Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 85

“Oh…” I didn’t know what else to say. “This is…thank you. My mother had a collection and I’ve added to it over the years.”

“I guess we both collect things to hold on to the people we lost too soon.”

“I guess we do.”

Tonight, I wanted to hold on to him before I lost him. I wanted to collect memories that I could hold tight at the end of our agreement. No more stubbornness to hold me back. No more denial to keep me from admitting what I knew. I trusted him, and that realization only watered the flower, making it grow into something I knew I was running out of time avoiding.

“Come on. Let’s head back.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me close the short walk back to the yacht. Each step solidified my decision. Need beat through me with each thud of my heels against the pavement. By the time we stepped onto the yacht, every muscle pulled tight with need, ready to snap.

“Nico.” My hand held him still, and he turned back to see why I stopped. I swallowed, and his brows furrowed. “Do you respect me?”

I knew he did. I just wanted to hear it. “Of course, I do.”

“Then that’s enough.”

First must come respect. Then the love can grow.

My mom’s words rang in my head, and I had no doubt that love had already begun to grow.

I jerked his hand, pulling him close, so I could wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to me. “I’m done fighting,” I confessed so close to his face, my lips brushed his.

He stood frozen, and to make my declaration clear, I flicked my tongue against his lips and pressed my core against him.

With a growl, his hands dropped to grip my ass and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and moaned when he turned to press us against a wall.

We inhaled each other like we’d been in a cage starving, staring at a feast just outside. I’d unlocked the door, and neither of us was holding back. He held me so tight I was sure I’d have bruises in the morning, and I looked forward to each one.

He pulled back, and I kissed down his neck, my world turning when he shifted and walked to where we lounged earlier. Cool air caressed the curve of my ass where my dress rode up, and a chill worked its way up my spine when he sat me on the cold surface of one of the tables.

An attendant appeared, and without taking his eyes off me, Nico ordered him to leave.

“Get the fuck out of here, and no one appears until I call for them.”

“Yes, sir,” the attendant responded, like a grumbling man and half-naked woman on a table were nothing new.

As soon as we were alone again, we collided.

His hands were everywhere, up and down my sides, squeezing my ass to push his groin into mine. Gripping my thighs to pull them tight around his waist, holding on like I’d slip away any moment. On my breasts, grazing my nipples on taunting passes and hard pinches.

My hands moved just as frantically, desperate to feel him. He’d walked around every hotel room naked, his golden body hard like Adonis, and my hands shook with the need to touch him. I fumbled with the buttons, eventually giving up and tugging the shirt open, baring the hair on his sculpted chest, not stopping until I could see each ripple of his abs.

He tugged at the neck of my dress, biting my collarbone, growling like an animal when he couldn’t reach far enough down my dress, repaying the favor and ripping the soft sweater material straight down the front.

I didn’t even flinch; instead, I arched my chest up, my body begging him to take me. His hand wrapped around my back and hoisted me high, latching onto my nipple through the thin bra. My cry of pain and pleasure echoed in the night sky, uncaring if anyone could hear. I held him to me, mussing up his hair, whimpering, and doing my best to grind my core against the hard length tenting his pants.

His free hand played at my thighs, tugging my panties aside to gently graze through my slick folds.

“Fuck me. I missed this pussy.”

Another pass, and my frustration grew. We’d waited long enough, and I wanted now, now, now.

Shoving him back, I slid from the table, tearing at his pants to free his cock.

“Verana…”

“You’ve tasted me, now let me taste you.”

He groaned as his length slipped free into my waiting palm. Looking up, I slicked my tongue along the underside, placing gentle kisses against the slit. Holding his girth in my hand, I stared at it, the length and thickness intimidating. His fingers snaked into my hair and yanked me back to look up. With the glittering lights from the deck, the only illumination, he stared down at me like the devil, and I gladly knelt at his feet.

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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