Page 21 of Canvas of Lies
“No,” I grumbled.
When he laughed again, I buried my face against his neck. He made a soft sound that reverberated deep in his chest, beckoning me closer.
Maybe his resistance was lower than I thought.
I’d enjoyed a reasonably active sex life until the past year or two, when the business had taken over most of my free time and all of my mental energy. Combining that dry spell with the intensity of my desire for Nico was like tossing a match into a puddle of gasoline.
I knew he was a talented flirt, but I was no amateur, not anymore. It was clear his intention was to avoid getting involved with me, at least beyond his role as a criminal mastermind or however he saw himself now. As far as I was concerned, he’d involved himself enough when he set this plan in motion. Could he really blame me if I took the opportunity to wear down his resistance?
There were only so many card games one could play in the course of a weekend.
He said it could take a few days to work out the details of this whole debacle, so I had plenty of time. Knowing him, he’d be expecting me to make a move immediately—impulsive little Kat, ever impatient. I’d gotten him into trouble too many times to count by leaping before I looked.
Joke’s on you, darling Nico,I thought, enjoying the feel of his heartbeat against my ear.
It would be much better to wait until he dropped his guard, or at least until anticipation began to get the better of him. No matter how impetuous I tended to be, I was perfectly capable of patience.
There was something intensely intimate about lying there with him, even though we were both fully clothed. In his arms, against his hard body, my limbs felt soft and languid. He continued to trail his fingertips through the wispy curls that had come loose from my ponytail during the night, and though I didn’t make a sound this time, I melted against him.
When I swept my thumb in a tiny arc across his stomach, I felt him trying to stay still, to keep quiet, but each little movement ratcheted up the tension in those impressive muscles underneath my hand.
He managed to hold it together for another minute before shifting to face me, then he caught my chin in his free hand, stared long and hard at my lips, and said, “You’re killing me, Kat.”
Whether it was the low tenor of his voice, the husky quality of the words, or his use of my actual name, the statement ignited a ball of fire low in my belly. My gaze caught on his mouth before I managed to drag it to his dark eyes, burning with the same intensity that thrummed through the fingers touching my jaw.
I lifted my hand to his face, exploring the sharp planes under a rough shadow of beard, the contour of his cheekbone, the arch of a dark, smooth brow. For so much of my youth, he’d been my best friend in all the world. It was strange and wonderful to explore the man he was.
And Christ, the way he looked at me had my entire body ready to burst into flame.
“This is a bad idea,” he said in a hoarse whisper, but the statement had no strength behind it.
I didn’t bother to acknowledge it, just shifted up against the pillows so that my lips were close enough to torment his with each whisper of breath. His fingers slid along my cheek, then around to cup the back of my neck. For a heartbeat, he held methere, his eyes locked on mine as he kept me captive without a single ounce of force.
Just when I started to think he might pull away, might refuse to take the next natural step, he growled, “To hell with it,” and brought his mouth to mine.
This kiss was heat and light and wave upon wave of emotion crashing over me, over both of us. My fingers clenched in the front of his shirt as I struggled to stay afloat.
Neither my teenage fantasies nor my more mature imaginings could possibly prepare me for the reality of kissing Nico Beaumont. Was it really only moments ago that I’d noted how perfectly we fit together? Kissing him now made it clear on an entirely new level as he tilted my jaw for a better angle. My breasts pressed snugly against his chest and I tangled one leg over his hip as our lips and tongues collided in a heated choreography.
All it took was a single kiss and Nico managed to obliterate the world outside of this intimate little bubble. Each sweep of his tongue and graze of teeth sent me spiraling into a completely different orbit.
A soft, frantic sound tore from my throat, spurring him to take the kiss deeper—though I doubted if he’d intended to let it go this far. Part of me thought he only meant to warn me away from this very thing before drawing back.
The rest of me laughed that idea into the next county.
His hand swept down my body to grasp my hip, tugging my pelvis flush against his, then his palm slid around to cup the swell of my ass.
That was all the invitation I needed. I rocked my hips against him, rejoicing in the clear evidence of his arousal. He growled against my mouth, but his fingers tightened into my flesh, holding me there, letting the heat between my legs sear us both.
When I gasped, breaking the kiss, his mouth cruised slowly along my jaw and down my neck as he shifted to balance on one elbow above me.
“God, you’re soft,” he murmured, rubbing his rough cheek over my collarbone and sending bolts of sensation rocketing through me.
I arched under him as his lips explored my throat and his free hand rose to toy with the top button of my pajama shirt. When his mouth covered mine once more, a single finger traced slowly back and forth along the skin above the cotton neckline.
Just as he slipped that first button free, his phone let out a series of staccato chirps. Nico dropped his forehead to my sternum with a groan.
“You cannot be serious,” I breathed.
