Page 46 of Driven By Impulse

Nicco couldn’t help but grin, despite the absolute shitstorm they were in, because his entire relationship with Ash had been lived right on the line anyway, and because he definitely couldn’t stop himself, not even if Hanna walked right back through the front door.

Yeah, like that would stop either of us.

“I promise you, Sergeant…” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them that had felt so gaping a moment ago. “I am most definitely not soft.”

Heat built between them, not the kind of heat Niccolo had felt out on the balcony with Hanna, which had been adventure, exploration, possibility. Kissing Hanna had felt like jumping into the sea.

But Ash was Nicco’s oldest friend in the world, and maybe this thing that seemed to be simmering between them had been foretold a millennia ago, or maybe they were chipping away at happiness and connection anywhere they could find it, but the moments in the shower had been submission, sacrifice, a final giving into what could no longer be denied, even if it couldn’t yet be acknowledged.

“Maybe that’s something I need to…determine for myself,” Ash replied. He ran his gaze slowly down Nicco’s body, and Nicco didn’t care if this was some fucked up way for Ash to ride the adrenaline of his fight with Hanna or if it was his version of goodbye or whatever other what-ifs may have lay between them, because Ash’s gaze on him was incendiary, temptation and promise, the opening of the door that they had only just peeked behind the night before.

Then his eyes landed on Nicco’s swollen cock, pressing against the confines of his jeans, Ash let out a shaky breath, his words honest and gritty. “Fuck, Nic…”

Nicco swallowed, trying to resist the urge to grind against Ash, who now stood so very close to him, their air shared and crackling with electricity.

“That’s the general idea,” Nicco murmured. Perhaps it wasn’t like him, or maybe not like him in recent months, but he wanted to flirt, he wanted to push, to see how far Ash would let him go, all the while knowing he always had a safe place to land. “But…”

Ash nodded and took a step back, clearly aware that they both needed space to breathe. “But we have a rescue to attempt. Head in the game.”

Nicco nodded. “Head in the game.”

He needed to feel the cold mountain air on his skin, and he needed the ground beneath his feet, and he needed to know he wasn’t alone in the all-consuming lust he felt for the man before him. Just as his hand reached the doorknob, however, he paused.

“You should know, Ash. I’ve always thought you were a good man.”

Then he stepped outside, letting the door close behind him. He needed to clear his head, of the jealousy and confusion and unexpected ache he felt when he saw Ash and Hanna together. And he needed to figure out exactly how many lines he was willing to cross with the only person who had ever had his back.

Nicco reached for his phone before he thought better of it. For the veritable shitstorm that had gone down when Dante had called in reinforcements the year before, Nicco was still grateful his brother was back in his life. It was worth everything that had happened with their father, even on the worst days.

“What’s wrong?” Dante’s voice was so like his own, the dark tenor, rich consonants, the fluid way he spoke, like he was writing stories in cursive on fine, thick cardstock. They had grown up speaking Italian from a woman who had been born there, and Nicco reached for it now, needing the connection in ways he hadn’t even realized until that very moment.

“Niente, Dante. Nothing’s wrong. Why do you assume that it is?”

The truth was, quite a lot was wrong, but nothing Nicco felt like sharing with his little brother.

“Because you haven’t called me out of the blue in months,” Dante pointed out. “And because I know you’re working a protection case in Montana and didn’t even let me know we were in the same state.”

“Ash told you?” Nicco really needed a cigarette, if only for something to do with his fingers. Yeah, right.

“He did.” Dante’s voice was low. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Nicco chewed his lip. It made him feel a certain way that his brother and his best friend, the one who seemed to have a truly incalculable hold on him, were in such close contact.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Nicco replied honestly. “DV case, but it might be connected to something bigger. You familiar with Magnus Ralston III?”

Dante let out a low sound of disapproval on the other end of the line. “Yeah, unfortunately. He has a reputation.”

That made Nicco think of all that Ash had told him the night before, of all the hurts Ash had suffered, along with everyone else who hadn’t fit into the perfect mold, who hadn’t found it in them to break their bones and curve their spines just to be something they weren’t.

“We’re…going on a mission tonight,” Nicco said as evasively as he could. The less Dante knew, the less Dante could be on the hook if this all blew up in their faces. “I just wanted to touch base before…things went down.”

“Ah, that kind of mission,” Dante replied. “Would it make any difference if I told you to be careful?”

Nicco allowed himself a small smile. “It makes a difference to me,” he said quietly.

Dante shuffled on the other side of the phone. “Nic, what’s going on?”

That wasn’t a great sign, that Dante could tell from miles away that Nicco was standing on a tightrope and hoping for calm winds. But he couldn’t tell Dante the truth because there was already so much guilt and upset mired in all that had happened between them and their father the year before, because Dante already blamed himself for Nicco getting stabbed and, arguably so much worse, for making Nicco the one who had to pay the ultimate price. And if Nicco told his brother that there were memories in his dreams, like fingers reaching out from the dark and yanking him under, that sometimes those memories looked like their father and sometimes they looked like Nicco himself, well, that would only worsen the guilt and the hurt and the fatigue. He’d rather bear the burden alone than that.