"No, of course I don't. I'd risk my life and a two-year operation for just anybody."
She kissed him softly and snuggled against him, not saying a word. His Goth girl, so in-your-face, was uncomfortable talking about feelings. He wasn't really good at it either, but God, she was much worse. She wouldn't discuss having a relationship with him without making a pros and cons list first. It didn't matter. If he excelled at anything, it was reading people.
Nico watched Paige sleep, luxuriating in the feeling of having her wrapped around him, rosy and agreeable, his cum dripping from her. She wasn't going to leave. Or hide. He knew what he had to do.
* * * *
Paige woke up late and alone.
Nico was gone. Must have been dick talk after all. Not that she regretted a second of their time together.
She closed her legs and noticed she was wet. He'd cleaned her, but she could smell his cum on her. Feel it too. His knuckle-dragging, Neanderthal demands about exclusivity and taking his cum had worked for her. Her liberated feminine side-which should have been appalled-had not only remained silent, but had melted in a pool of politically incorrect shivers, letting him fuck her left, right, and sideways.
Until he'd opened up and confided in her about his mother. Paige's chest still hurt at Nico's revelations. She'd wanted nothing more than to crawl into his lap and hug the little child inside him. Protect him from everything. Soothe him. But Nico wasn't a child anymore. He was a very capable man, extremely focused on protecting everyone except himself. And that's why there wasn't a way for Paige and Nico to have a relationship. Sex was the only viable thing on the table. She'd always known it, but now, after finding out the reason behind Nico's single-minded obsession to take down the cartel, it was crystal clear. There was no place for anything else in his life.
Paige noticed her phone was blinking with an incoming message from an unknown number.
Miss you already.
She smiled. Nico's new number, she guessed.
He might want a relationship with her, but his definition of one was much different from hers. Secret dates and hot sex, no matter how frequent, weren't a relationship. She did love him, and she didn't doubt for a second he loved her too, but what he wanted to offer her and what he could were two very different things. That was why she'd held off telling him about her feelings, why she'd joked around the issue, why she kept silent. Because she didn't want to complicate matters further. He was in a very dangerous situation and needed all his wits about him to make it out alive, not wasting time thinking about her. If holding off and cooling things down would help keep him alive, so be it.
After saving his number, she headed for the bathroom.
As she passed the mirror, the tips of her hair caught her eye.
Oh, boy. That dye hadn't been electric blue after all.
* * * *
"It looks cool. In a disturbingly weird way," Tate said as they were walking from the beach after the wedding rehearsal.
Paige nodded, holding one strand of hair out. It was neon green on the tips, and the rest was platinum. "Kind of punky with Goth clothes. Actually, this style has a name: cyber Goth. I just need dreadlocks, platform shoes, and some futuristic plastic clothes."
"Oh, like the Wraith, you mean?" Christy asked.
"Exactly like them." The baddies from Stargate Atlantis had nothing on her.
Tate and Elle frowned, but Annie came to their aid. "It's a geek thing."
"I'm feeling jealous," Elle said. "I might speak with Violet and do something with my hair."
"You could braid it the way you were wearing it when you hooked up with Jack," Tate suggested.
"Nah, Jack hates that. I'd rather have him in a good mood when I marry him."
"He's never in a good mood."
"Oh, he is. Every morning." Elle smiled mischievously. "Then the world intrudes, and everything goes south."
"To me, he seems very agreeable all the time. Surprisingly so," Tate said. "He hasn't barked at the grandmas yet. This morning, during the fitting, he agreed to wear the white pants and shirt, and he didn't blink when Rita opened one extra button, leaving half his chest bare."
The girls giggled.
Jack indeed had not said a word, but his expression had spoken loud and clear. Then of course Elle had come to his rescue, all tanned, wearing the skimpiest of body-hugging sundresses, her long black hair flowing over her shoulders. As far as Paige could tell, every thought of shirt buttons had flown out of Jack's head, along with every other aggravation inflicted by the grandmas.
"Rita can be extremely convincing," Paige said.
"You don't say," Ronnie interjected. "She got you drunk." At Paige's surprised look, she added, "What? Kai and I saw you stumbling back to your condo in the wee hours."