Did he take a blowjob and run?

Was that what Nico’s silence—and avoidance—over the past week had been about? Endeavoring to treat me like all of his past conquests? Since he wasn’t a complete fool, he had to realize eventually that wasn’t going to work forever.

Obviously, whatever I’d felt between us down in that booze bunker had been entirely one-sided.

It hadn’t just been about sex to me, which yes, I knew sounded naïve and cliché. There was some type of connection between us. Something unsaid had been developing on a covert basis over the last two weeks. Down in that booze bunker, I thought I’d felt it strengthening, intensifying.

Now, I knew that had all been nothing more than silly, girlish notions.

For Nico, the whole experience had merely been about getting his nut. Except for the fact that we were temporarily bound together—more like shackled—I was no different than all the ones who had come before me.

I was lying on my towel that I’d spread out on the back patio, my feet dangling in the pool, when I heard the faint sound of a door slamming shut over the music coming through my earbuds.

I’d been going for daily swims in the pool since I’d arrived. Something about the water had always comforted me, made me feel oddly safe. Although, it had lately served as a stress reliever more than anything else, and today’s swim had been a doozy. My arms and legs had sliced through the water so many times that my muscles had been burning by the time I’d called it quits.

The next door to slam shut was the patio door, drawing a deep sigh from me. Since he’d been avoiding me all day, this surely wasn’t going to be good. Ripping out my earbuds, I tore my eyes away from the twilight sky to face him.

And stilled.

I expected to see him standing there. What I didn’t expect was the ferocious, menacing expression.

Aimed right at me.

I leaned up on my elbows and watched him stomp across the patio, never once taking his eyes off me. His appearance was haggard, to say the least. His hair was tangled, half of it hanging loose of his rubber band. His white button-down was untucked and wrinkled, his slacks dirty and stained. His face was wan with exhaustion, his eyes tired.

And was that…blood on his shoulder?

I waited for him to explain what the hell was happening, but he never unclenched his jaw enough to speak. Before I could even get a word out, he stepped into the pool, fully clothed.

Without the slightest pause in his movements, he descended the steps until the water reached his waist, eyes remaining locked on me. He was breaking through the surface so forcefully that water crashed against his body, creating small waves in the pool. I’d never seen the golden fires in his eyes blaze so hot.

He was like a shark stalking its prey.

The closer he came, the better look I got at his shoulder. Definitely blood. My wariness rocketed up to alarm in an instant.

“What happened to you?” I demanded. “Are you all right?”

He said nothing.

Just continued to wade through the water at an unrelenting speed. That’s when I noticed those fires in his eyes weren’t being fueled by mere anger or even lust—they were burning with rage.

And resolve.

And maybe…possession?

His footsteps never faltered until he stopped directly in front of me and positioned himself between my legs. Still, he remained silent. Then again, his body was doing all the talking for him.

I just needed to figure out a way to translate it.

“Nico?” My voice was shaky. I’d never seen him this undone before, and it was freaking me out. “What’s going on? Talk to m—”

My words ended on a gasp when his hands grasped my thighs and shoved them wide. And in the black and white bikini I was wearing, there wasn’t much to cover me down there. Nico’s eyes glazed over as he stared at my barely-covered sex. I swallowed back my rising nerves as that penetrating gaze pinned me in place. I was frozen under his piercing perusal.

“Krasotka,” he whispered.

My lungs seized. The Russian word meant “beautiful” or “beautiful girl.” “I didn’t think you spoke my language.”

He lightly petted my swimsuit bottoms, right over my entrance. “I don’t. But I figured I should at least know how to tell you that you’re beautiful in your native tongue. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

Where the hell had this guy been hiding? And where was all this coming from?

He didn’t bother waiting for a response. He placed his hand in the center of my chest and shoved me backward until I was lying flat on my back again.

My bottoms were yanked to the side.

My thighs lifted up.

My slick folds licked.

“Oh, God.”

Nico’s guttural groan vibrated against my flesh as the flat of his tongue dragged along my slit. It danced along my lips, driving me crazy when he hit pressure points along the way but gave nothing more than teasing swipes. Oh, the man knew what he was doing, all right. He hadn’t learned how to use his tongue in such toe-curling fashion without copious amounts of practice.

He reached my clit, laving it at first with gentle strokes, as if revering it. Then he mercilessly wrapped his lips around it and sucked it into his expert mouth, sending my hips arching up into the air. He tightened his grip on my thighs, keeping me stationary, without letting up on his ministrations. He rolled his tongue over the bundle of nerves several times, driving me absolutely out of my mind.

