Chapter Twenty-Two
Present Day
The next morning, I tried to be as quiet as possible when getting ready to leave for the gallery. I was used to traipsing through the house in my pajamas, not paying attention to noises or floorboard creaks. But with Nate asleep upstairs, I was trying to be as mouse-like as I could, quietly scurrying through the kitchen to make my coffee and bagel, then get to work.
I was telling myself I didn’t want to disturb him, but in reality, I was pretty sure I just wanted to avoid an awkward situation. And all that really meant was that I didn’t want to see him comfortable, sleepy, in his pajamas with bed head in my house. How could I ever love my house again after seeing him like that? It would never be the same. It would always be lacking. So I had to make it out of the house before he woke up.
I had packed my travel mug, I had my bagel, and I was just leaving him a note when I heard his door open and his footsteps start down the stairs.
“Shit,” I whispered to myself, looking toward the door to gauge whether I could make a clean getaway before he appeared. I quickly realized, unless I wanted him to see me dashing for the front door as if the kitchen were on fire, I would have to face him. I grabbed my bagel and took a bite, trying to appear comfortable in my own kitchen, and probably failing spectacularly.
He came around the corner and I knew I was doomed. He looked exactly as I was afraid he would. Sexy. Rumpled. Sleepy. Lickable. Damn.
“Morning,” he said in a rough, sleepy voice.
Damn.
“Morning,” I said, forgetting I had bagel in my mouth, crumbs shooting forward and landing on the floor. I covered my mouth quickly, rolling my eyes at my own ineptitude. “Morning,” I tried again once my mouth was empty.
He laughed and pointed toward the coffee pot. “Do you mind if I grab a cup?”
“No, no. Please, help yourself.” I watched as he opened a cupboard, guessing their location correctly on the first try, and pulled out a mug. He poured the coffee while I stared at his broad shoulders. The t-shirt he was wearing was just tight enough to show his muscles flexing in a delicious way.
He turned back around and I suddenly found my shoes extremely interesting, moving my eyes away from his body as fast as I could.
“You’re up early,” I managed. “Especially considering the time change.”
“I’m used to getting up early in my line of work. Generally, you want to get a lot of the work done before the day gets too hot. Also,” he said, a playful smirk spreading over his mouth, “I heard you trying to be quiet.” He laughed a little as he brought the mug to his lips, and then sipped. “You whisper to yourself. Did you know that?”
“I do not,” I cried, but tried to think back over my morning to see if I could recall whispering anything.
“You do, actually. You narrate your morning. Or, at least you did today. I heard you tell yourself it was time for a shower and also when it was time for coffee.” His smile grew wider and he crossed his legs at the ankle as he leaned back against the counter. “I thought it was adorable.”
This was exactly what I was afraid of – him, being cute, comfortable, and cozy in my house. No, this wouldn’t do. “Well, I’m going to go whisper to myself at work then,” I said, my voice strained. I was caught somewhere between completely aroused and extremely uncomfortable because I was aroused. “Do you need anything before I take off?”
“I just need to know what time you’ll be home to make plans for dinner.”
“I’ll be back around five. Again, help yourself to anything in the house. I’m sorry I have to be gone, but today will be a busy day because of the show yesterday. I’m expecting lots of phone calls and emails and things of that nature.” I said all this while backing up toward the door. I kept my eyes on him, talking to fill the space between us, half-afraid that if I didn’t slowly escape, he was going to eat me alive.
“See you at five,” he said, his smirky, sexy grin still plastered across his face.
I turned abruptly and quickly opened and closed the door, breathing out a sigh of relief when I’d made it outside.
“Make it through the workday and then dinner and everything will be okay,” I whispered to myself as I walked toward my car.
The day passed at a fast pace. As I expected, I was inundated with phone calls and emails, all contacts who’d been at the show the night before wanting to make plans for future projects. Sylvia had been nice enough to come in on her day off to assist me, and around ten a.m. came in to my office with a wonderfully large cup of coffee.
