Witches Get Stitches by Juliette Cross

Chapter 31

~VIOLET~

“I thinkI like this mode of transportation.”

I swung my legs back and forth that were dangling over one of his arms, my own linked tightly around his neck as he carried me like a bride through his courtyard. He arched a brow at me, still quiet. He’d gone super silent on the way home, simply keeping hold of my hand in his lap as he drove. Fred’s clucking caught my attention.

“Oh, Fred. Is he hungry, you think?”

“You can tend to him later,” he said gruffly, shoving open his door and slamming it shut with his foot, all while keeping me in his arms and barely jostling me.

“You need tending to first?” I queried with my own arched brow.

“No.” He stared down, his expression intense yet tender. “You do.”

I wasn’t going to argue. When we hit the top of his stairs, I expected him to toss me on the bed and strip me naked, but he strode directly into his bathroom instead. After setting me on my feet, I went to unzip the dress on the side, but he pushed my hand away.

“Let me do it,” he whispered low and serious. So serious.

Just like that, all levity evaporated. The nearness of our bodies, the heating of our blood, the ever-present magnetism sluicing through our bones, coupled with being separated by force, charged the room with a sudden and jarring spark.

Still, he slid my zipper down with care, then gently pulled my dress over my head. His hands tracked my body, sliding over my skin as if to ascertain any bruises or marks he hadn’t catalogued yet. He was careful not to touch the scratch at my hipline. It wasn’t deep and had just a little dried blood caked there. With gentle fingers, he removed my bra and panties, then put a hand on my hip to keep me in place while he reached over and turned on the shower.

“Get in,” he urged me when the steam started to billow behind the glass door.

The hot water felt like heaven pouring over my body. I stood under the stream, letting it wet my hair as I watched him remove his clothes and step inside with me. Being confined in the space of his shower reminded me how big of a man he was. And how beautiful.

“Nico—?”

His mouth was on mine, firm but gentle licks, coaxing my lips wider apart so he could invade. His big hands slid over my slick skin, down my back, over the curve of my ass, squeezing then trailing back up my waist, my hips, my breasts. And yet, his hands weren’t seeking sexual pleasure or arousal, but more like simply seeking me instead. Gripping and holding and caressing, making sure I was real and here and safe. With him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grated out against my lips, his hands back on my waist where he squeezed hard and held me against the tiles so I couldn’t move as he pulled away.

The wreck in his eyes made me pause. “Hey. What’s going on?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, the water dripping over his black hair that stuck in whorls to his cheekbones and down over his face. His hands cupped my face gently, a tremor shivering through his body. He shook his head and closed his eyes tight, the words seeming to have lodged in his throat.

“Look at me, Nico.” I cupped his jaw, mirroring his hold on me, demanding that he open his eyes.

When he finally did, my breath caught. The devastation there sliced through my flesh and ribcage, right down to my heart.

“Baby,” I whispered, “what’s wrong?”

He brushed his thumbs along my cheeks, then one hand curled into my wet hair, fisting tightly, almost to pain. His voice was sandpaper and jagged nails.

“You’re so precious to me, Violet.” He swallowed hard again, water dripping from his beautiful, perfect mouth saying beautiful, perfect things. “When I thought you could be hurt, I nearly died from the agony.” Shaking his head, water droplets dripped from his chin. As he swept his thumb over the wetness of my bottom lip, he added, “I can’t live without you.”

“Oh, baby,” I soothed, dragging his face closer so he could see me clearly when I said, “I love you, too.” I pressed a kiss to his wet lips, whispering against them. “I so do.”

His eyes fell closed on a groan, his lips trembling as they pressed against my mouth. But when his tongue slipped inside and licked against mine, it was with the gentlest care.

He showed me with languorous sweet kisses how precious I was to him. When my happy tears mingled with the water and his desperation faded, he simply held me close underneath the shower, his heart beating wildly against mine.

After some time, he shut off the water and wordlessly dried me off then himself. He dressed me in one of his Tshirts and slipped on some boxers then carried me not to bed but downstairs. He then tucked me on his sofa with a warm, cushy blanket and left me there.

I didn’t say anything, drowsing slightly as I heard pans clanking as he moved around the kitchen. He nudged me awake I’m not sure how much later, helped me sit up, and made me eat a burger he’d whipped up with sauteed onions and mushrooms with a side of jalapeno cheese fries. The heavy carbs and protein tasted like heaven.

“I really do love you,” I muffled around a bite of delicious burger.

He chuckled, watching me eat while he did the same. “Is it just my talent in the kitchen?”

“All your talents.” I grinned as I swiped a glob of cheesy fries in ketchup.

After we ate, I took his feet into my lap and massaged them, yet again admiring them. Let’s be honest. Every part of Nico utterly fascinated me.

“Foot fetish, Vi?”

He had his hands linked behind his head at the head of the sofa while he watched me with those wolf-green eyes. I liked that he was calmer now. His panic was gone, now that I was safe at home.

Home? When had I thought of his home as mine?

A ping of magic flashed through my mind, like deja vu. This was the vision I saw that day when I did his reading with the Tarot cards. I smiled.

“And if I do have a foot fetish?” I arched a brow at him.

“You can play with anything of mine to your heart’s delight.” Then he wiggled his toes.

I tickled the bottom of his feet. He jerked them away with a bark of laughter.

“This is a fascinating discovery.” I crawled up the sofa and over his body till I could tickle his ribs.

“No, Violet!” he yelled and laughed at the same time.

I kept going till he twisted and moved my body beneath him, wrangled my wrists with one hand and pinned them above my head. We panted, both still chuckling. His gaze drifted up to the injury on my forehead.

“I’m sorry about that.” He traced the line of my jaw with a gentle stroke. “I should’ve punched Shane one more time for that.”

“It wasn’t his fault, to be honest, but that guy Rick. And if we’re keeping score, then I should punch you for banging up my knee.”

He winced, a slight groan rumbling in his chest.

“Jeesh, I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look. I can handle a few bruises.”

“I don’t want you to ever be bruised again. I forbid it.” He pressed a kiss to my lips, a chaste but pleasant one.

“Well, if you forbid it, then”—I yawned—“I suppose that makes it final.”

He smiled. “Let’s get some sleep.” He stood and lifted me into his arms and carried me up to his bed.

“I do have working legs, you know.”

“I know.”

“Though I could get used to getting carted around.”

“Just let me do this without all your sass.”

“Yes, sir.”

He groaned. “Once you’re well-rested, I’m going to get you to say that a lot.”

“Yes, sir.”

He narrowed his gaze on me as he slipped me into his bed. I laughed, utterly content, as he slid in underneath the covers with me. I curled onto my side, and he spooned his body around mine, the warmth and luxury of it feeling like heaven.

My eyelids were already drooping when I said, “We need to talk about the werewolf issue.”

“Tomorrow.” He kissed the crown of my head, banding my waist and pulling me flush to him. “It’ll wait.”

“’Kay.” I yawned again. “Night, Nico. I love you.”

Funny how easy it was and how natural it felt slipping from my mouth now. A heartbeat passed. And another. A heavy sigh huffed against the back of my neck as he nuzzled into my hair.

“I love you, too.”

Then I fell into the most blissful sleep of my whole life.