“Nico…” I was breathless, senseless. “That’s so good.”

Tension coiled in my belly as the pressure built. My hands slapped onto the concrete, my fingers curling inward, but there were no sheets to clutch. I needed something. As if sensing my frustration, Nico reached up with one hand, snagged both of my wrists, and placed my hands on top of his head.

My eyes found his.

Those infernos raged on as scorching and decimating as ever.

Sliding my fingers through his hair, I held onto the roots as he worked his tongue inside. Not with a swift thrust as I would have expected. No, he was far too perceptive and experienced for any clumsy techniques. He gave attention to every inch he covered, massaging my inner walls with that rolling tongue motion again.

He’s going to kill me with the rolling.

The moment he got as deep as he could, he added a finger and began to drive it in opposition with his tongue.

One in, one out.

In, out.

I didn’t even know how he was managing such a feat. It was like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time. And when he added his thumb to my clit, I was gone. My thighs started shaking on either side of his head. His tongue and digits moved more determinedly. The force of my approaching climax almost scared me, I’d never felt one so powerful before.

I even tried to push him away at one point because there was so much sensation.

Of course, he wasn’t having that.

It felt like my mind was splintering into pieces. I didn’t know how to control the eruption that was coming, didn’t know if I even wanted to.

“Blyad’! Nico!”

My back bowed off the ground as I crashed into my orgasm at deadly speeds. His groans matched my screams as both carried on the chilly night breeze. Everything below my waist seized in rapture for about three seconds before the dam burst wide open and the world turned inside out.

The earth didn’t just tilt on its axis.

It tipped the fuck over and fell off its axis.

Despite feeling boneless, I somehow managed to prop myself back up on my elbows. Nico rested his forehead against my inner thigh, reminding me of how I’d done the same thing the night in the booze bunker.

Our roles had reversed.

Was this just him returning the favor? Or was there more going on that he wasn’t telling me? He’d looked…nearly demented…when he’d stepped into the pool. I dared say if anyone had come between the two of us in that moment, he would have snapped their neck without blinking.

His body slid off mine and dipped below the edge of the pool. I sat up straight to watch him sink beneath the clear blue water, totally submerged. His hair floated above his head, his arms motionless in front of him.

My mind instantly conjured up an image of him as a merman—shirtless, hair down to his shoulders, deceptively charming smile capturing the attention of lovesick sea-faring maidens everywhere.

Aquaman could kiss my arse.

When he surfaced, he shoved his hair off his face, slicking it back. His sodden white shirt was molded to the ridges of his shoulders and chest, highlighting the broadness of his form. So much masculinity. Water droplets fell from his eyelashes and short beard, sluicing down his pectorals—

The water around him was tinged with red.

“You’re hurt!” My eyes widened with horror at the giant bandage I finally noticed poking through a huge hole in his shirt. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I tried gently reaching for the injury, but he wrapped his brawny arms around me instead and dragged me into the water.

“Are you mad?” I screeched, wriggling in his hold. “Nico, put me down. You’re bleeding, for God’s sake. You’re going to hurt yourself worse.”

“Let me hold you, Lexi.”

I stopped struggling, not sure I’d heard him correctly.

He sighed. “Just…let me have you in my arms for a minute.”

When he sounded that bloody lost, I was willing to give him as many minutes as he needed.

And frankly, I needed to be held as much as he needed to hold.

He guided my legs to wrap around his waist. Mindful of his shoulder, I carefully slipped my arms around his neck. I desperately wanted to inspect his injury, but I sensed he wasn’t going to let me until he was ready to allow it.

Before, I felt boneless.

Now, I felt weightless.

Though I suspected it wasn’t just because of the water. In Nico’s arms, held up by his support and strength, I felt less burdened. Something told me he could bear any weight I placed on his shoulders. He could carry all of it.

“Will you please tell me?” I whispered. “I need to know.”

He lowered us further into the water and drifted backward. “Raphael Esposito is MIA.”

I reared back on reflex, but his hands were there to stop me, keeping me close. “He escaped?”

“Or was kidnapped. That’s what it looked like. Five men ambushed the van that was transporting him to the courthouse. They shot all the guards and took Esposito with them, claiming he had debts to pay before they killed him.”

“Do you have any idea who the men were?”

He grunted. “We have some theories, but nothing concrete. His son, Stefano, owed the Niners money before he was killed. Could have been them trying to pump Raphael for the money before killing him out of revenge. But the Niners have been pretty quiet ever since the shooting at the summit meeting. I’m having a hard time believing they would go to this extreme.”

