Conversation over.
The end.
It was the same shit with him. Whenever I finally got him talking, he shut down when I asked him a personal question.
I studied him as he mixed water and buttermilk batter into a bowl, humming a tune under his breath. It sounded like “Ti amo”by Umberto Tozzi. And as I listened closely, I picked up a few words and knew which part of the song he would say next.
“Io ti amo e chiedo perdono,” I sang along with him, and when he heard my voice, he angled his body to look at me.
He smiled, a real one that made his blue eyes look even brighter. Nico didn’t look like he had an ounce of Italian in him. If I had to guess, his mom was Irish. But he could speak the language perfectly and had a beautiful singing voice.
He poured the batter onto the waffle iron when we finished the song. It was easy to forget he was one of the infamous Boardwalk Kings.
Mafia.
A criminal.
Mine.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted him, how much I wanted him to do bad things to me.
While the waffles cooked, I helped him wash dishes. Unfortunately, he was a leftie, so our elbows kept tapping. One time I yelped.
“You have a pointy elbow.” I laughed, rubbing the bone. “Keep that thing away from me.”
He took my wet hands and dried them with a towel. Then he pushed me against the sink and dipped his head down. “Do I scare you?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer the question. So I stared at Nico, digging my teeth into my lip.
“Stop biting your lip,” he said in an authoritative tone. “Before I bite it for you.”
I drew in a deep breath, still unable to speak. With Nico invading every inch of my space, making the kitchen feel like it was closing in on us, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what to do with my unwanted feelings for the blond Adonis.
Instead of using my words, I bit my lip again. I tugged hard with my teeth as our eyes met.
He shook his head, a smirk tipping up the corner of his mouth, and then his lips crashed into mine. Of course, he tasted as good as he smelled, like mint toothpaste and oranges. I threaded my arms around his neck, standing on my tippy toes to deepen the kiss.
Nico was so tall.
I was way too short.
It didn’t help I wore flats.
His tongue swept into my mouth, and his fingers burrowed into my hips. He lifted my feet off the floor and set me on the counter. I let my hands wander up and down his thick chest and roam over his shoulders.
Nico’s hands moved from my hips to beneath my breasts, his thumbs stroking my ribs.
Right there.
Just a few more inches.
Touch me.
Please.
But before we could take this any farther, the scent of burnt waffles filled the room.
He peeled his lips from mine and swiped his thumb over my cheek. “Fuck. You’re distracting, Ava.”