Bad Idea- The Complete Collection

by Nicole French

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper.

  Nico’s eyes pop open, dazed, as if he’s not sure I said what I said.

  “Please,” I add for good measure.

  “Thank fucking God,” he exhales deeply.

  And then he collapses forward with another kiss as deep and penetrating as mine was light and tentative. Keeping his mouth firmly fused to mine, he rolls to his side in order to have better access to the rest of my body. My hands tug at his hair, leaving the rest of me open for his exploring fingers. And explore they do. His free hand travels down the front of my body, tracing its former path between my breasts and ribs, dipping into my belly button and then finally slipping under the fabric of my panties.

  “I like these,” he says, low and fierce as his lips feather down my neck.

  I just whimper as his fingers continue their quest, my breathing turned haggard with need. He’s gentle, mapping the terrain by touch, investigating the soft skin and hair in order to locate the most sensitive spot on my body. When I quiver, he lingers; when I shake, he looks elsewhere. His finger toys with my damp entrance as he hums low with anticipation.

  “What do you feel like here?” he wonders, his voice vibrating against my earlobe.

  I can’t answer, but it doesn’t matter. He bites the edge of my ear as his finger slides in, a delicate intrusion that has me gasping almost immediately.

  “You like that, baby?” he rumbles before seizing my ear and biting a little harder this time.

  The slight pain sends a direct bolt of pleasure to where his finger slips in and out of me a few more times. He adds a second finger and pushes them both in deeper. Inside me, they curl upward, finding contact with a cluster of nerves I didn’t even know existed. As he moves them again, finding a more consistent rhythm, I moan, loud and long.

  “Yesssss,” I hiss as my hips start to move in time with his hand, thrusting down to create even more of that delicious friction. It feels so good, almost more than I can take. If this is what he can do with just his hand, I’m almost scared to see what he can do with the rest of his body.

  His kisses flutter to my neck, over the tops of my breasts before he buries his face between them. The light scrape of his rough cheeks against the sensitive skin is almost enough to send me over alone—almost anything could push me over the edge with the way he’s fucking me with his hand. My moans have disappeared now, replaced by pants and squeaks as I grind harder. It’s coming, that familiar precipice I’m hurtling toward faster than ever before.

  Then, mimicking the painting in the bedroom next door, Nico’s teeth close over one lace-covered nipple. His thumb presses down on my clit while his fingers continue their onslaught. And I come with a long, loud shout. My entire body clenches and shakes around his fingers while they continue to thrust to some silent beat. He sucks at my breast, hard and unforgiving, helping me ride out my orgasm until it finishes its flight from my head to my toes.

  Just as the shaking starts to abate (but not completely), Nico pulls his hand out quickly, leaving me panting as he sits up and pulls off my panties with renewed urgency. His hand trails a thin, damp line down my thigh as he does; the sensation only turns me on again, even in my post-orgasmic haze. That’s me. That’s what he makes me do.

  “Now I want to feel you do that,” Nico growls, reaching into the small side table next to the futon where apparently he (or K.C.?) keeps a small stash of condoms. The foil rips, and I watch, practically salivating as he tugs down his briefs and rolls the condom over himself. He’s perfect, just like I knew he would be—not too big, not too small, the perfect extension of his already gorgeous body.

  Before I know it, he’s back on top of me, covering me again with that body, his cock teasing just where his hand was before. He sits up and pulls my legs around his hips. Then he grabs my ass with a satisfied grunt and angles me to receive him better.

  “Do you want this too?” he asks, teasing me a little more, forcing me to open to him like the petals of a flower.

  We both look down, transfixed by the sight of him rubbing up and down the sensitive juncture. I rock my hips, trying to sneak him inside, but he keeps teasing me. I whimper.

  “Tell me.” His deep voice is rough with want, and our bodies are slick where they meet. It’s cold outside, but very hot in this room. “Tell me what you want, Layla.”

  Again, my hips rock toward him, and again he evades my attempt to coerce him inside.

  “Tell me,” he orders again.