“You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.” She handed me the cup and I noticed there was extra ice – just the way I liked it.
“I’m the only assistant you’ve ever had.”
“That’s irrelevant.” I took a sip of the too sweet coffee concoction I loved and then let out a happy sigh. “Okay, now that I’m caffeinated, what’s the word?”
“The word is you made thirty thousand dollars last night.”
“Shut the fucupcakes.” My mouth gaped open.
“I will not. I’m not even sure I know what that means.”
“Thirty thousand dollars? As in, one thousand dollars thirty times over? As in one dollar thirty thousand times?”
Sylvia laughed as I gaped.
“That’s exactly what I said. Thirty thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money for one show, Evie.” She raised her eyebrows at me. She was pretty much telling me ‘I told you so,’ without saying the words. I gave her the satisfaction anyhow.
“You were right,” I breathed, leaning all the way back in my chair.
“With that kind of money, you can pay someone to manage the gallery and spend more time taking photographs,” she said, her voice soft and easy, as if she was afraid I wouldn’t like her suggestion.
My eyes grew wide.
“I can buy a better camera.”
Again, Sylvia laughed. “Yes, you sure can.”
“I can’t believe it.” Even to me, my voice sounded far away. Sure, I’d priced all the photos. I knew what they all would go for, but I’d never allowed myself to imagine a scenario where I made my old yearly salary in one night. That didn’t happen to people like me.
“This is the next step in your career, Evelyn. And it’s a big step. You’ve got enough money to take your business to the next level, and you’ve got jobs now lined up for months that are going to pay you really well.” She paused and looked at me for a moment, a thoughtful expression across her face. “All the hard work you’ve done since you got here is paying off. You did it.”
“I did it.” My voice was wistful and unbelieving. For one moment, I forgot about the man waiting for me back at my house.
“So, what happened with you and that ridiculously handsome man you left with last night?”
“He’s an old friend,” I said, trying to avoid talking about him because I had no idea what I was supposed to say. I couldn’t very well tell her that, aside from Devon, he’d been the only man in almost a decade to turn me inside out.
Then, a smile spread over my face when I realized that thinking about Devon no longer turned me inside out. In fact, the only thing I felt when I thought of him was fondness. I let out a breath, glad to have confirmation that moving to LA, changing my life, and going in a totally random yet wonderful direction had been the best decision I’d ever made.
“We went out on one date a few years ago.” I decided to elaborate, and took great pleasure in the fact that just the one sentence about Nate brought on the butterflies. “But I wasn’t in the right mindset to start dating someone. When I left to come to LA, I lost touch with him.”
“So,” Sylvia started, a confused look on her face, “how did he know about your show last night?”
I shrugged. “He said he saw it on my website.”
Her eyes went wide.
“He’s been cyberstalking you?”
“He’s not stalking me,” I said, defending him. “He’s not a creeper.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant he’s been investigating. Gathering information. It’s cute when guys do that. Unless they’re creepers.”
I nodded, looking at the clock, and then realized I’d been looking at the clock often. It was quite a while still until five o’clock.
“So, you didn’t know he was coming to the show?”
“No. I hadn’t spoken with him since before I left. I came to LA and changed my phone number. It was a complete surprise.”
“A good surprise?” Her voice sparkled exactly like the smile on her face. Her eyebrows were high, as were the corners of her mouth.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’m hoping so.” That was, possibly, the most honest sentence I’d uttered all day. I shook my head, trying to break apart all the thoughts of Nate flooding my brain. I had work to do. “Let’s get back to work. I’ll keep returning phone calls, if you can work through my email.”
“Done. I’ll step out in about an hour to get you lunch.”
“You know what, Sylvia? I think I’ll go out myself. I need to make a stop somewhere.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice knowing and singsong.
