THE MINUTE CODY DROPS ME OFF HOME, I lock myself in my bedroom.
Nico hasn’t said a word to me since Theo pulled the parachute off, and I have no idea what to make of it. He’s hot and cold, pulling like he wants me, then pushing like he doesn’t want to want me. It feels like a game, but I don’t know what we’re playing. I don’t know the rules or if I’m winning.
My thighs quiver whenever I recall the kiss. The lacy fabric between my legs is so wet it’s uncomfortable.
He kissed me back.
He kissed me.
Another anxious prickle of lust elevates the need for release. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep playing with my body while thinking about Nico. It’s wrong… but it feels so right when the itch gets scratched.
I rise from the floor, stripping off my clothes to get in the shower because the family dinner is starting soon, but instead of entering the bathroom, I crawl onto my bed.
Just one last time.
My body hums with the primitive, primal thrill, my breaths coming out in shallow puffs. Just thinking about Nico’s lips urgently working with mine has me on the brink of release. The way his fingers tugged my hair and how he bit my lip, deepening the kiss… it’s as if he had a first-row seat to my deepest desires, knowing exactly what I want, what I enjoy.
I skim my hand down my stomach, jerking on the bed as I brush a ticklish spot, then sink into the pillows as I circle my clit. I’m close, poised on edge, ready to fall. God, I was coming apart at the seams when Nico was kissing me.
Is that even possible?
My mind conjures an image of him, hovering above me; his hooded, hungry eyes and tattooed chest as he drives into me, pumping in and out. I imagine him whispering in my ear, his tone low, husky, and demanding.
You’re almost there, aren’t you? Come for me, baby. Let loose.
That’s all it takes for the orgasm to hit, pressing in on me from all sides. My back arches off the bed, and my loaded moan ricochets off the walls. I picture Nico dipping his head, drinking in that moan while he prolongs my orgasm, wringing out every last bit of please until I’m deliriously overstimulated.
I don’t open my eyes, holding onto the visual for a little while. I took care of the ache, but I’ve learned that the satisfied feeling doesn’t last long. I’ll be back needing Nico’s touch in a few hours at most.
◆◆◆
The VIP party starts at six in the afternoon. Cody picked me up, dressed in a black tux, his hair sleeked back and in a bun.
“Can we stop at a shop, please?” I ask when he finishes telling me what’s on the menu tonight.
If Nico wants to play games, so can I.
“Why? What do you need?”
“Oh, um… it’s just something I want to give Nico later.”
He flips the indicator, pulling up outside a gas station. “What kind of something, Bug?”
“You’ll see, it’s a little inside joke.”
I run inside, scouting the shelves. Overly proud of my clever idea, I pay the cashier, tuck my purchase in my bag, then get back in the car.
We’re the last ones to arrive at the Country Club. Well, almost. Nico’s nowhere around, and I’ve not spotted his car, although he does have three, and I only know two, so maybe he’s here.
The foyer acts as the meet-and-greet area, where we spend half an hour mingling with the sophisticated crowd.
I’m struck by how mature and eloquent the triplets are, discussing politics with the upper class.
They don’t show that side every day.
Logan comes over to complain that my sister’s been blowing up his phone, asking him to pose for another cover: a sequel to Sweet Truths. Before we can get into the conversation, Cassidy waves him over, and he excuses himself. I watch as he wraps his arm around her middle, kissing her temple before he pays the man Cass is talking to any attention.
Theo takes his place, the only Hayes I’ve not been properly introduced to before today. He’s got a sense of humor a lot like Conor’s, and he’s a bit like Colt with those bright, assessing eyes. I don’t think any detail slips past him.
“Mia!” Monica Hayes cheers, rushing toward us. A dazzling smile stretches her pink lips before she air-kisses my cheeks. “That’s a lovely dress, honey.” She takes my hand, twirling me around. “Are you ready to play tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ve been practicing all week.”
“Perfect!” She squeezes my hand softly. “I can’t wait. My mother’s been singing your praises for months.”
“Exaggeration,” I say with a smile. “All of it.”
“No need to be so modest.” Her eyes cut across the room, where little Noah’s just started crying in the nanny’s arms. “I better go and see if I can help.” She rushes away, intercepting her grandson from the nanny’s hands like she doesn’t trust the woman to do her job.
“Did you call your dad to tell him you jumped?” Cody asks.
“Not yet. They’re racing in Azerbaijan this weekend, and it’s late there now. I’ll call him tomorrow. I doubt he’ll believe me, though.”
“You’ll have proof,” Conor says, approaching with his date. “One of the instructors who jumped with you and Nico took pictures. We’ll have them next week.”