  “I-I want you,” I say in words that stutter, completely undone with frustration and desire. I still can’t think straight; anything my body is doing is out of instinct. “P-p-please.”

  “Yessssss,” Nico groans, and then slams into me so hard I yelp at the impact, grasping desperately at the sheets over my head for anything to help me bear it.

  He starts to move, slowly at first but eventually gaining a steady rhythm that reignites that familiar rising heat at my core. I raise my hips and start meeting him pound for pound. He’s starting to lose it too. The concentration on his face gradually gives way to raw, animal instinct as he closes his eyes and leans back, embracing the feeling of me, the feeling of us.

  “That’s it, baby,” he groans as he thrusts deeper, his hold on the backs of my thighs so tight it will probably leave bruises. I couldn’t care less. “Squeeze me tight. God, you feel so fucking good!”

  One of his hands finds my clit again, pinching it lightly between his thumb and forefinger as he continues with his merciless pace. My body starts to spasm all over again, and I pray he’s not going to stop this time before I’m completely done.

  “Please, Nico,” I whimper, totally helpless as I climb higher and higher.

  “That’s right, baby,” he growls. “Go ahead. Let me feel it!”

  Tremors shoot up and down every limb, every bone, every nerve in my body. Nico stills as I clench around him, crying out my second orgasm of the night in moans that must penetrate the soundproofed walls around us. How could they not? Everything he’s doing has me in pieces. Then he moves again, and I open my eyes just in time to see him shut his eyes tightly as he falls apart, collapsing over me as his control shatters, right along with mine.

  We lie here for some uncountable time after, crumpled atop the mangled sheets as we catch our breath and find our senses again. Eventually, Nico staggers away to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth that he presses gently between my legs. In some ways, it’s a more intimate gesture than being inside me; I stay perfectly still until he’s finished. It never would have occurred to Teddy, despite his wealthy Connecticut upbringing and pretensions, to take care of me this way. It’s yet another barrier that Nico dismantles with every kind, thoughtful gesture.

  I sigh as he slides us both under the covers and gathers me against him.

  “Thank you for that,” he whispers against my ear. “You really are incredible, you know that?”

  Another kind of heat glows in my chest, but this one has nothing to do with sex. I sigh again, blissfully content. His breath is warm against my neck, and his body is strong and solid wrapped around mine. I feel precious and protected. Like nothing bad could ever happen to me here with him.

  “Did you want me too?” I wonder sleepily, the post-sex haze hitting me hard as my eyelids involuntarily flutter closed.

  Nico hugs me closer, draping one heavy leg over mine and slipping a lean, muscled arm around my waist so he is curved completely around the back of my body. He fits there. We fit, like two crooked pieces of the crazy jigsaw puzzle of this city, with its eight million other parts.

  He yawns and drops butterfly kisses over the edge of my ear and the spot on my neck just behind it.

  “Layla, I wanted you the second I saw you sitting behind that desk.” He burrows his head into my neck. “I knew you’d taste sweet, baby, and I was right.”

  I sigh one last time with utter and complete satiety as the room falls dark, and we both succumb to sleep.
/>   Chapter Eighteen

  Layla

  Sometime the next morning I wake up with a stale taste in my mouth, feeling like my head is being squeezed tightly in a vise. K.C.’s recording studio has no windows, so the only light filtering into the room comes from the tiny crack at the bottom of the door. I reach a lazy arm to my side, where Nico spent the night curled around my body like a clamshell, but I only find rumpled sheets. He is nowhere to be found.

  Cautiously, I slide out from under the twisted mess of sheets and comforter and attempt to stand up. I crouch awkwardly and feel around the floor for my clothes—or at least something to drape around my naked body. The movements make me wince slightly and remind me of what happened on this futon.

  My night passed blissfully, if not quite restfully, considering I was woken up two more times by prowling fingers and inquisitive lips looking to explore just about every surface of my body. Nico’s got stamina far beyond mine—I feel like a wrung-out sponge. But even in my half-asleep state, I couldn’t say no to him, which is why I’m now sore all over. Wincing again, I reach around the padded walls for the light switch, taking care to avoid the places where I think the drums and guitars are set up near the door.

