Chapter 55: Waiver
"Deal," I responded, and the word had barely settled between us before everything shifted.
His hand came up to the back of my head, firm but not rough, guiding me forward. There was something deliberate about it—like he had been waiting for that exact moment, waiting for me to agree so he could close the distance without hesitation. I knew, distantly, that I could pull away if I wanted to.
But I didn’t.
And that realization alone sent a quiet ripple through me.
It irritated me, how easily he’d set this up, how obvious it suddenly felt that this had been part of his plan all along. Yet at the same time, there was a strange satisfaction in it too. If this was a game, at least he wasn’t the only one playing and I got something out of the new deal.
His lips met mine with a confidence that left no room for second-guessing. It wasn’t hesitant or testing—it was certain. Like he already knew I wouldn’t stop him.
For a fraction of a second, I stayed still. Then I kissed him right back.
Not carefully, not cautiously—but with a kind of eagerness I refused to examine too closely. It was easier to lean into the moment than to question why I wanted it at all. My hands found their way to him almost instinctively, fingers brushing against fabric, grounding myself in something real.
He responded immediately, like he’d been waiting for that too.
The kiss deepened, slowed, then deepened again—unhurried but consuming. There was a rhythm to it, something steady and deliberate, as if he was taking his time rather than rushing through it. His grip shifted slightly, pulling me closer, closing any remaining space between us.
I could feel the warmth of him, the solid presence, the way he anchored me without forcing it. It was... disarming.
Annoyingly so.
My eyes fluttered open just slightly, enough to catch his gaze when our lips parted for the briefest moment. There was something in his expression—focused, intent—that made my chest tighten.
My heart was already racing, but under that look, it seemed to double. Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back.
The absence of contact was immediate and noticeable, leaving a strange sort of emptiness in its wake. I barely had time to process it before his hands shifted, sliding upward, pausing just enough to make me aware of them before continuing.
His gaze stayed on mine, sharp and searching, like he was waiting. Waiting for resistance.
Waiting for me to say something, to stop him, to break whatever this was.
I didn’t.
I knew I should. That would have been the sensible thing, the expected thing. But the words didn’t come, and neither did the instinct to move away. Instead, I stayed exactly where I was, letting the moment stretch.
Letting him continue.
There was a flicker of something in his expression—satisfaction, maybe—but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
The air between us felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken.
I let my top slip away, more aware of his attention than I wanted to admit. It wasn’t subtle, the way his gaze followed, the way it lingered. It should have made me uncomfortable.
It didn’t.
If anything, it made me more aware of myself—of the space between us, of the way his hand rested at my waist, of the quiet intensity in the room.
He pulled me closer again, slower this time, like he was giving me every chance to change my mind. His fingers traced lightly along my side, not hurried, not careless—just enough to leave a trail of awareness in their wake.
I lifted my gaze to meet his, holding it this time.
There was no mistaking what was there.
No hesitation.
His focus didn’t waver, even as his hands moved again, even as the distance between us shifted once more. There was something almost unfair about the way he looked at me—like he already knew the effect he was having.
Like he expected me to give in.
The thought made something stubborn rise in my chest, even as my body betrayed me by staying exactly where I was.
His touch slowed again, deliberate, controlled. Not rushed, not careless—just enough to keep me aware of every movement. It wasn’t overwhelming. If anything, it was the opposite.
Measured.
Intentional.
Like he was testing boundaries without crossing them.
When he guided me back slightly, it felt less like being pushed and more like being led. And I followed, even though I told myself I shouldn’t.
Even though I knew better.
His gaze didn’t leave mine, not for long. It was steady, searching, almost challenging in its own way. Like he was asking a question without actually saying it.
Are you going to stop me?
I didn’t.
Allowing my top to slide off my body baring the black underwear I wore under. Nico’s gaze on my skin felt heated as I felt his gaze fix on my breasts.
His arm still around my waist as he pulled me closer to him his fingers sliding against my bare skin as I raised my gaze up to meet his own.
The desire and lust that filled his gaze was enough for me to not doubt that indeed he wanted to fuck me. That much he couldn’t fake although it was clear that he wasn’t even trying to.
I felt his hands slide against the back of my bra and If I placed my hand against his chest I would have felt his heart racing under his chest, mine pounding just as hard as I felt him unclasp it with an expert’s ease.
Pulling my bra down as he pushed me down his gazs not once shifting from my skin as I watched him lower his head right down to my nipples. His gaze still held mine as I felt my cheeks turn red faster than I could stop it.
His tongue was gentle as I felt his slide his hands across my skin. It was immense as I felt him lower himself grabbing my hands to place them against his chest. "Are you simply going to lie there?" he asked words that sounded more like a challenge than anything else as I slid my hands gently across his skin.