Three hours later, I found myself inside Agent Provocateur, thinking perhaps I was in over my head. I didn’t know for sure what was going to happen that evening between Nate and me, but I knew what I wanted to happen. I knew it involved removing clothing. I also knew I hadn’t purchased new lingerie in years. This occasion definitely called for something black, lacy, and new.
I’d found the perfect set, something I would feel comfortable wearing under my clothes. It was simple and classic. Almost innocent. If lingerie could be innocent and sexy at the same time, that’s what I bought. I also found myself, thinking about the enormous paycheck coming my way, purchasing a week’s worth of new panties. Some innocent, some not. But simply knowing I had them made me feel more feminine than I had in a long time.
On the drive home that evening, my heartbeat thrummed through my veins and my belly flipped with the thought of going out to dinner with Nate.
His car was still parked at the curb in front of my house, but all the curtains were closed. I opened the door and walked in, my breath caught, eyes wide.
Votive candles were placed randomly throughout the bottom floor, casting a romantic light throughout the house. Soft music was playing, but it was wordless, beautiful piano pieces. I walked slowly through the house, wondering where I would find Nate, my heart pounding. I found him standing at the stove, cooking. His back was to me, and I wasn’t sure he knew I was there, so I took a moment to drink him in.
He had on jeans that clung to every curve of his thighs and ass, leading down to what appeared to be cowboy boots. His black shirt had long sleeves, but they were rolled up, allowing me to see his forearm working as he stirred whatever was making my house smell delicious. His dark hair was barely dusting over the collar of his shirt and I was a little upset I couldn’t see a bit of skin there.
“I can feel your eyes on me, Lyn.”
His voice startled me, and heat spread over my cheeks with the realization I’d been caught. He obviously liked it though; he let me stand there and ogle him for a good half minute before interrupting me.
“It’s not every day I come home to a handsome man cooking in my kitchen.”
He turned his head to look at me, his brown eyes captivating against the black of his shirt. Then I noticed his shirt was a button-up, and it was tucked in. He was dressed up. He looked fresh, all but for the stubble on his chin, which I never wanted to see him without. In fact, I wanted to feel it up against my skin: on my fingers, my mouth, my thighs.
A new heat ran through me with the thoughts of his stubble against my skin.
“I’m not going to pretend like that statement doesn’t make me happy,” he said with an easy smile. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes if you want to relax for a little while.”
I looked down at my jeans, flip-flops, and t-shirt and decided to change. “I’m just going to go freshen up,” I announced. But before I made it out of the kitchen, I stopped and asked him a question. “I had no food in my house. What in the world are you cooking?”
“I went to the store. Don’t worry about anything. Tonight we’re celebrating.”
“Okay,” I replied, my voice a whisper. He winked at me and I nearly died, every muscle in my body contracting.
The next thirty minutes was spent in a dizzying dash around my master suite. I’d never been so glad to have an attached bathroom, as I was running in and out, trying on different dresses, trying to decide exactly how I wanted the evening to play out.
In the end, with my hair smoothed out, fresh makeup applied, and new underwear on, I decided to take a cue from Nate and wore a black dress just a notch or two up from casual. It wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t something you’d put on to go to the grocery store, either. It was, perhaps, a third date dress. The one you’d wear to let a man know you wanted him to take you out of it.
I also put on high heels, even though I was only walking down the stairs to my own kitchen. The dress looked silly with anything but four-inch stilettos.
When I finally thought I’d made myself presentable, exactly twenty-eight minutes after I’d come upstairs, I took a deep breath and returned to Nate.
When I entered the kitchen, I marveled again at how gorgeous he looked, but was taken by surprise at his response to me. He looked stunned. He stopped, mid-stride, kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, pan in hand, and he took me in.
I tried not to shrivel under his stare and instead, tried to blossom. I pushed my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and pretended that I was totally comfortable with his eyes roving over me. I wanted his eyes there, but I’d never been so bold as to stand tall and let a man drink me in.
“It smells great, whatever you’re making,” I said, trying to break the tension building in our silence.
