The Sweetest Oblivion (Made, #1)(75)

After that, he’d hardly said a word to me. During his silence, I realized I liked his voice. I wanted to know what he would say. There were whole sentences in that head just waiting to be drawled, and I wanted every one of them. I couldn’t and wouldn’t analyze why.

The quiet, the pressure between my legs, they started to build until I had to break the tension.

“How fast does this thing go?” I asked.

His head tilted to the side, catching my gaze. He held it for a moment before turning back to the road. “Fast.”

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to think of how to respond. What I came up with was, “How fast?”

He didn’t glance at me, but a small smile appeared.

“Show me.” It escaped my lips on a breath, quiet and suggestive.

“No.”

I raised a brow. “Why? Are you scared?”

He flicked a gaze to me. Darkness glinted behind an ounce of amusement. “Scared and reckless are two different things.”

I didn’t know why considering it didn’t help my case, but it was a relief he’d said that. I had a rash brother—I didn’t want a similar husband. However, I wasn’t ready to give up yet; his attention had sparked a thrill inside of me.

“Are you saying you’ve never shown off with a woman in the car before?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So, you have?”

“When I was sixteen, probably.”

That was a long time ago, yet I couldn’t stop a sliver of envy from finding its way to me. What girl was important enough to him that he’d shown off to impress her? I shook it off. “I’m marrying a Russo. Don’t you think I should know what it’s like before it’s too late?”

The glance he cast my way was nothing but heat. “It’s already too late.”

My pulse fluttered, but I forced a sigh. “It’s okay. If you’re scared—”

He shook his head before the car accelerated so fast I fell against my seat. A laugh escaped my lips, yet his only response was a look in my direction, a spark passing through his eyes. I watched the odometer hit 90 . . . 100 . . . 110.

Nico drove like he would if he were going a mere sixty mph: relaxed, not conveying an ounce of emotion. Adrenaline surged and fizzled through my veins. He hit 120 before he had to slow for our exit.

High on lust and life and speed, I rolled down my window and let the warm air brush my cheeks. We pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later, and I couldn’t exactly say it felt like home yet, but something about it did feel right.

The adrenaline had faded to chugging along, like a train running out of fuel. It left a hot and cold sensation under my skin, nerves thriving in the atmosphere.

He turned the ignition off, and the soft pops and crackles of a hot engine filtered into the car through the open window. Hot urban air, silver moonlight, and a heavy tension settled in the space between us. My breaths were labored, each second feeling like a pregnant pause.

I was sure the truth was as clear as the sounds of the ball game escaping the neighbor’s window. That I wanted this man. Every time I was near him I lost all poise and control. What scared me the most was that I didn’t want control, I wanted him to have it all. I wanted to experience what I was sure a hundred other girls had, no matter that the thought made me burn with jealousy.

He must have known all of this, but I wasn’t so sure he shared the same sentiment.

I was a convenience.

His second choice.

It took a moment to realize Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck played on the radio. The song was far from romantic, but it was rough and compelling, like the man beside me. It was the song I’d kissed him to. Someone might as well have yelled it into the car, as aware of it as we suddenly were.

I opened my door an inch so the radio would shut off, but I didn’t get out. Something pounded in my chest. An unfulfilled need that felt close to bursting. My palms grew clammy.

“Nico—”

His hand came toward my face and my words caught in my throat. As if my body expected a blow, a breath escaped me when his thumb brushed across my lips and down my chin. “Go inside. I have some things to do out here.”

The truth was, I hadn’t exactly figured out what I would say, and for that reason I was glad he’d stopped me. But as I made my way inside, a heavy weight that felt too much like rejection settled in my chest.

Once I was inside my room, I slipped into my Yankees t-shirt. My body thrummed with indecision, my heart beating with a speed that made me feel alive. I sat in the seat below the window and stared through the glass, at the light underneath the garage door.

I fell asleep before I ever heard the creak of the stairs.





A crick in my neck ached as I awoke curled up on the window seat. Sunlight filtered into the room in rays, lighting dust particles in the air. My mouth watered as the smell of bacon reached my nose. I wondered if Nico’s cook was here, though it was Sunday and she wasn’t due until tomorrow.

Not fully awake, I made my way into the hallway bathroom, combed my hair, and brushed my teeth. Maybe I should’ve put on a little makeup now that I had a fiancé I could run into at any moment, but truthfully, I’d never cared much for the stuff.

I padded toward the smell of bacon, and then stopped short at the base of the stairs. Heat curled in my stomach and drifted through my body in one smooth sweep. My heartbeat settled between my legs. A pan was cooking on the stove, but I hardly had a sexual fetish for food. That I knew of, anyway. I’d seldom seen this man out of a suit and tie. Now that he stood at the island without a single stitch on his upper half, it was a shock to my nervous system.