Page 85 of Roaming Holiday

He hisses. “Did you just bite me?”

“Can’t help it.” I nip him again, a little harder this time. He winces and tosses an arm above to bring me to his chest while the other stirs the sauce.

“You’re a...” Wesley trails off in thought. He makes the talking gesture with his fingers. “What is the English word—for the fish that bites? E Maldasso no kaiséitré piranso.”

I giggle. “Sì, e piranso stara e piranha. I’m a piranha.” I nip his shoulder right by my mouth. I take a better look at the scar—or burn mark, it seems—that I’d bitten. It’s in the shape of a diamond, almost deliberate. “What’s this one from?”

He glances at it, then tries to shrug off the question. “Something stupid I did with my military buddies. Your Maldanian is getting better,” he says with a proud smile, and my stomach tingles from the praise despite knowing he’s lying about how he got the mark. He nudges my cheek with his nose, dragging his lips across my skin. “Mi verinìta Maldasso.”

My Maldanian queen.

I arch into him on instinct. My body reacts to him as if it’s half of a single entity. While we end up eating the entire pot of spaghetti, my appetite for Wesley is insatiable.

42

NINA

A lawn mower wakes us up at six-thirty in the morning.

With a pathetic whimper, I bury my face in the pillow. “Why?”

I feel Wesley shift as an arm snakes around my waist and pulls me across the bed. “The Antonia wing doesn’t have official tenants. No courtesy rules.”

His rough morning voice releases a set of butterflies in my stomach. From what I feel against my ass, he’s as turned on as I am. As much as I want to go back to sleep, reality is creeping in and I need to leave soon. We lay tangled for another ten minutes as sleep takes its time leaving my body. I drag my finger over a scar on Wesley’s forearm in front of me.

Letting myself fall in love with him is the first selfish thing I’ve done. It puts Jack and the Higher Court and even my family in an awkward position, and I don’t care.

I sit up, blinking myself awake and untangling my hair to throw into a bun. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and survey the apartment. Our dinner plates from last night are still on the counter. I’ve never gone to bed with dishes out like that before.

Wesley stirs, his hand slipping under my shirt—his shirt—and squeezes my bare skin, a habit I’m noticing more. He always wants to touch my skin. He sits up and trails kisses from my shoulder to my neck.

“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” he mutters.

I release a slow sigh, reaching behind me to comb my fingers through his soft hair. My voice stays in a whisper, as if any louder would shatter the night. “It just doesn’t feel real.”

“What doesn’t?”

I turn to him. “This. Us. Now.”

Wesley hums before pushing me onto my back. He climbs on top of me and I revel in how comfortable it feels to have him between my legs. He lowers to my neck, pressing a gentle kiss while sliding the shirt above my breasts.

“How about now?”

I chuckle. “No.”

He grips my backside, the sudden pressure making me gasp as he kisses my collarbone. “Now?”

I bite my lip to stop from giggling. “No, but you’re getting hotter.”

His head dips lower. “Then what about…” The same moment he takes my nipple softly between his teeth, his thumb finds the perfect spot between my thighs. “This?” he whispers as he rubs in slow circles. “Does it feel real yet?”

My eyes flutter shut and I arch into him, pleasure rippling up my stomach and down my legs. “Keep doing that and it will.”

I feel him laugh. A sharp knock suddenly raps at the door, and our heads snap up.

“Wait here,” Wesley says, sliding off the bed and stepping into sweatpants as I cover myself with the blanket. When he checks the peephole, he glances back. “It’s your sister.”

“Maia?”

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