Their Father Called Me Family, So His Four Sons Made Me Theirs novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: G

Nico kissed me against his own front door, and then he stopped and said my name, and then he started again.

He had been shy for thirty-one years.

It went out of him the moment the lock clicked.

His hands were in my hair, and his glasses were crooked.

He kissed me so thoroughly that I forgot the heat outside and the whole long day.

"I rehearsed this," he said against my mouth. "In the car. All the way here."

"What did you rehearse?"

"I don't remember any of it."

I laughed, and he kissed the laugh.

His townhouse smelled of paper and lemon soap.

There was a piano in the front room that he never played and a desk under the window with a single lamp burning on it.

A green ledger lay open on the blotter.

The single gold letter stamped on its spine was G.

I saw it over his shoulder as he walked me backward through the room.

"What's that?"

"Old family accounts." He reached out and closed it, gently, as he passed. "It's very boring. Come here."

I came.

He took my hand and led me down a short hall.

His bedroom had a low bed with white sheets and a lamp on each side.

He turned both lamps on.

"Lights," I said.

"If you want them off, I'll-"

"I want them on."

"Oh," Nico said. "Good. I wanted to see you."

He stood in front of me and found the zipper of my dress with trembling fingers.

I put my hands over his and helped him.

The dress slid down to my hips, and he drew a ragged breath.

He undid my bra himself, with an effort of attention that made me ache.

When it fell, he looked at me with his whole face.

"Gem," he said, almost to himself. "God. You're so much better than I thought."

"You thought about it?"

"All the time. I have a ridiculous imagination."

I started on his shirt.

He blushed all the way to his collarbone, the color running down his chest as the buttons opened.

I put my mouth on the warm skin over his heart.

His whole body shuddered.

"You're allowed to touch me," I said.

"I know."

"So touch me."

He did.

His hands were careful at first, tracing my ribs, the curve of my hip, cupping my breasts gently.

I arched into them, and his breath came out unsteady.

"More?" he asked.

"More."

He laid me back on the white sheets and took off the rest of my clothes slowly, one piece at a time.

He kissed the inside of my knee.

He kissed my hip bone, my stomach, the place under my navel.

When his mouth touched the top of my thigh, I was already panting.

"I want to learn you," he said. "Tell me what you like."

"Everything you do."

"That's not very helpful," he said.

"Nico."

"Sorry. Sorry."

He slid a hand between my legs and found me wet, and his eyes closed.

"Oh, fuck," he said quietly, and I had never heard him swear before.

I moaned.

He stroked me with two fingers, light, circling, and watched my face for every change.

When I gasped he did it again, and again, until I was lifting into his palm.

"There," I said. "There. Just like that."

"You told me something once," he said, working me slowly. "Do you remember?"

"Nico, I can't think," I said.

"Two summers ago. On the pool step, at two in the morning."

"What did I say?"

"You said," he told me, "you were afraid you'd die in that cottage still waiting for something."

My eyes opened.

"I never told anyone," he said. "I've never told anyone anything you ever told me. Not Marco, not Dario."

I could not speak.

He leaned down and kissed me, soft and open, and his fingers curled inside me.

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