“Seafood Alfredo. I hope you like shrimp and scallops.”
“I do,” I said, pleased with his choice of meals. “Where’d you learn how to cook something like that?”
“Here,” he said quickly, “sit down and I’ll get you some wine. I bought white to go with the meal, I hope that’s all right?”
“I love white wine,” I said as I sat at my own table, but feeling like I was at a restaurant.
“Before I went to college, my mom taught me how to make seven meals.” He opened the fridge and produced a bottle of wine, then moved to open it while he continued his story. “She figured if I could cook one meal for each day of the week, I might not starve.”
“Did your mom know you’d be using your acquired skills to woo women?” I said the words quickly, before I could stop my mouth from spewing them out, and then panicked when I realized I’d insinuated there was more to this dinner than just two people sharing a meal.
A wicked smile grew on his face and I was fixated on it. He walked to the table with the wine bottle and two glasses in his hands. Placing one glass in front of me, and one in front of his spot, he turned back to me and poured the wine for me.
“If my mother knew you, I’m sure she’d approve of my attempt to woo you, cooking included.”
“Oh,” was all I could say as I brought the now full glass of wine to my lips. I took a sip of the cool, crisp white wine, loving the taste. “This is quite good,” I said, setting the glass down.
“I’m glad you like it.” He moved back into the kitchen and the next few minutes passed with silence as I watched him move around in my house as if he’d lived there with me for the last two years. He never once asked me where something was, or if I had a certain ingredient or utensil he was looking for. He’d seemed to have everything memorized.
Finally, he turned toward the table with a plate in each hand and placed one in front of me, then made his way to the other side of the table, sitting down with his plate in front of him. The meal looked as good as it smelled and suddenly, I was starving.
“I hope you like it,” he said, his voice sounding a little shy and hopeful.
I took a bite and had to hold back a moan. It was delicious. I was a fan of Italian food, always had been, and that was the best seafood Alfredo I’d ever had.
“Wow. This is amazing,” I said before piling more into my mouth, trying to walk the line between gross-food-shoveling and being the girl who wasn’t afraid to eat on a date. “What else did your mom teach you to make?”
“If you’d like to know, you’re going to have to go out on six more dates with me, at the very least.”
“Oh, really? I see how it is,” I said through laughter.
“My mother didn’t raise a fool.” He smiled right before he wrapped his lips around the tines of his fork and I nearly choked on my shrimp. I’d never considered eating an arousing activity, but I’d be damned if Nate’s lips wrapping around something wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d seen in a while.
“What did you tell your mom about coming to California? Did she think you were crazy?”
“No. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell anyone, actually.”
“Oh,” I replied. His answer had deflated me a little.
“I guess I was afraid that if I told my mom about how I was going after a woman, she’d get her hopes up. I didn’t know how you were going to react to me showing up. I didn’t want to have to go home and tell her I’d gotten my very first restraining order.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and thought he had a point.
“Nate,” I started, but was stopped when he held up his hand.
“Whatever you’re going to say, let’s just wait until after dinner. I want to sit here, with you, in that amazing dress, and pretend like this is the dinner date we never got.” The butterflies in my stomach took flight at his words, and the pounding of my pulse thrummed through my veins. I was in full swoon mode. “I promise whatever you want to talk about after dinner is fair game.” It was a statement, but it was pleading. I nodded, then took another bite, conceding. “So,” he said with a sigh, “how was work today.”
“Great,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I made thirty thousand dollars.” I said the words like they meant nothing, and then took another bite. I was aware he’d stopped moving, his fork stalled halfway to his mouth, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” he said, coughing a little, putting his fork down, and taking a sip of his wine. “Did you just say you made thirty thousand dollars?”
I nodded quickly, too excited to hide it any longer. “I’m sorry, it’s probably bad form to talk about money on a date, but I really wanted to tell someone.” I took a breath and continued. “I made thirty thousand dollars at my show last night.” I was nearly bouncing up and down in my chair, thankful to have someone to share the news with.
