Sweet As Sin

40

I bit my lip. Heat rose in my cheeks. Nico didn’t miss it, but he didn’t comment on it, instead stroking a thumb over the flame on my skin, waiting.

I swallowed, deciding to be brave. “Love.”

His eyes flashed. The muscle in his jaw flexed. He was quiet long enough for me to want to slink away into a corner and curl into a tiny little ball. But then he closed his eyes just longer than a blink, shaking his head.

“Baby, that’s the costliest thing of all.”

After an awkward moment, I said, “Excuse me, Debbie Downer, I was wondering if you could find Nico for me?” When he just looked at me, silent and smoldering, I prompted, “You know, the grand romantic gestures guy? The gold jewelry guy? The lavender roses guy? The unremorseful stalker? Any of this ringing a bell?”

He stared deep into my eyes. The depth of emotion I saw there took my breath away. “What’s more romantic, Kat? Fallin’ in love because you don’t know any better . . . or fallin’ in love, knowin’ it’s gonna ruin you, knowin’ it’s gonna rip out your fuckin’ heart and smash you into a million little pieces, but doin’ it anyway, because you’d rather pay the price and be ripped and smashed forever than never get a taste of it at all?”

My lips parted. A funny little noise escaped my mouth. The edges of everything grew fuzzy, because of the water welling in my eyes. “I’m not going to ruin you,” I promised in a vehement whisper.

His lips curved to a sad smile. “Yeah, you are. You already have. Just the way you’re lookin’ at me right now has ruined me for any other woman.” His quicksilver eyes grew intense. “And I’m gonna make damn sure I ruin you for any other man.”

I felt the kiss he gave me all the way to my toes. It was hungry—no, it was devouring. I clung to him, feeling what little reason I had left regarding this relationship slipping away.

Because even if he was right, even if we were destined to ruin one another, I didn’t want to stop. In my heart of hearts, I didn’t care what happened in all my tomorrows, as long as I could have this, right now. His kiss and his smile and the fever that burned so brightly between us.

The fever that might just leave a smoking path of destruction in its wake.

He broke away first, breathing hard. His erection pressed against my lower belly. Even through our clothing I felt it twitch.

I cleared my throat. Trying for a light tone, I said, “I think you should probably show me your bedroom now.”

His brows slowly raised. “You propositionin’ me?”

“You complaining?”

He grinned. “Who, me? The Cookie Monster? No, ma’am, I am most certainly not.” Leaning over to pick up my bag, he asked casually, “By the way . . . you pack any of that nice lingerie of yours, Chastity?” He took me by the hand and led me toward the curved staircase that rose to the second floor.

“Um, no.”

He looked over his shoulder, and winked. “Good. ’Cause you’re not gonna need it.”

Yes, I was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

And I was loving every minute of it.

My euphoric mood lasted exactly three minutes, until Nico led me into his bedroom.

It wasn’t the unmade bed; we already know what a slob I am. And it wasn’t that I was envious of the view, or the size of his closet, or that he had an entire home gym in an adjacent, glass-walled room.

It was the f*****g picture of Avery on the nightstand beside his bed.

There wasn’t a single photo or personal memento in the entire house, yet he slept with a silver-framed picture of his ex-whatever two feet from his head. The s**t-eating grin Avery sported in the photo seemed aimed directly at me.

Murderous jealousy reared up inside me, spitting fire. I had to look away for a moment and stare out the windows to stop myself from saying something really bitchy about how the Cookie Monster was about to die of starvation.

Nico set my duffel on the glossy black dresser across from the bed, then turned to me. His smile faded. “You okay?”

“Yep.”

I wasn’t looking at him, but I was pretty sure his eyes narrowed. I swallowed the bile in my throat and tried to maintain my dignity instead of exploding into the fit of screaming shrew threatening to come on.

Silent as a panther, he stalked toward me. “What’s up, Kat?”

Damn Eagle Eyes! Can’t you see I’m trying not to have a meltdown here?

I decided to lie rather than admit how angry I was at him, and how angry I was at myself for letting that picture get to me. He’d already explained she was important to him. He’d already asked for my trust. And I had—allegedly—given it. I knew Avery was a big part of his life, or at least she used to be, and I wanted, so badly, to be mature enough, secure enough, to be the kind of woman who would smile and say, “Oh, isn’t that sweet,” and actually mean it.

Clearly, I was not that woman.

But screw that if I was going to admit it to him.

“I’m feeling a little sick from last night, and all the excitement this morning. I think I might need to lie down. Or maybe take a shower and then lie down. Would that be okay?”

“Of course.” He was concerned. “Do you need anything?”

A hammer. A flamethrower. A gun. I really wanted to destroy that stupid picture. Maybe even taser the f*****g thing, and then destroy it.