“You should get them trimmed.”

“I’ll add it to my list.”

“Usually, only old men need to trim their nose hairs,” I say, curling my bare, wet toes with another shiver. “You’re getting old before your time, Von Bergen.”

“Still younger than you, old woman.”

My lips part. “I am not old! Take that back.”

“Take back the part about my nose hair.”

“I can’t. It’s true,” I say, before amending, “but you can’t tell unless you’re at this particular angle. So I guess only people kneeling at your feet will discover your secret.”

His eyes glitter. “Well then, I suppose I’m safe enough. Haven’t had any of those lately.”

“No?” I’m far more curious about that than I should be and still buzzed enough to ask, “Why not? Bad breakup?”

“No, just haven’t found anyone I’ve connected with recently.”

“But do you really need a connection for a blow job?” I close one eye, shooting him the angry penis, making him laugh as he says, “I think so. A connection is good. What about you?”

“Do I need a connection to get a blow job?” I snort. “I don’t get blow jobs.” I wiggle a finger at my below-the-neck region. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a girl.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.”

My shoulders inch closer to my ears, and I shiver for reasons that have nothing to do with the frigid water pelting my back. “You have?”

“You know I have, Alexandra. You know full well I think you’re gorgeous and sexy and impossible and…perfect.”

I blink damp lashes. “I didn’t know that. I remember you said something about a crush, but…”

He sighs. “I do have a crush. And to me, you’re perfect.”

“No one thinks I’m perfect,” I whisper.

“I do.”

“But I’m not,” I confess. “I’m cranky and bitter and…sad sometimes.”

He crouches down, his arms braced on his knees as he brings his face nearly level with mine. “None of which interferes with your perfection. Cranky, bitter, and sad come and go. The fierce, clever, loyal, accomplished woman you are remains the same.”

“Are you trying to get into my pants?” I ask, the words out before my drunken brain can rein them in.

His forehead furrows. “No. The opposite, actually.”

“Me, too,” I say. “Having sex would be a terrible idea.”

“It would,” he agrees.

“A terrible…wonderful idea?”

“Zan,” he says, my name a warning.

“Nick,” I counter, making his an invitation.

“You’re drunk.”

“Just a little,” I murmur. “Just enough to tell the truth.”

He reaches out to cup my face in his big hand, brushing the water from my bottom lip with his thumb, making me ache. My tongue slips out, flicking across the pad of his finger, tasting the salt of his skin.

His breath shudders out, and his voice is a throaty rumble as he pulls away. “I’m going to turn off the water and fetch your pajamas. And then I’m going to tuck you into bed and sleep on a lounge chair.”

“Because you’re a gentleman?”

“Because I’m afraid I won’t be,” he says softly. “Not if I share that bed with you tonight.”

I bite my lip. “What if I wake you up when I’m sober and ask you to join me? Would you?”

“I’m going to get your pajamas.”

“I don’t usually wear pajamas.” I stand, reaching back to turn off the water. In the silence after the halt of the spray, I add in a husky voice, “I sleep in the nude.”

He curses beneath his breath. “I’ll be on the lounge chair on the balcony. Sleeping in my clothes. All of them. Call if you need me.”

My lips part, but before I can reply, he’s across the room and out the door.

Which is good.

The increasingly sober part of me is mortified that I’ve let him see how much I want him. But I’m also…relieved.

I never intended to get wasted—and wouldn’t have if someone hadn’t spiked my drink—but I ordered that mojito for a reason. Deep down, maybe I was looking for an excuse to let down my guard a little, just enough to tip Nick off to how much I’d like to touch him, to be touched by him.

Our siblings already think we’re banging like bunnies, and our chances of changing their minds are slim to none. No matter how solid our rebuttal when we get home, we’re going to have to deal with the family fallout for years to come.

And if we’re going to do the time, seems we should at least do the crime…

“The only crime you should be worried about is Stefano’s,” I tell my reflection as I dry off, change into a fresh robe, and brush my teeth.

Wise words.

I would do well to heed them.

But when I step out into the dark room and spot Nick’s long form stretched out on the lounge chair in the moonlight, it takes every bit of willpower I possess not to go to him.

I force my feet to pad across the cool tile to the bed, then I climb through the mosquito nets, get under the covers, and close my eyes. But I don’t expect to sleep. I expect to lie awake for hours, wishing I wasn’t alone on this big fluffy mattress, aching for Nick’s touch.

Tags: Lili Valente Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net