“Holy shit.” His face was blank and his eyes were like saucers. “Holy shit, Lyn. That’s amazing.”
“It’s really exciting,” I agreed. “I’m not sure I’ve really grasped it yet, but I know I’m really lucky. A lot of people can’t make it as a professional photographer and, well, I just secured my job for at least another six months. I feel really blessed.”
“You’re being humble, which is cute, but you’re really talented.” His words were insistent and genuine. I didn’t get the feeling he was trying to be flattering, it felt like he was telling me the truth.
“Thank you.” I blushed again.
“Wow, okay, now we’ve really got something to celebrate. I didn’t get any champagne though. I thought we’d maybe gotten enough champagne last night.”
“I don’t need champagne,” I said a little more dreamily than I had planned. My eyes were glued to his and I was already warm from the wine, and more than a little tipsy from his praise. I didn’t need champagne. I needed exactly what he was giving me.
“So,” I said, kicking off my heels and folding my feet under me on the couch where I’d just sat down, “let’s talk about you being in California.”
“Okay,” he agreed. He was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, but it was a small couch, so he was only a few inches from me. The hand closest to me held his wine glass, and his other arm was stretched out along the back of the couch, draping down the arm. I looked at him over the rim of my own wine glass, taking in the way his shirt was stretched over his bicep. I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost positive his muscles had grown in the two years since I’d seen him.
I wanted to reach over and undo a few of his buttons, maybe even all of them. He’d been eyeing me all through dinner and I knew he wanted to touch me too, but we were still going to talk. I got the feeling nothing would progress between us until that happened. And, honestly, I was okay with that. Things between us weren’t exactly simple and the way I’d left him hanging, without even a goodbye, deserved an explanation. Especially since he’d come all the way to California to see me.
“The last time I saw you, before you left, you were in a rough spot emotionally.”
I nodded, remembering our last encounter vividly. He’d been heartbreakingly sweet and very understanding.
“That day, it took everything I had in me not to wrap my arms around you and tell you how amazing I thought you were, and how dumb I thought Devon was for playing whatever role he’d played in your unhappiness.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, but then closed it because, well, he had a point. Devon had played a role in my unhappiness. I’d long since forgiven him, and myself, for the years of torture we’d put ourselves through. It was over now.
“It didn’t feel right though.” He brought his free hand up and threaded it through his hair, showing he was frustrated, or frustrated by a memory, perhaps. “I knew if I tried to swoop in and fix you, you wouldn’t ever be mine.” His eyes darted over to me, and I tried to keep my expression even. I didn’t want him to know his words had opened me up. “Not really, anyway,” he continued. “We might have hooked up, and we might have tried to date, but if we got together when you were still healing from something else, we would have been doomed.” He took in a deep breath and then exhaled it out. “So, I did the only thing I thought was right. I gave you time.” He shifted on the couch, turning in to face me a little more. I was glad to have more of his handsome face to look at.
“You know that saying, if you love something, let it go and then if it comes back to you, you’ll know it belongs to you?”
I nodded.
“Well, I was trusting the wisdom of that stupid saying. I was hoping if I gave you space, you’d come back to me.”
“Nate…”
“So, I guess what I’m saying is,” he continued, talking over me, “I came to California to find out why you never came back to me.” His eyes came up to meet mine and he looked so gentle and curious, with just the tiniest twinge of hurting there in the brown depths of his eyes. “I thought for a while that it was because you were with Devon. But then I found you on your website, and your name was still the same, and a small part of me held out hope.” He stopped and shook his head. “I sound like a crazy stalker.”
“No, Nate, it’s fine. I can explain.” I leaned forward and placed my wine glass on the coffee table, then moved so I was facing him fully, sitting with my legs under me. I met his eyes and smiled because I could see he was anxious about what I was about to tell him. The butterflies in my belly thought it was adorable.
