Chapter Seventeen
Olivia was surprised to find Nico sitting on her bed—or what used to be her bed—when she stepped out of the bathroom. She was dressed in one of the new sundresses she'd gotten yesterday, but her hair was still wet under the towel she had wrapped around her head.
"Why do you shower in here?" He stood from the bed, closing the distance between them before plucking the towel from her head and tossing it to the floor.
"What are you doing here?" He was hardly ever home during the day and never in the morning. And even when he was, he was usually tucked away in his office.
"I live here." His fingers made tracks through her wet hair, working out all the tangles.
A small smile tugged at her lips. "You know what I mean."
He grinned. "I took a few days off. Thought it would be nice to spend some time together that didn't involve a bed. Although, I've got to admit, seeing you in the morning, hair wet and visualizing you naked in the shower is playing havoc with my dick. I'm sorry I missed the show."
Her eyes dropped below his waist, the bulge in his slacks a testament he'd spoken the truth. With a mind of its own, her hand reached out, but Nico grabbed her wrist, stopping its forward momentum. She popped her head up to find him smiling down at her.
"As much as my dick is pissed at me right now, I meant what I said. I want to spend time with you out of the bedroom. Talking. Speaking of which, you never answered my question."
She had to think a few seconds to remember what his question had been. Then lifting a shoulder, said, "All my stuff is in here. I'm sure the last thing you want is my shampoo, body wash, toothbrush, and a bunch of makeup cluttering your space."
He leaned in close, nuzzling the spot behind her ear. "I would love to walk into my bathroom and have it smell like you."
Heart pounding from his nearness, the warmth of his breath against her neck, and the low rasp of his voice, she said, "Your scent would be there too, so it wouldn't actually smell like me, it would smell like us."
"Even better."
His lips descended on her neck, and the small plume of desire she felt every time he was near ignited into a raging fire of need. A moan escaped her throat, and her hands clutched at his upper arms, desperate to draw him closer.
He abruptly pulled away, taking a large step back. She... whimpered. Honest to God, it was the only way to describe the sound she'd made. It was embarrassing.
Nico's eyes blazed. "Don't look at me like that."
How was she looking?
He took a half step forward and stopped, indecision written on his face. It was a look she'd never seen from him before and clearly not something he was used to feeling. She couldn't help it, she laughed.
He growled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her from the room with long strides.
"Where are we going?" She had to run to keep up and nearly stumbled as they raced down the stairs.
He paused, partway turning around and sweeping her up into his arms before continuing his descent, barely missing a beat.
She tried again. "Where are we going?"
"Out."
They were already out the front door and halfway to the garage before she thought to remark. "I don't have any shoes on." Not to mention, her hair was still wet, hadn't been brushed, and without the help of some product it would dry a frizzy mess. "Nico, this is silly. Put me down and let me finish getting ready, then we can go out."
With a resigned sigh, he set her on her feet. After a beat, she yelped while bouncing on her toes. "Pick me up. Pick me up. The ground is hot."
Sweeping her back up, he chuckled, making his way back to the house.
He deposited her in the foyer. "You've got five minutes."
She took fifteen. Coming down the stairs to a frowning Nico pacing the marble, she couldn't help but laugh.
He looked up, a smirk on his lips as he held up a hand. "Before you say anything, I'll admit, that wasn't my finest moment."
She met him at the bottom of the stairs, and he took her hand, leading her out the front door. "I don't know, I thought it was kind of sexy. I've never been swept off my feet before."
He gave her a grin. "Then I take it back. It was definitely my finest moment."
"Where are we going?" she asked when they reached his Porsche, and he opened the passenger door for her. She looked around, finding it odd none of his men were in sight. Marco was usually always at his side.
"It's a surprise." He gave her forehead a kiss before lightly pushing on her shoulder to direct her into the car and shutting the door.
Turned out, her new husband had connections. Not that she should have been surprised by that. He led her through a maze of hallways of one of the more popular hotels on the strip until they came to a large set of doors. They opened into a small, empty concert hall. Rows of plush seating led to a backlit stage. They walked down the center aisle and took seats ten rows back from the stage—a perfect view without having to crane one's neck.
The audience lights dimmed as the stage lights glowed and loud music poured from hidden speakers, vibrating through the seats and pounding through her body.
Nico took her hand, squeezing it as the curtains parted and a lone figure dressed in a sparkling bodysuit twirled onto the stage.
Leaning forward in her seat, her jaw dropped, and her free hand flew to cover her mouth, tears filling her eyes.
Her head swiveled. The lighting was dim, but she still saw the smile on Nico's face, his gaze directed at her and not the stage. She was beyond words as she swallowed the emotion suddenly clogging her throat. That he'd remembered and then acted on something she'd said almost in passing—rambling pillow talk after sex—more than a week ago was beyond her comprehension.
