Page 49 of The Woman at the Funeral

I could feel Nico’s gaze on me. And I knew there was no way he didn’t see my desire. I could feel it in my heavy eyelids, in the flush across my cheeks and chest, in my quick, shallow breathing.

Against the material, his cock twitched.

And there was no stopping the little whimper that escaped me in response.

When he spoke, his voice was rough from sleep.

“You can touch me if you want.”

I think I short-circuited.

That was the only explanation for how my hand lifted, reached out, then slid over to cover him through his pants.

Nico’s breath hitched, and his hips bucked slightly against my touch.

Spurred on by his reaction—and my own curiosity—my fingers curled around his thickness and stroked him once. Twice. Three times.

Another little sound escaped me.

This time, it had Nico folding up.

The movement made my hand fall away from his cock, but his hand rose instead, sinking into my hip.

Coaxing, but waiting, giving me the chance to make my own decision.

The second I stepped closer, he was reaching with both his hands, pulling me down until I was straddling him.

There was no hesitation in dropping my hips down on his lap.

Nico’s breath hitched as a soft moan escaped me when his hard length pressed against the barely-there material of my shorts and panties.

His hands slid to my ass, sinking in, using it to rock me against him again.

But I didn’t need the assistance. My own hips were already rocking, rubbing against his hard length.

My head fell back on a moan. And Nico’s face was right there, his lips pressing into my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

I’d just done another delicious little rock against the thick need pressed against me when there was a staccato rapping on the door.

I jerked up hard, losing the feel of him.

Nico’s head pressed forward, resting his face between my breasts for just a second, taking a deep breath.

“That’s Zeno.”

“Yourbrother?” I gasped, jumping off his lap, my nerves jittery, frazzled. The desire was still a vice grip in my core, aching and unfulfilled. I could still feel the scratch of Nico’s scruff on my neck.

A part of me wanted to sayscrew itto anyone on the other side of the door, walk back there, strip out of my bottoms, climb on his lap, and let him slip deep inside me. Then ride him until we were both panting, moaning, and climaxing together, not caring about who might be overhearing.

I glanced back just in time to see Nico tucking his hardness upward to discreetly hide his erection in his waistband before climbing off the couch.

Just the sight ofthathad me practically shaking with need.

“I brought what you asked for,” Zeno called through the door. “And I’m expecting some of that banana bread coffee you mentioned.”

Glad for something to do, I walked back into the kitchen to start another cup as Nico opened the door.

And in walked a guy who, at a base level, looked a lot like his big brother. They were both tall, both fit, both dark-haired, and had amazing bone structure.

---