Page 133 of Stricken

"We could... continue our discussion in private," I suggest.

Nico carefully dabs his lips with the silk napkin and tosses it on the table. "You're a proper gentleman. You wined and dined me before asking for my cock. I'm impressed, Mr. Solovey."

That's all the invitation I need. I signal for the check and guide Nico through the empty restaurant and to the banks of elevators.

There, as I press the button, I lean in and murmur in his ear, "I have a few more things you'll be impressed with, Mr. Morelli."

Ding.

The elevator arrives.

* * *

"You know how to set the mood," Nico husks out between the kisses. The room is just a few floors below the rooftop restaurant, but it feels like we're running out of time and I still have a million kisses I want to give him as a reminder of us before it's all gone, before we are torn apart by the very world we reign over.

"Da," I respond, dragging my lips over the column of his throat, my hands finding purchase on his hips as I press him against the mirrored wall of the elevator a little harder. "I wanted tonight to be special." My heart is an erratic metronome in my chest as I look at him. His blue eyes shimmer in the fluorescent light of the cabin, going down.

Our lips collide again, a delicious clash of hunger and need. He tastes of the merlot we shared, so heady. A soft moan escapes him as I deepen the kiss, my tongue delving further into his mouth, desperate to memorize every contour.

All too soon, the elevator dings, signaling our arrival. Reluctantly, I pull back, my lips tingling with the loss of contact. Nico's chest heaves, his cheeks flushed a tantalizing pink. Hand in hand, we step out into the empty hallway.

Our room is at the end of the corridor. And my fingers tremble when I slide the key card into the lock. It clicks open like a promise. We stumble inside, the door slamming shut behind us, sealing us away from prying eyes and the weight of our realities.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking scenery of the Vegas skyline. But I don't care about the view or the room. I care about the man in my arms, moaning seductively whenever our lips connect.

At some point as we stumble across the room, the reflection of us in the mirrors on the ceiling catch my eye. We are two people in an infinite loop of desire. In this room, there can be no secrets, no lies. Only raw, unfiltered truth.

"I'm impressed..." Nico breathes, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of my shirt.

I silence him with another kiss, backing him toward the king-sized bed that seems to dominate the space. We fall onto the mattress, limbs entangled, our clothes suddenly too constricting, too suffocating.

"Need you so bad, Romeo," I murmur against his skin, my lips trailing fire along the curve of his jaw. "Want to feel all of you."

Nico arches into my touch, a low groan tearing from his lips. "All of me is already yours."

Those words, spoken with such certainty, such devotion, threaten to unravel me completely. With renewed urgency, we remove the last of our clothing. Pants, shirts, shoes, socks. Not a single layer left between us.

We're skin against skin, heart against heart. In this moment, we are not heirs or rivals. We are simply two men, Vlad and Nico.

Hot Shot and Romeo.

And we are seeking solace in each other's arms.

I lean over Nico, holding him down on the bed with his wrists in my grasp. Our chests rise and fall rapidly as we lock eyes. This is always the most intense part for me–the unspoken challenge between us that made me fall for him the very first time we did this.

"Don't get cocky," I say playfully, shaking my head and tracing my tongue over the grooves of his chin. And that goddamned cleft. Fucking perfection. "Just because I said tonight was special doesn't mean I'll go easy on you."

He smiles at me, that charming smile, all teeth and sarcasm.

Then in one swift motion, he spins me around. I'm the one pinned to the mattress now.

"Look who's talking," he rasps out, leaning in to nip on my earlobe.

My cock stands at attention, ready for action.

I muster all my might and turn us again, drinking in the sight of him splayed out beneath me.

Deep down, a part of me still marvels at the twisted path that led us here. Affection, in all its messy, complicated glory, has always been a liability in our world. A weakness to be exploited. But gazing down at the man who holds my heart in his hands, I know with startling clarity that I would burn the world to ash for him.

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