‘What’s your question?’
At the far end of the table Kiara was laughing with the man from Rosie’s gym. Either Nico hadn’t noticed, or he didn’t care. Obviously he wasn’t his sister’s keeper.
‘Are you broken-hearted?’
He’d asked me the same question at the wedding. I hadn’t answered it. Why would I offer up something so personal to someone who disapproved of me?
But now—?
‘No,’ I croaked. ‘I’m not broken-hearted.’
He turned his head and gave me a look that told me nothing. ‘What time does your “friend Christmas” usually end?’
‘It’s been known to continue until New Year. Once we had a guest who enjoyed himself so much he stayed until we kicked him out on January 1. We were about to start charging him rent.’
His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there.
God, he was serious. I mean really serious. Most of the time I was pretty silly. My instinct was to joke around a lot, although I’d worked hard to rein that side of me in, especially around Charlie’s family, who had made no secret of the fact they found my sense of humour inappropriate (and that was before I’d burst out of my dress at the wedding).
Nico confused me. I’d thought he disapproved of me, but here he was with his hand…where it was.
I sensed something lurking behind those layers of ruthless control, something dark layered under the poker face he presented to the world.
I wondered what his secrets were.
Everyone had secrets, didn’t they?
I wouldn’t have minded discovering a few of his.
For once I wished our apartment were bigger. I loved it, but it wasn’t big enough for me to vanish to the bedroom without all twelve people around the table noticing. It was a miracle they hadn’t already noticed what was going on under the turkey. It was a good job Christmas was chaotic.
I really should have helped clear the table, but honestly I couldn’t stand up, let alone walk. All that gentle under-table stroking had driven me crazy. I was so, so close and the building desperation was killing me and yet still he was relentless, stroking and teasing until I had to clamp my thighs together to stop him.
I could feel him throbbing under my hand. Turning my head to look at him I met his gaze and saw that his eyes were darker than usual. Almost black. I shivered, wondering what it would take to make him drop his guard the way he had at the wedding. I’d never seen him laugh, but it occurred to me I’d never seen him show any other emotion either. Except desire. There was no missing that. It simmered in the depths of those black eyes and pulsed between both of us. I looked at his mouth and remembered how it had felt when we’d kissed. I knew that jaw would feel rough against my palms, because I’d had my hands on it only days earlier. I wanted to have my hands on it again.
I was so absorbed by him I was only dimly aware of my sister bringing in the Christmas pudding, a perfect dome of alcohol-infused dried fruit brought as a gift by one of our guests. Rosie had put holly in the centre, doused it in more alcohol and set fire to it in traditional British style. What wasn’t so traditional was that as she put it down on the table, the flame licked one the napkins. It caught fire.
Nico was on his feet instantly. Calmly, he doused the flames with a jug of water and then grabbed a pile of napkins and mopped up the water before it could do more damage. And all without ruining the pudding.
‘Hey, quick work.’ My sister looked shaken but she smiled at Nico and then at me, as if she was approving my choice.
I was starting to approve of my choice, too. The man might be a little uncommunicative, but he was good to have around in a crisis. First my dress, and now this. He wasn’t a man who hesitated. And I liked the way he helped my sister with clearing the table before sitting down again.
I was surprised our little fire hadn’t set off the smoke alarm, but Nico and I were producing far more heat than
At the far end of the table Kiara was laughing with the man from Rosie’s gym. Either Nico hadn’t noticed, or he didn’t care. Obviously he wasn’t his sister’s keeper.
‘Are you broken-hearted?’
He’d asked me the same question at the wedding. I hadn’t answered it. Why would I offer up something so personal to someone who disapproved of me?
But now—?
‘No,’ I croaked. ‘I’m not broken-hearted.’
He turned his head and gave me a look that told me nothing. ‘What time does your “friend Christmas” usually end?’
‘It’s been known to continue until New Year. Once we had a guest who enjoyed himself so much he stayed until we kicked him out on January 1. We were about to start charging him rent.’
His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there.
God, he was serious. I mean really serious. Most of the time I was pretty silly. My instinct was to joke around a lot, although I’d worked hard to rein that side of me in, especially around Charlie’s family, who had made no secret of the fact they found my sense of humour inappropriate (and that was before I’d burst out of my dress at the wedding).
Nico confused me. I’d thought he disapproved of me, but here he was with his hand…where it was.
I sensed something lurking behind those layers of ruthless control, something dark layered under the poker face he presented to the world.
I wondered what his secrets were.
Everyone had secrets, didn’t they?
I wouldn’t have minded discovering a few of his.
For once I wished our apartment were bigger. I loved it, but it wasn’t big enough for me to vanish to the bedroom without all twelve people around the table noticing. It was a miracle they hadn’t already noticed what was going on under the turkey. It was a good job Christmas was chaotic.
I really should have helped clear the table, but honestly I couldn’t stand up, let alone walk. All that gentle under-table stroking had driven me crazy. I was so, so close and the building desperation was killing me and yet still he was relentless, stroking and teasing until I had to clamp my thighs together to stop him.
I could feel him throbbing under my hand. Turning my head to look at him I met his gaze and saw that his eyes were darker than usual. Almost black. I shivered, wondering what it would take to make him drop his guard the way he had at the wedding. I’d never seen him laugh, but it occurred to me I’d never seen him show any other emotion either. Except desire. There was no missing that. It simmered in the depths of those black eyes and pulsed between both of us. I looked at his mouth and remembered how it had felt when we’d kissed. I knew that jaw would feel rough against my palms, because I’d had my hands on it only days earlier. I wanted to have my hands on it again.
I was so absorbed by him I was only dimly aware of my sister bringing in the Christmas pudding, a perfect dome of alcohol-infused dried fruit brought as a gift by one of our guests. Rosie had put holly in the centre, doused it in more alcohol and set fire to it in traditional British style. What wasn’t so traditional was that as she put it down on the table, the flame licked one the napkins. It caught fire.
Nico was on his feet instantly. Calmly, he doused the flames with a jug of water and then grabbed a pile of napkins and mopped up the water before it could do more damage. And all without ruining the pudding.
‘Hey, quick work.’ My sister looked shaken but she smiled at Nico and then at me, as if she was approving my choice.
I was starting to approve of my choice, too. The man might be a little uncommunicative, but he was good to have around in a crisis. First my dress, and now this. He wasn’t a man who hesitated. And I liked the way he helped my sister with clearing the table before sitting down again.
I was surprised our little fire hadn’t set off the smoke alarm, but Nico and I were producing far more heat than
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