  “Ow! Shit!” I yelp as I step on the sharp edge of a soundboard. I hop in the direction of the door, find the switch, and rescue myself from the dark.

  After I pull on the leggings and tank top I brought with me, I pad down the hall to the bathroom. I splash water over my face and brush my teeth, eager to cleanse the residue of sleep. I didn’t drink anything last night, but my face feels hot and cloudy, like I’m hungover. I throw another splash of cold water over it, then tie my hair up in a messy knot on top of my head. There: comfortable, yet effortlessly sexy. At least, that’s what I’m going for, even if I’m not quite feeling that way. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?

  I’m drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee and find Nico setting donuts on a plate, wearing nothing but his jeans. They hang slightly loose on his hips, revealing the mouth-watering contours of the muscles that dip below his waistband, under which he’s obviously got nothing else on. A small bouquet of tulips is arranged in a vase on the kitchen table—purple, my favorite color. I wonder if he figured that out from the color of my bedspread at the dorms. My body starts humming again at the sight of his smooth, broad back. He turns around and smiles. The hum intensifies.

  “Hey, good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” He places a final donut on the plate and comes over to smack a kiss on my lips. “How you feeling?”

  I smile up at him. “Pretty good. Ah, a bit worn out.”

  That earns me a devilish grin—he knows exactly why I’m worn out. “What can I say, baby? You’re irresistible. Plus, I don’t remember a whole lot of complaining.”

  I duck my head into his bare chest as a tell-tale blush rises up my neck. No, I definitely didn’t complain at all. In fact, contrary to what my sore parts are telling me, I want more. So much more.

  But instead of saying so, I focus on the plate of pastries and the smell of coffee, hopping up onto the counter next to him. Nico steps easily between my knees and delivers another sweet kiss, tasting a little of fresh donuts and cinnamon.

  “Mmm,” he vibrates against my lips. “That’s what I want for breakfast.”

  I giggle into his kiss. “Maybe. But those donuts look good too. Where did you get them?”

  He picks up an apple fritter and splits it in half, holding one out to me and taking a bite of the other. “I ran out while you were sleeping and picked them up from the shop a few blocks away.”

  “Like that?” I nod at his bare chest as I accept the donut and take a bite.

  He looks down at his shirtless form and back up to me somewhat sheepishly. “Well, I did wear a coat and shoes. But I couldn’t find my shirt anywhere, and I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so cute with your head buried under the pillows.”

  I stifle my laugh with another bite of fritter. I wonder if his coat was open or closed. The fine folks at the donut shop must have gotten quite an eyeful.

  “Do you work out?” I ask suddenly.

  Some people are lucky enough to look like models without doing much, but I doubt he has a six-pack just from pushing boxes all day long.

  Nico laughs. “Other than my job, you mean? Um, yeah, I do. I mean, I try.”

  “What do you do?”

  He smirks. “There’s a boxing gym around the corner from my mom’s place. Sometimes I’ll go and mess around. Been doing it since I was in—um, since I was a teenager.”

  I lean back a little, looking him over. Another component of Nico’s personality emerges. His physique starts to make sense—he’s definitely built like a boxer.

  “Did you ever compete?” I ask.

  He tips his head back and laughs. “Fuck, no. I wanted to keep my teeth and my brain cells. But I like the training. Sometimes it feels good just to take your frustrations out on a heavy bag. Living in this city…”

  He trails off, suddenly struck by some unknown specter from his past. His face darkens. I desperately want to know what he’s thinking about, but I don’t want to pry.

  So I’m a little disappointed when he slips away to grab two coffee cups from one of the cabinets. “You like cream and sugar in your coffee, baby?”

  “Yes, please,” I say, and tell him when to stop as he doctors up my cup. I inhale and take a long sip. “God, that’s good.”

  It’s utter ambrosia to my woozy head, and my stomach growls in response, eager for sustenance after a long night of activity. I scarf down the rest of my fritter and reach to the plate beside me for one of the chocolate donuts.

