Nico
Her mouth tasted like sin.
Sweet and dangerous, sugar-laced poison that lingered on my tongue long after her lips parted from mine. Soft — too soft for a woman who radiated this much heat. Her fingers dragged down my chest, nails scraping lightly before threading into the hair at my nape, anchoring me to her like she already knew she could.
I could get drunk on her.
The way her body fit between Dominic and me felt intentional, inevitable — like we'd been circling this moment far longer than tonight. She was framed perfectly between us, warmth and pulse and breath, the missing piece we hadn't known we were searching for.
Dominic's mouth traced a slow, unhurried path up her neck, teeth grazing skin, lingering at her ear. His hands worked the straps of her dress down her shoulder
