare following as I glide the pads of my fingers across her collarbone.
“My little Pixie,” I whisper, my lip twitching when she shudders. “An elusive, unattainable creature. Can hardly see it. Can’t possibly catch it.” My eyes snap to hers. “Could never keep it.”
Her forehead wrinkles, her eyes flying between mine as my hand falls to my side.
She twists, now lying on her side, facing me, and pulls her blanket over us both. Demi slips her hand in mine, folding it between us. “That’s how you felt about me before, but what about now... after everything, and now that you know what you didn’t before?”
“Now I’m keeping you even if you try to leave.”
She laughs lightly, her eyes roaming mine before shame fills them. “I’m so sorry, I should have told you. I should have thought to.”
It stings, but the reality is I’d never walk away from her, and she doesn’t deserve to have guilt over something she did years ago, having no idea it would tear me apart then. I run my knuckle across her jaw. “I think you would have, if we started differently.”
She’s hesitant as she asks, “What you said to Trent, about wanting me before he had me. Why did you say that?”
“Because it’s true. I’ve wanted you for years, Demi. Years.”
“I never knew.”
“I know, but you do now.”
She smiles, looking away. “My mom brought me a pill today.” It takes a moment, but she glances back. “I was stressed, exhausted and couldn’t focus after everything. She knew I was off.”
Unease stirs in my gut as I wait for her to say more.
“For the first time, I gave it back,” she whispers. “I told her if she tried to give them to me again, I’d move in with my dad.”
Warmth and affliction spread through my gut for so many reasons, one because Demi was strong enough to stand up to her mom, and the other because my mom can’t seem to stand up for herself.
She leans over, pressing her lips to mine in a slow, promising kiss. “Stay, Nico.”
“That doesn’t sound like a question.”
“That’s because it’s not.” She tucks into me, a smile ghosting her lips. “Now, close your eyes before I change my mind,” she teases with a yawn, sinking farther into her mattress.
I don’t say a word.
I close my fuckin’ eyes.
Warm breath fans across the back of my neck and my eyes slowly open. My alarm clock reads five in the morning, we have school in a little over an hour.
I twist in my sheets, looking to Nico who is sound asleep, lying flat on his back, one hand under his pillow, the other resting low on his stomach.
I gently turn all the way, lifting the covers slightly to get a better look at him.
His tan skin glows against my ivory sheets, and even when at ease as he is right now, his muscles are sculpted and curved to my kind of perfection.
I look to his face and I fight the urge to lean over and meet his lips.
His commanding, control seeking, perfect lips.
I replay moments from last night in my head and my core warms.
He was so in tune with what I liked, knew exactly how to set my body off and I tried to give him just as much back.
When I had sex before, I felt clueless and unsure, self-conscious.
Last night, all I felt was Nico.
His want and his need, his desire to please and the greed in his movements. Every time his hands touched me it was purposeful. Every kiss was more heated than the last and every moan he earned of mine only seemed to make him work harder for the next one.
Last night was completely intoxicating.
Nico is intoxicating.
I quietly climb from the bed, snag my robe from the hook near my door, and move to use the restroom in the hall so I don’t wake him.
The last thing I expected yesterday was everything I had hoped for – Nico to show up and erase the memory that threatened to ruin us.
He did, and then some.
I know nothing is forgotten, but to have him here, knowing we can move past this is more than enough.
After washing my hands, I splash some water on my face, gently patting it dry with a hand towel and sliding it across my neck.
My robe falls open slightly and I spot a small hickey just over my breast.
I lean closer to the mirror, tracing it with my fingers and then look into my own eyes.
No guilt. No shame.
I step back, push the door open, and my eyes fall to my discarded jeans, then slide down the hall where Nico’s boxers lie.
A small smile tugs at my lips and I follow the trail, laughing at his football pants on the stairs, and my shirt by the entrance rug, his cleats a few feet from there.
I pull the corner of my bottom lip between my teeth and reach into the fridge for a bottle of water.
I unscrew the lid, taking a drink as I close the door.
I scream and jump back, gasping in the next second as the cold-water spills onto my chest.
My hand flies to my robe and I pull it closed tighter.
“Mom.” My wide eyes snap from her to me and back. “What the hell!”
My mother narrows her eyes, tilting her head slightly. “What the hell?” she repeats.
“I only mean thanks for creeping up on me, you scared me.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so lost in thought, you’d have noticed I was standing in the living room as you passed by.” She blinks.