My eyes dart towards the lifeless body of the dead cop.Sloppy seconds.
Nico’s right.
"So." His lips curve up into a ghost of his familiar grin. "Your only choice is me. Come with me now, and stay alive long enough to be pissed off at me later. What’s it going to be?”
The sirens are louder now. I know I don’t have a choice left.
“You,” I tell him. “I’ll come with you.”
He laces his fingers through mine. “Good girl.”
The sirens swell, and he's already pulling me toward the door.
3
NICO
I havetwo simple rules in my life:
Rule number one: never start a fight I can’t finish.
Rule number two: never leave loose ends.
Somehow in less than twenty-four hours, I’ve managed to break both, and they both have to do with the woman currently sitting in my passenger seat.
I had her fucking pinned beneath mine against her shower wall ninety-one days ago, and fucked her like my life depended on it.
And somehow, Lydia Palomino fully clothed is doing more to me than her naked, wet, and dripping self.
She’s long changed out of the green dress she wore at the wedding into something more comfortable. A light cream-colored blouse and a pair of long gray sweatpants. Her makeup has been scrubbed from her face, revealing dark circles under her eyes but making her look even hotter than I remember.
My grip around the steering wheel tightens, and I push the accelerator down harder than I should, and my car engine roars as it picks up speed.
Sure, why not. Let’s add speeding to the mix. Fuck it.
But doing that means I’m not sneaking glances towards her. Every time I do, my anger burns just a little hotter, and I can’t decide if I want to reach over and wipe her clean or put my fist through the dashboard.
I memorized every curve and detail of her body with my hands and mouth–her long dark hair that I wrapped around my fist like a leash, the small mole on the back of her neck, and her heart-shaped ass that jiggled and bounced from every rough thrust.
For ninety-one long tortuous nights, I find myself dreaming about her. I’d either wake up with my dick rock hard and leaking, or my hand already pumping myself past the point of no return.
I wasn’t fucking joking when I told her at the wedding that fucking her was a mistake that never should have happened.
Because for ninety-one fucking days, I just want it to happen again.
There’s one thing that my piece of shit father was right about me: I never learn from my mistakes and I’m always eager to repeat them.
Which is why, against my better judgment even though I’m pushing almost a hundred miles an hour, I steal a glance at her and at that smear of blood on her cheek.
As fucked-up of a thought it is, seeing her with another man’s blood on her face like a mark of ownership is kind of fucking hot.
My dick starts straining painfully against my pants.
I hadn’t counted on coming back to New York and killing so damn soon, least of all a cop. But the moment I saw his fucking hands on Lydia, I acted without thinking.
“Why did you leave?” I finally strain out.
Lydia turns from staring out and looks at me.