Chapter 88 New Meeting
Lila POV
His fingertips drifted over my skin igniting heat everywhere he touched and each stroke felt like a spark, slow and consuming, as though the fire he created was not only beneath my flesh but somewhere deeper, somewhere that reached my soul.
We did not speak but the quietness between us did not feel heavy for those stolen minutes, everything between us seemed right or once, it felt as though he had loosened the firm grip of dominance he had always held over me. As if he had laid it down at my feet.
He was still who he was and I knew that. As long as we were together, he would always be my dominant, my master, my king and I would not wish it any other way but in that moment, on his knees before me, there was something else. A silent confession that a part of him bent toward me that a part of him needed me.
A man like Nico, raw and ruthless, driven by instinct and control, would never kneel for just anyone. He would never bow his head unless the person standing before him truly mattered.
And I mattered, his hands slid higher along my leg, leaving warmth in their wake. He gently set one of my feet down before wrapping his fingers around my other ankle. I closed my eyes as he slipped the shoe onto my foot, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin along my calf. His touch did not rush. Climbed slowly upward along the inside of my leg.
He had not yet reached the place that throbbed with anticipation, yet my body reacted as though he already had. My breath turned shallow. My thighs trembled. It felt as though invisible fingers traced between my legs, coaxing soft cries from deep within me. He remained on his knees, and the sight alone made me feel powerful, cherished, revered. Like a queen whose throne was built from his submission.
He had once told me that some truths could not be spoken. That certain emotions were shown, not said. Now I understood. This simple act spoke louder than any declaration ever could.
The faintest brush of his fingers grazed my most sensitive flesh, and a broken moan slipped from my lips. My head fell back, exposing my throat as pleasure coursed through me.
I had not realized he had risen until his mouth pressed a slow, tender kiss against my shoulder.
A deep growl vibrated in his chest. His hand moved between my legs, gripping me firmly, possessively.
One finger slid inside me, and my body arched toward him, welcoming the intrusion with a helpless sound. “Because a devil like me would twist those words,” he said, his voice rough. “I would use them to justify the claim I have made over you a claim taken without your consent.”
His finger moved slowly, pressing deeper, stretching me, drawing out every shuddering breath. I clutched his shoulders as my knees weakened. “No,” I breathed. “You have taken nothing without my consent.” I leaned closer, my lips brushing his ear. “I give it freely.”
He pulled me flush against him, adding another finger, thrusting with a rhythm that sent waves of heat crashing through my body. My breaths came in desperate bursts. I could feel the solid press of him against my hip, hard and insistent, making me ache for more.
Then suddenly he withdrew, leaving my body empty and throbbing. A frustrated cry tore from my lips at the loss he seized my face in his hand, gripping firmly and my desire glistened on his fingers, and even I could smell the sweet proof of how undone I was.
“You will be the death of me,” he growled. His jaw tightened, teeth clenched his eyes were dark with conflict anger because I had nearly shattered his control. Hunger because he wanted me to.
He dragged one damp finger across my lips. I tasted myself,tasted how deeply I craved a man who had once imagined my destruction.
“Tonight,” he said softly, dangerously, “I will not give you what you want. Tonight, little pet, I will take what I need.”
Later, when we stepped onto the deck together, the shift was immediate. Conversations faltered and eyes turned toward us. The only familiar faces in the crowd were the new Doc and Uncle Lucas. Doc met my gaze briefly, and something unspoken passed between us. My stomach tightened because he had to keep my secret.
Nico held my hand as we moved through the guests standing beside him felt different tonight. I felt composed, elegant and worthy. The stares directed at us, at me, were not filled with contempt as I had grown used to within the family. Instead there was respect and recognition.
For the first time, I did not feel like an outsider.
He paused at a table lined with glasses of champagne and handed one to me. “Here.”
“Thank you,” I replied, accepting it carefully.
My free hand drifted to my stomach. If I refused the drink, he would notice, he always noticed everything. I raised the glass to my lips and turned slightly away, pretending to admire the view while ensuring the champagne barely touched my mouth. “It is beautiful out here,” I said, gazing over the gardens.
He stepped behind me, his chest close enough to warm my back the proximity alone sent a shiver down my spine.
“indeed, Uncle Lucas wife, designed these gardens,” he said. “She has a gift. You will meet her tonight.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “May I walk through them?”
A faint smile touched his lips as he gestured toward the steps. I descended the pebble lined path, aware of him following close behind. The garden unfolded around me in breathtaking color. White magnolias bloomed beside vibrant birds of paradise. Dahlias in shades of orange and gold swayed gently in the evening air. The scent of orchids drifted toward me before I even spotted their delicate petals.
For a moment, I forgot everything else. I stepped into a world untouched by cruelty or greed. As an artist, I did not simply see flowers. I saw emotion. Each hue carried feeling. Each curve of a petal whispered a story. It was pure. Serene.
His hand settled at the small of my back, grounding me. “It is remarkable,” he said quietly, “watching you disappear into your own world.”
I looked up at him. “Are you not standing in it with me right now?”
His gaze shifted to the horizon. “My world has been black and gray for a long time, little pe.”
I studied him, this man who carried darkness like a second skin. “It is not too late to open your eyes to something brighter.”
He looked down at me, his expression thoughtful, guarded.
“Maybe,” he said.