“Thirty-six years old, Papi,” Dani chimed in, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.
“I don’t care.” He looked at his wife, who was already wiping a tear from her cheek. “Anyway, your mommy and I made the same choice and look how great it turned out for us. I was worried about Dani going alone, but now I see her with Nico Donahue, and I feel okay. Not great.” They laughed. “But okay. Because I think she’s going with a good man who will take care of my baby girl. Can I trust you to do that, Nico?”
Dani froze. She looked from her father’s stare to Nico, who returned Andrew’s look calmly and seriously.
He reached for her hand and held it tight, then told her father, “I will, sir. I promise.”
Then he turned to her with a tender smile ghosting his lips, bent his head, and kissed her. It was a chaste peck, but those warm, soft lips on hers were enough to make Dani sizzle from head to toe. Their audience “awwed” like they were in a damned Hallmark movie.
Heart hammering, inundated with his scent, she was helpless not to stare into his eyes when he moved away. Then Nico was swarmed with pats on the back, hugs, kisses, the whole nine. But she was still on fire, suddenly full of lust and agitated by her own reaction.
This had to be the result of going without the touch of a man for over a year. One tiny tap and she was ready to rip her clothes off. Nico, on the other hand, didn’t seem affected by it in the slightest. He went to Andrew and received a one-armed hug and handshake combination, then headed for the front door.
“I’ll walk you out,” Dani announced, and he grinned at her, leading the way into the humid evening.
Outside, the night air didn’t do much to cool her heated cheeks. She still felt that barely-there press on her mouth. Under the old, ornate wrought-iron streetlamp, she stared up at him. She was at risk of drowning again in the sea-glass eyes that seemed to glow under the light.
“What did you just do?”
“I don’t know. What you asked me to?” he asked in puzzlement. “Meet your family and make them feel comfortable with you going to Italy with me.” He paused when Al and Rahim came down the steps of the brownstone, headed out to party on a Saturday night. They slapped his hand again and kept moving, heading for the subway. “Personally, I think I did a pretty good job.”
“Good? Nico, we’re supposed to be faking in front ofyourfamily, not mine,” she insisted in a soft yet fierce tone.
“Was it the kiss that bothered you?” he asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his khakis. His lips quirked into a grin. “Because you know that’s part of the act, right? We were gonna have to start practicing sometime.”
“It wasn’t the kiss. Well, it was, but you promised my father that you would take care of me over there when we both know that after the festival, we’re not seeing each other again. Why would you promise him that?” she asked.
Nico’s smile slipped. “You’re moving to a country you’ve never set foot in before, on your own. While we were playing dominoes, all he could talk about was how nervous he is for you. What I did was ease the mind of a man who needs to believe his daughter will be safe, whether you’re an adult or not. You’re welcome.” Nico turned to his car, then turned back to stare at her, his nostrils flared. “And about that kiss.”
Before she could move, before she could say anything else, Nico invaded her space, thrusting his hands into her hair and kissing her, hard this time, making her weaken against him. He slipped his tongue in her mouth and made her taste him. Bit her lip and sucked on it, groaning as if he was the one who’d been bitten.
“There,” he panted when he’d had enough, his fingertips trailing heat along her cheekbone. He tipped her face up to meet his once more for a final open-mouthed kiss, then stared at her lips with a crease between his brows as if it hurt to stop. “If you want to be mad about a kiss, well, I just gave you something to really be pissed about. I’ll see you at JFK.”
Stepping back, he pivoted, unlocked his car, and got in, giving her a final hungry stare, then turned on the ignition and took off. Dani stood watching his taillights recede as he drove down the block, laughing when a track by Nas boomed back in her direction from his speakers.
She stayed there for a long time, touching her kiss-swollen lips. She wondered how, if she could barely get through one night without wanting his hands on her, was she going to survive two weeks anywhere with that man and not want more?
ICE ICE BABY
NICO
John F. Kennedy International Airportwas busy at all times of day, but nighttime was thankfully quieter, slower. Nico was one of a very small number of passengers waiting at the gate for the red-eye to Rome. Leg jiggling while he scrolled through his newsfeed, he kept looking up to check and see if Daniela had gotten through expedited security that was afforded to first-class passengers. He wanted to wait for her outside the terminal, but she insisted he go ahead.
While he waited, he dug out his notepad—not the Daniela Grace, but the one in which he wrote down snippets of what might become poems. Curiously, the old desire to write had returned over the past month. That urge had been dead while he’d been with Tracy, who’d said it seemed “kinda effeminate.” Now, with no one there to care what he did, words flowed like rusty tap water, but it was getting easier every day.
He was too nervous to write anything, so he put the notepad away. Being honest with himself, he could hardly wait to see Dani. Those daily phone calls, seeing her face on the screen in video chats, had become the highlight of his entire day. If a day or a night passed where she couldn’t make it or couldn’t stay on longer than five minutes, he felt a strange agitation that only let up when they were speaking again.
And then there was that visit to her house last week, where he’d foolishly given in to the desire to kiss her. He’d promised not to go beyond their strictly platonic arrangement, and the first chance he’d gotten, he’d broken it.
Suddenly, he spotted her heading his way. As he watched her approach the waiting area, his heartbeat picked up its tempo at her wave and her smile. She pulled a rolling carryon bag, complete with a giant purse, a stuffed backpack, and, incongruously, a fuzzy pink neck pillow. As a professional, he noticed her hairstyle done in thick, neat cornrows going down her back. Whoever did it had done an awesome job. He was both sad and relieved the dark cloud of hair that had practically dared him to touch it during that visit to her house was contained.
Then he saw what she was wearing.
Goddammit. Leave it to Miss Touch Me and Die to show up for this night ride looking chic, laid-back, and quite the opposite of untouchable.
Dani wore a red velour tracksuit, the zipper of the jacket halfway down, revealing a white tank top and the mouthwatering half-moons of her jiggly tits. And that juicy ass, those thick thighs, were shaking with each step, hugged by the fabric of her pants. Thighs worth a bite or two. It would be all too easy to slip a hand down the waistband of pants like those and play with her pussy when the lights went out on the plane. She might need a little distraction if flying made her nervous. He was all heart, ready to help.
He needed to get those thoughts out of his head. Six months of blue balls were responsible for this wild attraction; that had to be all it was. Good thing sweatpants gave his traitorous swelling cock plenty of room to hide.
