Page 81 of Dark OZ

I gestured to the boxes. “What are these?” I opened the smallest box. Inside was an adorable set of thigh-high stockings with a seam running down the backs of each leg.

“From the designer labels, I’m going to guess it’s your wardrobe for this afternoon. You can’t pretend to be an heiress in OzMart chic.”

Nick turned to leave. I flung the box to the ground, the matching garter belt falling free.

“Wait.” I took his arm and dragged him into the room. No longer blocked by the body of a giant, the door swung closed with a soundless click. “You’ve been avoiding me like if we made eye contact, it might trigger the apocalypse. Did I do something?”

Raising his eyes to purposely meet mine, Nick heaved an impossible-to-decipher breath.“Tutto, fiore mio. Hai sciolto il filo che teneva insieme tutti i miei pezzi rotti.”He stepped closer, moving into my space until it felt like I was drowning in his shadow. “E se adesso non vado via, li vedrai cadere uno ad uno.”

“Don’t do that…” My thumb smoothed over the broken bone tattooed on his forearm. There was so much more to this man, so much I didn’t know. I wanted to uncover each tattered piece. “Don’t hide behind that gorgeous language.”

Nick’s eyes drifted down, staring at his arm as I stroked back and forth. Something warred in the lines of his eyes. His brows tensed together, looking like each swipe of my thumb was somehow hurting him.

“Do you need help dressing?” His voice was extra low, the gravelly accent thicker than usual and rumbling in the still room.

“That’s not what you said.”

“I know you’ve healed a lot in the past two weeks, but…” The sentence trailed off as his eyes drifted up to my face and then back to the hand on his arm. “I can help if you need it.”

So, we weren’t talking about it. Message received.

I released him and began tossing the lids off of random boxes. Fine. If he didn’t want to talk about why he’d been icing me out for the past three days, then that was just fine. I didn’t need him or his oddly timed moments of kindness.

I flipped open the largest box. A neatly folded brocade pencil skirt and silk blouse sat in a bed of tissue paper, each with a long zipper down the back. Fuck.

Realizing there was no way I’d be able to do this on my own, I finally answered, “I’m still having trouble reaching behind me, but I can just grit my teeth and deal with it like I always do.”

“You don’t heal by stressing your weak points, Thea.”

“That’s how I’ve lived my entire life,Nick. All Em ever did was apply pressure to my weak points.” I pulled out a lace bra and dropped it on top of the pile. The delicate poppy flowers embroidered along the edges of the cups contrasted brightly against the green brocade, looking almost like tiny drops of blood. Snatching up the thong, I spun the thin garment around my finger. “At least this pair is functional, mostly.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. There he was, I knew the softer side of him was hiding somewhere. Dropping the scrap of lace on the bed, I turned around and lifted the hem of my shirt. I made it half-way up before I felt the first pull and hesitated.

Without saying anything, the heat of his presence enveloped me. Even though the brush of his fingers against mine was the only part touching me, I felt him everywhere as Nick took the shirt and lifted.

The collar pulled free, causing my hair to spill down my back. The swaying strands made me acutely aware of how exposed I was. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen me without a shirt, but for some reason, his nearness was making my skin feel electrified. The instinct to cover myself pulled hard at my arms, but rather than give into the impulse, I tugged at the tie on my sleep shorts. The satin cord came loose, allowing them to fall to the floor at my feet.

The back of Nick’s hand slid against the base of my neck, scooping the stray hair over one shoulder. I closed my eyes, imagining the inked surface of each letter, making contact with my neck and trailing down my spine. Never Again. What nightmare was he running from that he needed to be reminded every time he formed a fist? Right now, I’d give anything to keep those hands on me, trauma and all. This brief softness, in contrast with the strength I knew lay in wait, was a unique kind of torture.

When the heat of his breath drifted over my shoulder, I shuddered, waiting for the second his mouth made contact with my skin. Fuck, I wanted him to. I wanted my body to be ground zero when all that restraint finally detonated.

“Nick.” It was barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never allowed myself to want for anything, but I want you.”

He inhaled deep. His nose and cheek pressing into my hair. While his middle fingers on either side of my hips traced the elastic of my panties, pushing them slowly over my hips and down my thighs.

“Se solo fossi un uomo migliore, saresti già mia.”The low timber of his voice vibrated against my back, causing the barest hint of a sting with each sinful syllable.

Reaching around me, he picked up the thong and dropped to one knee. The healed scars flamed as his palms skimmed the backs of my legs. When his lips brushed the sensitive crease where my ass met my thighs, the breath I was holding transformed into a silent moan.

“Il tuo profumo mi fa impazzire. Ogni istante con te rischio di perdere il controllo.“

He tapped my inner ankle, drawing my attention away from the blood rushing in my ears to the lacy underwear held open for me in wait. When he’d said he’d help me dress, this was not what I was expecting. After stepping into them, the expensive scrap of fabric rose slowly up my legs making my pussy throb with every ascending inch.

“Amo il modo in cui fremi ad ogni mio tocco.”

Swallowing my racing heart, I said, “Are you going to tell me what any of this means?”

With a final snap of the elastic, he released me. “No,fiore mio.”

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