  “Yum,” Nico concurs as he picks up his second donut as well. “God, I’m going to miss this in LA.”

  “You’re going to LA?” I break off a piece of donut and toss it in my mouth. “That sounds fun. When?”

  His head snaps up, and I find him staring at me like he’s just ran over my new puppy and is afraid to tell me. The light of the morning seeps out of the room, and the hunger in my stomach turns to a giant ball of dread. Bad news.

  Nico

  I can’t believe I did that. I mean, I can’t fucking believe I just did that. I had a plan for how to tell her. I woke up this morning, tossed and turned about the fact that I’d let things get as far as they did without telling her the truth. I stole out this morning, not even bothering to find my shirt, even though it’s fuckin’ twenty-eight degrees outside. Left her in the bed, sleeping like a damn angel, and crept out like the thief I am when it was still practically dark to get donuts and coffee. I practiced what I was going to say the entire way there and the entire way back.

  And all for what? So she can think I’m an asshole just using her for sex? Waiting until I fucked her until I mentioned offhand that I’m out of here?

  I am a fuckin’ asshole. She’s going to hate me. Fuck, I hate me right now.

  “I, uh, shit, baby.” I stumble over my words like I’ve got a sudden speech impediment. Shit. Shit, shit, motherfucking shit.

  Suddenly the donuts are all in the wrong places on the plate, and I have to rearrange them. Layla watches until I’m done and crosses her arms while I brush my hands off on my jeans. I don’t know where the fuck to put them—I hook my thumbs in my belt loops, but that just makes me feel like Fonzi. So I fold my arms over my chest, even though that probably makes me look even more like a bouncer.

  No, I think. You look like an asshole.

  “I meant to tell you…I didn’t want to spoil things…but, Layla…”

  She’s watching me, her big blue eyes already full of mixed emotions: regret, fear, frustration, and that hint of desire that never seems to go away. I know, baby. I feel it too. Fuck, looking at her in a thin white tank that’s clinging to everything, I’m feeling it coming like a freight train.

  Just say it, you mother. Fucking. Pussy.

  “I’m moving to LA in May.” The words burn, just like I knew they would. “K.C. knows som
e people out there; he hooked me up with a job doing security for one of the clubs where he just got a job. It’s been in the works for a while...but he just found out that it’s a done deal. So…yeah. I’m going.”

  She drops the donut she’s holding on the counter, and the dread in my belly turns much darker. Shit. Fuck, fuck, shit. I was right. This meant something more to her, maybe as much as it has to me. All sorts of emotions filter across her beautiful face: frustration, sadness, which eventually morphs into anger.

  I should have just stayed the fuck away.

  “You knew this,” she says, horrified. The tension in her voice is already tightening, like a rubber band ready to snap. “You knew you were leaving in a couple of months, and you—”

  She mashes her lips together, and I know what she’s thinking. We didn’t make love last night, but we weren’t exactly fucking. Not the first time, and not the second or third either. But whatever it was, it was a fuck lot more than just a good time.

  “—did that to me anyway,” she continues. “Tell me all this stuff about how much you wanted me, you touch me and kiss me like you want us to be lovers, bring me fucking breakfast in the morning!”

  The rubber band snaps. Suddenly, she’s gesturing wildly to the set up in the kitchen with the food and the flowers, her hands flailing around and threatening to knock the coffee mugs off the counter. She hops off the counter and starts pacing angrily around the kitchen. I stay perfectly still. If she’s anything like my sisters, one wrong move, and the whole place will get smashed.

  “Layla.”

  I’m a statue. I keep my voice low, calm, and begging for her to look at me, even though my insides are completely twisted up.

  Layla whirls around and glares.

  “So that’s it?” she demands, trying and failing to keep the shake out of her voice. The sound makes my heart jump. “Was this all some ploy to nail some college chick? Was this your plan all along, to tell me how special I am, fuck me, make me fall in—fall into bed with you, all the while you’re secretly planning to run off to fucking California?!”