She had shed clothes. She remembered that, offering him everything. Wanting him with every breath she took. She needed him to erase everything that had gone before. His mouth had done that, so hot, so strong, she hadn’t known her body could feel that way just with his mouth on her breast. His fingers on her nipple, his hair brushing over her skin. The way the bristles on his jaw rubbed along the curves of her breasts. She’d had the marks of that stubble, his teeth and fingers, for a night and a day, and she wanted them forever.
“It means I can still taste you. I go to bed with your taste on my tongue and wake up with it there. I ache thinking about you. It means you aren’t safe forever, so you’d best have your fun with your friends while you can, because you aren’t a child anymore.”
It was a declaration. A challenge. Maybe even a throwing down of a gauntlet. Nicoletta drew back in her seat, uncertain how to react. It was the last thing she expected him to say. He meant it, too. Taviano didn’t say things he didn’t mean. His blue eyes glittered at her until she held her breath, afraid of moving.
She sat for a long time trying to figure out what she was going to do. If Taviano really persisted in attempting to seduce her, he wouldn’t have to try too hard. She knew that. How could she ever forget what it felt like with his mouth on her? Traveling down her body? His tongue on her skin? His lips worshiping her? Then moving up between her thighs so slowly she wanted to scream. Nothing had ever prepared her for such a thing. She had no idea sex could make her body feel so good.
Then he had abruptly stopped. He’d pulled away, cursing. She’d chased after him, hands on his trousers, feeling his thick arousal, tugging on his zipper, desperate and determined to get at him. His hands had caught at her wrists and stopped her, pulling her off him. The moment he’d let go of her, she’d been back, knowing he was aroused, knowing he couldn’t hide that he wanted her. She’d known what she could do, that he wouldn’t be able to stop once she had her mouth on him, but he’d been furious with her, once again stopping her, giving her a little shake.
They’d exchanged words. Her taunting, trying to tempt him, using her body shamelessly, pointing out that he wanted her, trying to get to him with how good she could make him feel with her mouth, with her body. He had tried to stop her. Looking back, she was utterly humiliated remembering just how often, just how he had tried to dress her himself, the different ways he’d tried to defuse the situation between them.
She’d been so hurt and angry and drunk that she’d continued to escalate it. She could barely make herself face the things she’d said and done that night until he’d suddenly dragged her naked body right over his lap and delivered a spanking onto her bare bottom. It should have reduced her to a child. It should have humiliated her beyond reason. The last thing it should have been was erotic, and it had made her want to weep with need.
Taviano caught her chin in his hand. “You have to stop. If you don’t, you’re going to give me no choice but to shock your friends. I promised myself I’d wait until you turned twenty-one, and that’s in a few more weeks. I already know that’s too damned far away.”
She wasn’t about to ask him what that meant, either. She simply nodded to indicate she’d do her best to forget that horrible night ever happened, but she knew she never would. She thought of it every single day. It had been the catalyst for her to change her life. To want to make something of herself. She had given up drinking and trying to hurt herself for things in her past she hadn’t been able to control. She decided to control herself and take responsibility for herself at least.
She wanted to protect Lucia and Amo and make certain they were never harmed. She knew she could never have Taviano Ferraro, but she could take advantage of the hand the Ferraro family held out to her and the education they were offering. She was intelligent and learned quickly, and she pushed herself from that day forward. All of the Ferraros helped her. Taviano was around, because the family was very close. She avoided him as best she could, and he seemed to avoid her, which was helpful when she didn’t know how to act around him.
She searched for a safe topic. “How is Cristo?”
Taviano laughed softly. “I’m not going to let you be a coward forever, Nicoletta, but any time we can talk about my nephew, I’m all for it. And Crispino is doing quite well, as you should know, since you watch him for Francesca every chance you get.”
“I love all that curly hair he has. It’s so beautiful,” Nicoletta said. She did. Francesca told her that the moment Stefano saw his son born with thick black curls all over his head, he immediately named him Crispino. His uncles and Emmanuelle, his aunt, adored him, and all of them spoiled him, but Nicoletta was determined she was going to be the favorite. He was the sweetest boy ever.
“It’s good that you spend so much time with him,” Taviano said.
“Francesca needed a lot of help after he was born,” Nicoletta said, “and I was there with Mariko and Emmanuelle, working on self-defense. It was natural to help her with the baby. There’s no way not to fall in love with him. He’s just so adorable. I’m there nearly every day.”
It was a silly thing to say. Taviano would have that information. She might work at Lucia’s Treasures for her foster parents and also at the flower shop occasionally, but she never missed a lesson in self-defense. She took her training very seriously and studied with one of the women or one of Taviano’s brothers. They weren’t easy on her, either. She went home with bruises, and every muscle in her body aching, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be as good as they were—which seemed unattainable, but that didn’t deter her from trying. Everyone had to start somewhere.
She recognized she was fast. Very fast. She had good hand-eye coordination. She could hit hard and accurately, the same with kicking. She picked up the techniques they taught her quickly and was always thirsty for more. She didn’t want praise—she wanted critiques that would make her better. She never wanted to be a victim again. Never. She was determined to learn to turn her mind and body into the best weapons possible to defend herself and others if needed.
“He’s already got Stefano wrapped around his little finger,” Taviano pointed out. “That little boy is going to rule us all.”
Nicoletta laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Taviano sounded so rueful and he looked so handsome, with his dark hair spilling across his forehead and his blue eyes mournful, as if all of them loving his nephew so much they could never speak harshly to him was a bad thing. Not a single Ferraro raised their voice to Crispino. The child was told “no” when he was too adventurous and might have gotten into something that could harm him, but the “no” was never delivered in a harsh manner, and he was removed gently if he refused to obey.
Nicoletta followed the lead of the Ferraro family when she watched the boy, treating him exactly the same and sometimes dancing him to sleep or cuddling him longer than necessary just because she needed it more than he did. Often Lucia and Amo would come over just to hold the boy as well. They loved watching him grow.
“I was astonished at how quickly he grew in weeks and months, from rolling over to crawling and sitting and then standing. Sometimes I think I was less prepared than Francesca and Stefano,” Nicoletta admitted to Taviano. “He would cuddle with me at night, and I just felt this amazing closeness with him. He made my heart feel so—” She broke off, feeling silly again.