Oh. My. God.
A broken moan, desperate and needy, tears out of my throat when I feel long, calloused fingers slide to my nape and hold me still as Nico’s mouth moves over mine. My fingers curl uselessly in my lap even as my brain is void of any thoughts.
He’s kissing me.
The man I have loved long before I understood what the word meant is giving me my first kiss, and I should…
I have no idea what the hell I should be doing, but when the hand on my nape slides into my hair and gently tugs, I realize that it doesn’t matter. Nico makes a deep guttural sound as he deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing into my mouth and making me gasp. I taste wine on his lips, on his tongue and his breath against mine drives me wild. The sounds he makes only fuel the heat flooding my belly and turning my nipples hard against my bra.
A whimper slips out as I try to kiss him back, my lips awkward and eager. All reservations fall away as I lean into the one thing I’ve wanted for so long. Nerves give way to desperation, and inexperience is buried by need as I fully submit to the kiss. Another broken moan slips out when his tongue finds mine, sucking at it with a hunger that burns through my skin and leaves me flushed and sensitive. I’ve wanted his lips on mine forever, waiting to feel his breath mingle with mine. The deep, all-male sounds he’s making only stoke my hunger for him.
I love you.
Christ, how long have I wanted to say those words? To hear him say them back to me. To feel them in a kiss so hot it makes me ache deep and low. To share this moment with him. I’m trembling when he pulls me onto his lap, gasping when I feel the hard press of his cock against my bottom. His hand circles my waist and pulls me closer as the other tightens in my hair and claims my mouth like I hold the air he needs to breathe.
And it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.More.
“Nico,” I gasp, rolling my hips and rubbing myself against his erection, the friction sending little sparks of heat up my spine. Except his name on my lips must snap something in him because he freezes a moment before drawing his hands away andpulling back. Where I expect to find desire on his face, I find something harder to read—conflict, a jaw clenched tight.
“Nico?”
Slowly, he pulls away and gets up from the bed. Without a single word or another glance at me, he leaves. With my lips still tingling from the kiss, I stare at the door long after he’s gone, confused by what just happened. I’m not entirely convinced that I didn’t imagine the whole thing, and if my body wasn’t still aching for him, I might believe I had.
There’s no way Nico would actually kiss me, right? Not after all he’s done to drill his new role in my life into me. My stepbrother. Forbidden to me.
Now that we’re family, it’s only right that I protect my little sister, don’t you think?
I reach up and touch my lips, already dreading the Vegas trip. Maybe I’ll wake up, and all this will be a bad dream, something I can shake off. Except, as I lie back in bed, all I can do is replay the kiss over and over again until each second of it is burned in my brain.
Vegas is going to be a disaster.
Chapter Three
Nico
The Rossi estate stands before me, a behemoth of manicured lawns and sculpted hedges. It’s hard to believe sometimes that this is a home and not a museum, but it sure does feel that way whenever I walk in. I was struck by the place the first time Matteo brought me to his house, if one could even call it that. My family was not poor by any measure, but even I had to admit the Rossis lived on a different scale.
More than twenty years have passed since I first saw this place, and it still gets to me.
My hands clench on the steering wheel as I try not to think of its occupants. Or one specific occupant who makes my dick hard when I have no right to feel that way about her. Fucking hell, what was I thinking, kissing Gabriella Rossi? I let the thought of Gabriella meeting another man get under my skin so much that I crossed a hard line. A very clear and firm line.
Fuck.
It’s tempting to beat my head against the steering wheel, but the wrought-iron gates of the Rossi Estate glide open,pulling me from my thoughts. I ease the car forward, the gravel crunching softly beneath the tires.
I drive along the winding driveway, each turn revealing a new facet of the property’s grandeur—the pool, the fountains, the beautiful gardens. I roll down the window to let in air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint, sweet perfume of exotic flowers.
As I approach the house, the true scope of its opulence becomes clear. The stone facade gleams in the sunlight, and the towering windows reflect the cloudless sky. I can’t help the strange sense of displacement that sets in despite being considered an official member of the family.
I park the car and sit for a while, staring blankly at the massive structure as my mind turns to the girl inside it. It’s been two weeks since I last set foot in the Rossis’ home, avoiding everywhere that I’d run into Gabriella. Hell, I nearly talked myself out of taking her to Vegas for the sole reason of not wanting to watch her pursue a life that doesn’t include me. I can’t fucking stand thinking about her meeting another man in Vegas—my mind threatens to go somewhere dark every time I do. The fact that she never answered my question about the painting drives me up the fucking wall.
I could still turn around and drive away, make sure she never makes it to Vegas at all.
The doors open, and I watch as Silvia steps outside, dragging a suitcase behind her, a second before a mass of wavy chocolate brown hair follows her out, carrying a small case. “Silvia, stop. I can carry my own damn bag!” The older woman doesn’t stop despite the girl trying to wrestle it away from her, and the two start laughing as they come down the steps, fighting over the suitcase. “Silvia!”
“It’s fine, I want to help.”
“But it’s too heavy,” Gabriella protests, clear affection on her face as she watches Silvia struggle to drag the suitcase down. “At least let me help.”