“That pirouette you did in the air was cool.” Shawn stops beside us with his husband, Jack. “Cody said you’re terrified of heights. Why did you jump?”
“Why did you?” I counter, biting back a smile. “I don’t mind heights. It’s flying I can’t stomach, but you all looked like you were having so much fun up there…” I trail off, catching a glimpse of Nico as he enters the building.
Our eyes lock, and he slowly takes me in the way he always does, inch by inch, like he’s savoring every second. My chaotic feelings force my heart into a faster rhythm when he approaches our little gathering.
I’m silently, openly staring, and at least five seconds have passed since I stopped talking. “Once we got on the plane, I begged Nico to take me back down.”
“You didn’t want to go back down on a plane,” Nico says. “You would’ve said red instead of yellow and orange.”
“Red?” Cody questions.
“She told me not to let her back down but muttered no, and I don’t want to do this non-stop during the safety briefing, so I picked a safe word she could use if she really wanted to stop.”
“I used it. Just a little too late.”
Nico squares his shoulders when I smile at him, his posture tense, jaw clamped tight. The smile slips from my face as if falling off a cliff.
They talk about me screaming on the way down and the flips we did, but I’m not involved.
Was I naïve to think Nico was interested after he kissed me back? I didn’t plan to kiss him. It just happened. Pumped up on adrenaline, I reached for the one thing I ever wanted this badly.
Someone taps a fork on a crystal glass, a signal for everyone to find their seats. Cody ushers me over there while Monica stands on the stage, thanking people for their lucrative donations. I’ve never been a guest at one of Monica’s Balls, but I heard plenty from the triplets. They rarely attend the uptight Friday evening dinner, so I know more about what happens tomorrow.
The room isn’t even half-full tonight, but an aura of importance surrounds every person here. I’m thankful to whoever created the seating plan when I sit across from Nico. Ten seconds later, I’m not so thankful. His face curdles into an expression of distaste, and his jaw works when he catches me staring.
He kissed me back. Why is he so annoyed?
The dinner is served by an army of overdressed waitresses in black and white outfits. One of them, a tall, dark-haired girl, steals Cody’s attention as she places a plate before him.
“I think she’s a little too young for you,” I say as his eyes walk her back toward the kitchen. “She looks about sixteen, Cody. Behave.”
He chuckles, moving the sauteed mushrooms I don’t like from my plate to his. “You look about twelve, Bug. Relax, I’m just enjoying the view.”
“I’m not tense, but… I don’t know. Maybe ask for ID? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
He laughs again, drapes his hand across my shoulders, and pulls me closer, whispering in my ear. “I think Nico’s too old for you, but it doesn’t stop you looking, does it?”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I stutter quietly, doing my best not to glance at Nico even though I feel his gaze. “I, um…”
“I know,” he whispers before I glue together a coherent sentence. “He’s hot, right?” He grins, moving away. “Eat. It’s getting cold.”
I poke the meat, my eyes drawn to Nico’s burning gaze on their own. He looks between Cody and me, the small frown pulling his eyebrows hard to decipher. I focus on my plate, forcing a few pieces of meat down my throat, and flushing them with my spritzer.
Irritation leaks like battery acid into my mind, and the idea I had in the car changes. Nico’s still getting what I bought him, but the execution will be different.
The dessert is served: chocolate brownies with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The waitress places a plate before Nico, and he drops his fork, making a lot of unnecessary noise.
I pinch my lips together, feeling smaller and meaner than a bee when I open my clutch bag, then reach for Nico’s plate. In its place, I leave a pouch of peanut M&Ms.
“You’d rather have this, wouldn’t you?”
He pins me with a pointed stare, his fingers balling into a tight fist on the table. For the first time, I don’t look away first. My heart triphammers in my chest, my knees quiver under the table, but I don’t look away.
He does. He pushes himself back with the chair that scrapes loudly against the parquet floor and storms out of the room, grasping the yellow packet of M&Ms.
Mission failed. He was supposed to say no, I’ll take a brownie every day or something along those lines.
Urgh, I really suck at this game.
Everyone at our table watches me, and a raging glow heats my cheeks. “It was a joke,” I mutter when Conor cocks a questioning eyebrow. “You had to be there to understand.”
“I was here, and I don’t get it.”
“Not now. We had a chat about brownies the other day.” I wave him off. “Never mind.” I push my dessert his way. “You want it? I don’t feel like sweets.”
He grins, digging into the brownie. He’s got a black hole instead of a stomach, I’m sure.