We floated beside the waterfall in the grotto, the peaceful sound an ironic contrast to the ominous conversation.

“Could it have been a set-up?” I asked. “Would Raphael somehow have been able to stage something like that to escape custody and avoid going on trial?”

A few beats of silence passed. “It’s possible. He’s still been able to run the syndicate with his brother Benito from behind bars. But if that’s the case, then who’s he working with? Benito and pretty much the entire Esposito family were either in the courtroom or right outside the courthouse. Who else would have helped him escape?”

“Hired guns?”

He shook his head. “Not unless it was a team. These guys were familiar with each other. And they were professionals. They knew what the hell they were doing. Almost military-like. Which is another reason why I don’t think it was the Niners.”

“Wait, how do you know they were familiar with each other?” I leaned back to look at him. “You say that like you saw them with your own eyes.”

He averted his gaze. “I did.”

I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me. “Stop evading me. How did you get your injury, Nico?”

His eyes went cold again, that lovely amber darkening. “I got hit with one of their bullets.”

I abruptly yanked my arms back, my eyes bugging out of my skull. “You were shot? Put me down! Pizdets, we need to take care of that!”

His mouth quirked up in a crooked, mysterious grin. “It went in and out. Didn’t hit any major veins or arteries. I already went to the hospital to get it stitched up.”

“You did?”

I couldn’t hide the hurt that laced the question.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Yeah.”

I stared down at the water, feeling irrationally wounded. “You could have called me. My God, you were shot and I didn’t even know it.”

He tipped my chin up, his eyes searching mine. “You worried about me, legs?”

I swallowed. “Only because I wouldn’t have a sparring opponent if anything happened to you.”

He slowly nodded. “Right.”

“Besides, I just became a wife. I’d like to get used to that before I make myself a widow.”

It was a half-grin this time. “How long have I got before you make that happen?”

I shrugged. “I prefer it to be at a time and place of my choosing.”

“Any particular weapon you’re favoring for my death?”

I squinted up at the sky. “I’ve always thought a stiletto heel to the jugular had a nice, dramatic ring to it. Like something from a twisted soap opera. The type of murder a true femme-fatale would commit.”

He laughed.

I made Nico Rossetti actually laugh.

I might as well have taken a stiletto heel to the heart because the man just slayed me.

He rolled his neck back on his shoulders and winced. Without invitation, my fingers instinctively went to his nape and massaged over that one spot he always seemed to be rubbing.

He stilled as my fingers worked.

Then he let out the longest groan of relief I’d ever heard. “Holy shiiiiiit.”

I chuckled. “Better?”

“You have no idea. Don’t stop.”

The fact that he thought I could was laughable. I didn’t know where it came from, but I was suddenly feeling protective of this man. I wanted to ease his stress, relieve his tension. I wanted to…take care of him.

Part of me was horrified at the realization. But that was quickly forgotten when his expression turned grateful. Had no one ever paid enough attention to him to know when he needed a neck massage? Judging from his reaction, I’d say no.

It took me several minutes to loosen the knot, but he was eventually able to rotate his neck around without trouble.

Then he rewarded me with the most spectacular smile. The first one he’d ever given me with teeth. “Amazing. Your fingers just did what mine are never able to. You sure you’re not a witch?”

I grinned. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes, but his gaze actually looked adoring. Never thought I’d ever see that emotion from him. Was he drunk?

My eyes fell back on his shoulder, my mood instantly sobering. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I really didn’t want to think about the possibility of anything happening to him. I was doing my level best to mask how much the idea bothered me. I couldn’t even fathom him not being here tomorrow. Of him in pain.

His face softened. “Yeah. I’m okay, legs.”

“If you got stitches, why has it been bleeding?”

His grin was sheepish. “I may have…punched something and opened a couple of them.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You punched something. What was it?”

“Might have been a wall.”

I fought back a smile. “And you punched a wall because…?”

His face hardened. “Esposito escaped on my watch. It’s my fault he’s out there right now, even if he is in the hands of murderous thugs.”

Incensed at his self-deprecation, I tried to break his hold so I could give him a firm talking to.

He only tightened it.

“It is not your fau—”

His hands froze on my back.

It wasn’t until that moment I realized where exactly on my back he was touching me. What exactly his fingertips were brushing over. They had snaked beneath my strapless bandeau top and were touching them.

His eyes flared wide, shock and outrage warring for prominence in his features. “Lexi? Is that…?”

It was going to happen sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.

With tender prodding, he turned me around before I could come up with a response. Gingerly lifting my top, he exposed the entire middle of my back.

Every inch of which was covered in burn scars.