Page 88 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
I clawed at his ass, desperate for more of him. “Everything, Nico! All of me! I’m all yours, I swear it—”
My babbling turned to gasps as he thrust inside me, burying himself to the hilt. He held my head, his fingers tangled in my hair, and began to fuck me, slow and deep. He dropped his forehead to mine. I felt his breath on my cheek, heard his rough whisper in my ear.
“For how long will you be mine, Kat? A day?” Thrust. “A week?” Thrust. “A year?”
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
As I stared into his eyes, lost, it occurred to me in a flash of comprehension that this is what real happiness felt like. Burning and flying and unexpected freedom, that last, breathless moment at the top of a roller coaster before you throw both your hands up in the air and let loose a thrilled scream as you begin the weightless drop.
Any final resistance inside me fell away. I belonged to this man, body, heart, and soul, and I grasped the full reality of it in the space of one heartbeat to the next.
On a trembling breath I said, “I’ll be yours for as long as both our hearts are beating.”
Nico stilled. His brow furrowed. His lips parted, as if he’d say something, but he made no sound. But his eyes spoke to me, and what they said was this:
Worship you, cherish you, love you more than anything on this earth.
Joy seared through me, brilliant as a sunbeam slicing through a thundercloud. I’d never felt anything so beautiful, or so powerful, or so perfectly pure.
I started to cry.
He pressed kisses all over my face, murmuring endearments. He started to move again, and I moved with him, and shortly thereafter the two of us made so much noise I was vaguely surprised someone didn’t call the police to find out what all the screaming was about.
We tumbled off the couch in a mess of arms and legs. Sweating, panting, undone, we lay on the cool tile floor, staring up at the ceiling until finally Nico started to laugh.
“Something funny, superstar?”
He returned my sour look with a gentle smile. Swiping his thumb beneath my lower lids, he said, “Other than your raccoon eyes?”
I jabbed him with my elbow. He laughed louder, and pulled me against his chest. “Forgot she doesn’t like to be teased about bein’ such a softie.”
“Right. You also forgot she doesn’t like to be referred to in the third person.” I jabbed him again.
He rolled over and nuzzled his face into my neck. I had no choice but to melt.
“Just fuckin’ life,” he murmured, sighing. His arms tightened around me. “One of the worst days can also somehow be one of the best days.”
I knew why it was one of the worst. But . . . “How so?”
“Because, sweet girl, you finally gave up the cookie.”
I frowned. “I hate to correct you on such a delicate subject, but I gave up the cookie a while ago.”
“That wasn’t the real cookie, baby.”
I felt vaguely insulted. “Excuse me?”
Nico smiled at me. It was like being bathed in sunshine. “Don’t get me wrong, now, that cookie between your legs is fine. More than fine,” he amended with a chuckle when I glared at him. “But the real cookie’s your heart, baby. That’s the cookie I always wanted. You gave me little nibbles. You even gave me a couple of big bites. But you finally gave all of it to me today, right now.” All traces of humor left his face. His voice dropped to a soft, wondering whisper. “And it’s the sweetest thing I ever tasted in my life.”
I let it sit there a moment, not daring to speak. Speaking might ruin it. And I wanted to remember this moment forever, remember exactly how he was looking at me, how it seemed as if we’d just discovered a new planet together. As if we’d just opened the door on an entirely different world.
“You know,” I said, voice breaking, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you sat around making up this stuff in advance only to trot it out at the right moment, just to see if you can get me to cry.”
He glanced at a square of black fabric bunched beneath my hip, a square of wrinkled fabric, sporting a suspiciously wet stain. “Well, if you weren’t cryin’ before, you might start now.”