“Come on.” Cody takes my hand when the music changes from jazz to modern, signaling that the dancing can begin. “We’ll get this party started.”
He pulls me to my feet, twirling me around his finger like a rag doll until we’re in the middle of the dancefloor. I give into the music, focused on Cody.
Dancing with him comes naturally. I know what he’ll do next, how to position myself, and I can’t contain the smile when he gently pushes me away, then twirls me around his arm into his chest and swings from left to right.
I’m spinning again, singing the lyrics while Cody makes the dancefloor into his stage.
Colt, Conor, and their dates join in when the next song starts. In a step that seems almost rehearsed, the triplets swing us around, and I end up in Colt’s arms, adjusting my moves to his. Halfway through the next song, I’m with Conor, then back to Cody before the music changes again.
More people are dancing now, gliding across the makeshift dancefloor, each to their own pace and style.
Theo takes my hand two songs later, twirls me away, then yanks me back, and I bounce off his chest. “Shit, sorry. You’re a tiny thing,” he laughs, gripping my waist to lift me up. “Featherweight. Alright,” he mutters, setting me down. “Let’s try again.” His hold loosens as we fall into step.
“I can follow your lead just fine,” I say when he yanks me too hard again. “Use your hands to tell me where you want me. Twist left, and I turn left.” I twitch his wrist, showing him what I mean. “Twist right and I turn right, push, and I’ll back away.”
A tight-lipped smile is his only answer, but soon enough, it no longer feels like he’ll rip my arm out the socket. Britney blasts from the speakers when he leans me back so far I’m sure my hair sweeps the floor.
“You need a drink,” he says two songs later, leading me to the table. “But I’m not done with you. You’re fun!”
I chuckle, plopping down in my seat. Nico’s back there, no trace of the loaded-gun attitude. What’s more, a fresh glass of spritzer and a tall glass of lemonade wait by my clean plate.
“Thank you,” I say, hoping he won’t glare at me again.
He smiles a barely-there smile, warming me inside. I want his lips on mine, his hands in my hair, and his strong muscles under my fingertips.
Seconds later, his mother approaches, asking him to dance, leaving just Theo and me at the table. He’s not getting up unless the music changes to something less demanding so I leave him alone, walking down the long table to stop by William.
“May I steal a dance?”
I love how he readjusts his smart jacket and tie as he gets up, then kisses my hand softly like the undeniable gentleman he is. “Take it easy on me, young lady. I’m a little rusty.”
“You lead; I adjust.”
We squeeze through the crowd of dancing bodies, stopping in the middle, and William slides his hand to my waist. I’m swept off my feet when we start dancing, gliding across the dancefloor, his moves aristocratic in their measured perfection. I expect him to run out of steam by the end of the song, but we dance another one before he bows, kissing my hand again and leading me back to my seat.
“I’ll take it from here.” Nico steps in our way, pulling my hand out of his grandfather’s grasp. “May I?” he double-checks with me, but it’s William who says, of course.
He steps away, and Nico pulls me in, almost flush to his chest, his touch urgent. One of his hands is on the small of my back, the other holds mine, and only then do I hear what’s playing: “Senorita” by Shawn Mendes.
We dance, but it’s nothing like any other dance tonight. This is slow. It’s intense, flawless, but a struggle. I tremble when he twirls me into his arms, dark eyes not veering from my face, the lyrics as if written for the two of us. As if whoever watches from above plays this game, too, toying with my emotions.
“Are we okay?” I ask, breaking the loaded silence. “I’m sorry about the dessert and the kiss, too. I—”
“Do you regret it?”
“I get the feeling I should.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You don’t answer any of mine, so call it even.”
The song fades, changing to “One More Night” by Maroon 5, and I try to step away, but Nico doesn’t let me, drawing me back to his chest.
Every time he pulls me in so desperately, it’s touchdown in my belly, and eighty thousand fans cheer wildly.
“One more,” he says. “And yes, we’re okay.”
The urge to kiss him comes back ten times stronger when he makes the same move Theo did, and my hair sweeps the floor before he pulls me up.
“I don’t regret it. You’re a solid eight,” I reply.
“Then don’t apologize.” He twirls me around his finger, before wrapping his arm around my middle. My back is suddenly flush with his chest, his warm breath in my ear contrasting his icy tone. “Eight? I’m an eight in your book?”
“Don’t sound so upset. It’s good. I’ve never had an eight.”
“Eight?” he echoes again, downright baffled. His step falters for a brief moment before he recovers, lowering his voice to a throaty whisper. “What the fuck is wrong with my kisses, baby?”
I spin around, meeting the heated gaze of his dark eyes. “They’re too short.”
