Page 35 of Duke for the Summer

He had a vague recollection of the cab ride back to the hotel, Thea peeling her false eyelashes off as she sat wedged in beside him, and then he was alone with Jacopo in the suite, because Nate might not have that sweet, sweet duke money yet but he did have a credit card, and he had made sure that they got good rooms. Jacopo did dance with him then, clumsily and without music, their hips glued together and his mouth against Nate’s neck, as Nate gasped and dug his nails into Jacopo’s back and kissed every part of him that he could reach.

“I want you,” he heard himself say. His heart was pounding in his ears and his equilibrium was gone and he felt dirty, and desperate, and white-hot.

“You’re so drunk, Nate,” Jacopo laughed.

“So are you. I don’t care. I want you, and we don’t have enough time.”

Jacopo smoothed his hair, and kissed his forehead, his cheeks. Soft, lingering kisses. “Tomorrow,” he said.

And he meant it, rolling over onto him in the periwinkle light before dawn, waking Nate up with a hand between his legs. Nate’s breath caught in his throat, heat rushing to his face. He was still a little buzzed, grimy from the club, his body feeling more like a soft, disgusting thing than an object of desire.

“I can’t believe you want me like this,” he muttered. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth, and I look–”

“You look gorgeous.” Jacopo’s lips grazed his. He ran his hand over Nate’s chest in slow, deliberate admiration. “I think you worry too much.”

Nate craned his neck, pressing up and into the kiss. He closed his eyes, and in the warm dark behind his eyelids, he felt the knot in his chest loosen and his muscles become liquid as Jacopo’s tongue stroked against his. He wanted to believe that he was worthy of this. He wanted to believe that he was whoever Jacopo saw when he looked at him. God, what an embarrassing thing to want. He was tender and trembly and his emotions were all over the place from the hangover, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a shaky little cry as Jacopo’s fingers slipped inside of him. Jacopo must have found lotion somewhere, because his fingers were slick, and he had learned Nate so well in the last few days that soon Nate was begging, saying stupid things, his thighs shaking and his hips canted upwards to give Jacopo better access.

He put a hand on Jacopo’s cock, guiding him, and they were face-to-face, noses grazing, Jacopo’s pupils heavy and his eyes wide, so close that Nate could have counted each eyelash. Jacopo cursed.

“No condom,” he said.

Nate swallowed. His thoughts were racing. He brushed a strand of hair off Jacopo’s forehead, hands trembling slightly. “It’s okay, I think.”

“Nate,” Jacopo sighed. He kissed him, hard, and said his name again, against his lips, and then he was sinking into him.

It was achingly familiar but also new, the friction and the heft of him. Nate wrapped his legs around Jacopo’s back, giving himself up, letting him in deeper. Little shivers of pleasure traveled out from his core, down his thighs and up his back. It felt so good to be filled like this, skin-to-skin, stretched out, his dick already hopelessly sensitive as it scraped against Jacopo’sbelly. Jacopo groaned, and his thumbs dug into Nate’s hips, a second possession just as fierce as the first. Nate kissed him as he began to move, his shoulder, his jaw, the taut line of his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat. Jacopo was whispering things with each thrust, tangled scraps of Italian that sent sparks dancing down Nate’s spine, that made his heart dizzy and his eyes wet, and the bedroom, the city outside the window, and the expectations of the day, the week, the rest of time, seemed to disintegrate. It was only the the trembling in Nate’s abdomen and his fingers clenching in the sheets and this man above him, this moment, and he wanted it to go on forever, wanted to drown in it, as Jacopo’s breaths grew choppy and his teeth grazed Nate’s neck and Nate felt like a rubber band stretched too tight, aching and scintillant and mindless.

It couldn’t last, as much as he wanted it to, and soon the orgasm was slamming into him, rolling through him, and he heard Jacopo let out something like a sob as he came moments later, collapsing against him, his face pressed into Nate’s hair.

They lay there for a moment, limp and messy and tangled together, and then Jacopo began to stir. Nate put a hand on the nape of his neck, his legs still locked behind Jacopo’s back, the two of them fused together.

“Stay here.”

Jacopo was breathing heavily. Nate could feel his pulse through his skin, the heat he radiated. He bowed his head. Nuzzling against Nate’s shoulder, the dip between his collarbones, he muttered something too quiet for Nate to hear.

“Just for a little bit. Please.”

“Okay,” Jacopo said. “Okay.”

*

Gracie cried when they dropped Thea off at the airport, squeezing her new best friend tight, and between all the hugsand hand-wringing and promises to text and plans for Gracie to visit the US, Nate thought he might not even get a chance to say goodbye. But Thea flung her arms around his neck, the smell of her perfume enveloping him like a cloud.

“I love you.” She pulled back, looking at his face. “Do you remember anything we talked about last night?”

“Not even remotely, no.”

Thea grimaced. “Well, just be careful. Protect your heart, Nate.”

He wanted to reassure her that he was fine, but the words caught in his throat. Nate stood there silently, waving at Thea’s back as she walked toward security, her bag wheeling along behind her and her ponytail swinging confidently in the air.

13.

Nate couldn’t sleep the night Thea left, and Ghost Hunters wasn’t cutting it. He lay with his chin tucked against Jacopo’s shoulder, the laptop resting on Jacopo’s chest. Their fingers were twisted together, Jacopo’s thumb idly rubbing over his knuckles, and Nate wondered if he could feel how tense Nate was, the shivery tightness of his nerves. He burrowed closer into Jacopo’s side, trying to calm the beat of his heart.

Jacopo brought Nate’s hand to his mouth, kissing it. There was a dazed little smile on his face, and Nate found himself smiling back. “What?” he asked.

“I just–” Jacopo looked embarrassed. “It’s silly. I just like touching you. Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m allowed to.”

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