A planned engagement

chapter 15

Alexi watched Nico as he slipped back into the kitchen, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the overhead light. He returned moments later, cradling a bottle of gin like a precious secret, setting it gently on the table between them.

"Your family is lovely," he murmured, his voice a warm caress in the quiet room, as he poured himself a drink and took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Mom was really excited about the news," she replied, her gaze tracing the curve of his lips as they met the glass.

"I'm glad she is," he said, taking another sip, his stare intensifying, drawing her in like a tide.

She rose gracefully, her fingers brushing his as she took the glass from his hand. Pouring herself a generous measure, she drank deeply, the liquid fire blooming in her throat. She settled close to him, her body humming with a mix of irritation and desire—the day's tensions melting into something hotter, more urgent.

"Well, this is potent," she said, clearing her throat, a flush creeping up her neck.

He smiled, that slow, knowing curve of his mouth that always made her pulse quicken. "So, you drink now?"

"Of course," she whispered, her voice laced with defiance and invitation. "I feel like indulging tonight."

"Go on, then," he encouraged, his eyes darkening as he watched her empty the glass in one bold swallow.

In an instant, he pulled her onto his lap, her thighs pressing against his, her hands resting on his broad shoulders. Her nightgown slipped upward, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of her legs, glowing like moonlight in the dim room. His hands roamed her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies aligning in a perfect, electric fit. She felt the hard strength of his thighs beneath her, the heat radiating through his clothes.

“ You are going to get drunk easily with gin," he teased, his breath warm against her ear, fingers tracing lazy circles on her skin.

"I don't care, as long as it's with you," she breathed, shifting against him, feeling the spark ignite between them.

He gripped her firmly, lifting her and settling her back against the chair. She reclined there, her chest rising and falling as she watched him pour another drink, down it swiftly, then close the distance. His lips claimed hers in a deep, consuming kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, sharing the sharp tang of gin. She gasped when he pulled back, her lungs burning for air, but he only smiled—that wicked, adoring smile—and trailed his mouth downward, kissing the sensitive skin of her thighs, inch by inch, his breath hot and teasing.

He reached for her most intimate core, but she caught his head gently. "Nico... Anna might be..."

He shifted over her, his body a protective, possessive weight. "She knows when to go to sleep," he murmured, before capturing her lips again in a kiss that was all hunger and fire. He'd been restraining himself all day, but now the dam broke—he craved her with a raw, aching need, to explore every curve, to lose himself in her completely. Yet the memory of that morning's tenderness flickered in his mind; she might still ache. Reluctantly, he pulled away, sinking back into the chair.

"Nico," she said breathlessly, moving to him, her hands roaming his chest.

"I think we shouldn't," he whispered, though his voice cracked with restraint.

"Why?" she asked, pressing closer, her touch igniting him.

"I don't want to hurt you. You're still sore."

"No, no, no," she whispered urgently, her eyes pleading. "I'm not. I want you, Nico. Please."

He searched her face, seeing the raw desire mirrored there, and it undid him. "If you're scared, just go slow," she added, her voice a sultry plea.

He couldn't resist any longer. Pulling her back to the chair, he tugged his pants down just enough, guiding himself into her slowly, gently, their eyes locked in an intimate gaze that spoke volumes of love and longing. She cupped his face, a soft moan escaping her lips as pleasure built, wave after wave.

"f**k," Nico groaned, scooping her up and carrying her toward the stairs, too impatient for the bedroom. He laid her down on the steps, entering her again, trying to hold back, to be tender. But she was so exquisitely responsive, her body arching to meet him, that his control slipped. He moved faster, deeper, whispering against her skin, "Alexi... you're killing me. I can't stop. I want more... more of you."

Tears of overwhelming ecstasy glistened in her eyes as she cried out his name. Nico froze, concerned about flooding his features. "You're crying. Am I hurting you?"

"No, no, don't stop—please," she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist, drawing him impossibly closer. "I love it. I love you."

She kissed him with desperate passion, and he thrust into her again, the rhythm building to a frenzy. She screamed his name as release crashed over her, her body trembling in bliss. He followed moments later, spilling into her with a shuddering groan. They collapsed together, breaths ragged and intertwined, his weight a comforting anchor.

"I love you, Lexi," he whispered over and over, his lips brushing her ear, her neck, sealing the words with tender kisses in the afterglow.

Nico remained draped over her on the wide staircase, his forehead pressed to hers, both of them still trembling in the fading ripples of release. The air around them was thick with the scent of gin, warm skin, and the faint trace of her perfume lingering beneath it all. His heart thundered against her chest, matching the wild rhythm of hers, slowly, gradually, easing into something softer, deeper.

“I love you, Lexi,” he whispered again, the words brushing her lips like a vow. He kissed her gently this time—no hunger, only reverence—tasting the salt of her tears, the sweetness of her surrender. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”

She smiled through the haze, her fingers threading lazily through his dark hair, pulling him closer so she could feel the steady weight of him grounding her. “You don’t ever have to be scared with me,” she murmured, voice husky and raw from crying out his name. “I’m yours, Nico. Completely.”

He lifted his head just enough to look at her—really look. The dim light from the hallway above spilled over her face, catching the flush on her cheeks, the glassy sheen in her eyes, the swollen curve of her lips. She had never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, undone and radiant, her nightgown twisted around her waist, legs still loosely wrapped around him.

Carefully, tenderly, he slipped out of her and gathered her into his arms, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. She nestled against his chest with a contented sigh, arms looping around his neck, lips grazing the pulse at his throat. He carried her the rest of the way up the stairs, pausing only to kiss her again—slow, lingering, savoring—before stepping into his bedroom and lowering her onto the cool sheets.

The room was bathed in moonlight filtering through half-open curtains, silver light painting soft patterns across her skin. Nico stretched out beside her, pulling her close until there was no space left between them. One hand traced idle, worshipful circles along her spine; the other cradled her face as he studied her with quiet wonder.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, concerned, flickering in his eyes.

“So are you,” she answered with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s just… I feel you everywhere. Inside me, on my skin, in my heart. I don’t want it to end.”

“It won’t,” he promised, voice low and fierce. He shifted to trail feather-light kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, over the rise of her breast—each one a silent thank you, an I love you, a never letting go. When he reached the faint marks his earlier passion had left on her skin, he soothed them with the gentlest touch of his lips, as though apologizing and cherishing all at once.

Alexi arched into him, not with urgency now, but with a languid, dreamy need to stay connected. She guided his hand between her thighs, not for more pleasure, but simply to feel his warmth there, to keep him close. He understood instantly, cupping her gently, his thumb stroking slow, soothing patterns until her breathing evened out.

They lay tangled like that for what felt like hours—whispering soft confessions, trading lazy kisses, fingers intertwined. Every so often he would murmur her name like a prayer, and she would answer by pressing closer, as if they could melt into one another completely.

Eventually, Nico reached for the discarded blanket at the foot of the bed and drew it over them both, cocooning them in warmth. He tucked her head beneath his chin, her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said quietly, though it wasn’t really a question.

She tilted her face up, eyes shining with unshed tears of pure happiness. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

He smiled then—a real, unguarded smile that reached his eyes—and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, finally settling on her lips in a kiss so tender it felt like a promise sealed in starlight.

In the quiet hush that followed, with only the soft rhythm of their breathing and the distant hum of the night outside, they drifted together—two souls perfectly, irrevocably entwined—wrapped in the sweetest afterglow, dreaming in each other’s arms.