Nicolo: The Powerful Sicilian

“David is a revered work of art,” Alessia said, trying not to laugh.

“At least tell me Dave and I came out even. Hey, you’ve got to keep in mind, Dave is, what, twenty feet tall?”

“Seventeen,” she said, and another giggle burst from her lips.

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen some pretty interesting sculptures, too.” He nuzzled her throat, loving the delicious mingled scents of woman and sleep and sex. It had taken all his determination not to wake her with kisses this morning but he’d made love to her so many times during the night that he’d felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of depriving her of a little more sleep. “The Venus de Milo. The Winged Victory.”

Alessia pulled one hand free and swatted his shoulder. “The Winged Victory has no arms and no head.”

“Trust a woman to notice something like that.” Nick nipped lightly at her shoulder, heard her soft intake of breath as he shifted against her. “The point is, you win, hands down.”

“What is this hands-down thing?”

He pulled back. Not far, just enough so he could see all of her face.

“It means,” he said, “that you’re a hundred times more beautiful.”

She smiled. Stroked a dark strand of hair back from his forehead.

“Liar,” she whispered.

“A million times more beautiful,” he said softly.

He kissed her. Moved over her. Kissed her again and again, until laughter had been replaced by passion.

“Nicolo,” Alessia whispered, “Nicolo, mio amante.”

She had called him her lover. And that was what he was, he thought fiercely, what he wanted to be, what he would be….

And then he stopped thinking and let the world slip away.

The day was overcast.

It didn’t matter.

They ran a mile together, returned, showered and made love. Then they ate a huge meal—the villa came complete with staff—and talked and laughed and talked some more.

Hands linked, they strolled the grounds. The place was all Nick had hoped for. Quiet. Isolated. Nothing but a soft breeze that swept through the ancient olive trees, a small vineyard and, over a rise, a stable and half a dozen horses grazing in a paddock.

He watched Alessia as she petted the animals, watched their reactions to her touch. One big stallion snorted, tossed his head, then leaned into her hand.

I know how you feel, pal, he thought, and when his princess turned and smiled up at him, he cupped her face and

kissed her.

“Happy?” he asked, after they’d climbed a hill, reached the top and found a view that stretched for miles.

“Very happy. To be here, in such a beautiful place with you… How did you find it?”

“Pay the price and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“It all depends on the price.”

“A kiss,” he said, swinging her toward him.

Alessia fluttered her lashes. “You drive a hard bargain, signore.” She stood on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

“You call that a kiss?” Nick grabbed her, dipped her back over his arm and she offered an appropriate shriek. “This,” he said, “is a kiss!”