He nodded at the stage, and she turned back. More acrobats had arrived. She gripped his hand tighter as her shock was replaced by excitement. She watched in awe, her thoughts drifting to when she was fourteen and the Russian acrobats had first come to Vegas. There'd been a documentary on TV, and she'd been instantly captivated. The way they could move their bodies, the trust they had in each other to perform such great feats, it had blown her away. She'd promised herself, somehow, someday, she'd see a live performance. And Nico had made that day come to pass.
Olivia gave the bowing performers a standing ovation, clapping with all her might as the stage lights dimmed and the house lights came back on.
"Did you enjoy the show?"
Olivia twirled to Nico with a smile so big, her cheeks hurt. "I loved it. Thank you. I can't believe you remembered such an inconsequential thing."
"Nothing out of your mouth is inconsequential. I absorb and remember every word you speak."
She stepped into him, her arms going around his waist, her head pressing so tightly against his chest she could hear the soft thump of his heart. His arms came around her, cradling her in warmth and protection. She felt another piece of her heart get stamped with Nico's name. She was falling for him fast and knew if he felt even a fraction of what she felt for him, she could live out her days content.
He gave her a squeeze. "Come on, would you like to meet the performers?"
She pulled back enough to see his face, sure the emotions she was feeling still showed in her eyes as she whispered, "I'd love that."
* * * * *
Nico stood on the sidelines as Olivia fawned and gushed over the performers. Her laughter rang out after one of the male acrobats said something to her, making his teeth clench. The only thing saving the young punk's neck was the arm he had slung around the waist of the female performer standing beside him, and the fact it looked content to be there.
A text flashed across the screen of his phone, and he quickly typed a reply to Marco before making his way to Olivia. "You ready to go?"
She looked up, eyes twinkling, a big smile lighting her face as she nodded. She looked back at the acrobats. "It was a wonderful performance. Thank you so much for talking with me."
Nico took her hand, leading her out of the hotel and back to the car. "What would you like to do next?"
She looked up at him in surprise.
He chuckled. "I'm all yours for the day, and tonight, I have another surprise for you." He helped her into the car then hurried around to get in and turn on the air. He'd parked in the underground parking, but the inside of the car would still be warm.
He turned to her as she fiddled with her seat belt. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged. "I don't know."
Yeah, well, he didn't either. He'd taken women to dinner then to bed, and that had been the extent of his interaction with them. And as much as it pained him to admit, he was out of his element. "Surely there's something you enjoy doing?" His words come out harsher than he'd intended. It sounded almost like a dare.
He saw her shoulders stiffen and was about to ask again, softening his tone, when she blurted, "Can we go see a movie?"
He was silent a few beats. "A movie?"
"Never mind. It was a stupid idea."
He didn't like the look of disappointment on her face. Doubly so because it was his careless response that had put it there. He grasped her chin, turning her to face him. "It wasn't a stupid idea. I just wasn't expecting that answer, and it threw me for a loop."
Her lips twitched. "Threw you for a loop?"
He traced a thumb over her lips. "Yeah, though I should be used to it by now. You never do or say anything I'm expecting you to."
Her lips brushed the pad of his thumb as she asked, "And is that a good thing?"
He leaned in, his nose brushing alongside hers as he breathed in her scent. "I'm thinking it's a really good thing."
Nico couldn't remember the last time he'd been to a movie—maybe sometime in his teens—but a lot had changed. Seats were roomier, cushioned, and tipped back. The screens were larger, and the sound quality was better. But his favorite improvement was his accidental discovery of the lifting armrest.
With Olivia snuggled at his side, his arm wrapped around her, and her lap full of movie snacks she'd insisted he buy—not that she'd had to twist his arm—he was a very content man. He was also thinking movie night would need to be added to his newfound "date night" regime he planned to implement.
He reached his free hand into the bucket of popcorn, tossing a handful of the popped kernels into his mouth. Too much butter and salt, but strangely addictive. Just like his wife's lips that glistened from said butter and that he wanted to lean over and lap at, knowing they'd taste even better than the damn popcorn.
"Want a sip?"
He was pulled from his thoughts of her buttery lips sliding down his cock when she thrust the cup of soda his direction. He leaned his head down and took a sip through the straw. "Thanks."
She gave him a wide smile, her whole face lighting up. "This is fun, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he mumbled distracted by her smile.
The object of his fixation dimmed, her lips flattening into a straight line. "You're not having fun."
He forced his eyes away from her mouth. "I am." He put force behind his words so she'd know he meant them. "I was even just thinking we should do this more often."
He got her smile back. "I'd like that."
The movie started, and he lost her attention. But she didn't lose his, and by the time the ending credits rolled, he had no idea what in the hell they'd just watched.