“I never came back to you because of something you said to me that day.”
His eyes grew wide and then confused. I could tell his brain was sifting through everything he’d said to me so long ago, trying to pinpoint what he’d said to make me run away.
“You put that alert on my phone and you told me, when it came up, to make a decision. You said you’d be okay with whatever I chose as long as it was my first choice.”
I reached out and took his hand because I could see him as he took in my words, watching as he realized what they implied.
“And I wasn’t your first choice.”
“No, Nate, you weren’t.” I rubbed both of my thumbs over the top of his hand, loving the moment but also wanting to get past it because I could tell it was upsetting him. “My first choice was me.”
I powered on because I had so much to say to him that I couldn’t risk him butting in.
“For so long, I’d been everyone’s second choice, just like you said. Then, you came along and you showed me what it was like to have someone see me first, to see me and make no qualms about wanting me. You were sweet and nice and such a great kisser.” I blushed a little, but then linked my fingers with his, smiling when he didn’t pull away, but gave me a gentle squeeze.
“I wanted all of that – wanted you – but knew it wasn’t the right time or the right situation. That next night, after we talked, I went to Devon and we finally both ended everything between us. Not that there ever was anything, really. But we just couldn’t do it anymore. He needed to move on with his life, and I needed to start mine, because I never really had. So, I left. I wanted to reach out to you, but I knew it wasn’t right. I couldn’t make you sit around and wait for me, especially when I had planned, from that moment on, to focus on me, on what I needed. And the last thing I needed back then was a man.” I smiled at him, hoping he understood.
“But never in a million years did I expect to see you again, Nate. And I’ll never be able to explain the way it felt when I saw you last night. It means so much to me that you came – no matter the reason behind it – it’s the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Our eyes were locked and his looked slightly worried and troubled.
I watched as his free hand slowly came across his body, gently finding my cheek, his fingers sliding back into my hair just slightly.
“And what about now, Lyn?” My eyes automatically closed at the feeling of his fingers floating over my skin. “Are you still your own first choice?” His words were whispered, and his hand put gentle pressure on the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. His hand, which was clasped in mine, pulled loose and traveled slowly up the side of my thigh.
I nodded. “I have to be. No one else is going to put me first if I don’t.”
“What if,” he said, his voice wavering just a little as his hand slid even higher up my thigh, then rounding up over my ass. “What if I told you I was interested in ranking a close second?”
“I’d say,” I breathed, our faces only inches apart, “the position is all yours.”
Our lips met in the slowest collision. When his mouth was finally pressed up against mine, I could do nothing to keep the relief from coming out of me in a moan. Granted, I never thought I’d see the man again, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t spent nights thinking about kissing him under that waterfall.
I’d missed kissing, sure. But I hadn’t realized until that moment how much I missed kissing him.
Then, suddenly, we lost ourselves. I was climbing over him, straddling his legs, pulling his mouth to mine as if I could fuse him to me. His hands were roaming all over me, groping me over my dress, groaning as he squeezed the fleshiest parts of me.
After minutes of making out like teenagers, I felt him pull away and my lips felt like the rug had been pulled out from under them.
“I’m sorry, Lyn, I didn’t mean to attack you like that. God, I’m sorry. You must think I’m an ass. I’ve been thinking about you for two years now, and all day today, and then you came downstairs in this dress,” he said the last words as he ran his hands over my ass again. “I’m sorry,” he said again, removing his hands.
“Nate, I climbed on your lap,” I laughed. “You’re not the only one who wants this.” I bent low again, trying to coax his lips to come back to mine, but he pulled back again.
“I don’t want you to think this is why I came here.”
With those words, I pulled back even farther, trying to read him, trying to understand his hesitation.
“I’ve been thinking about you for so long. I dated a few women, but none of them compared to the woman I took on that hike, who lit up when a camera was in her hands. Who loved two children so dearly who weren’t even hers. Who missed her best friend but did everything she could to carry out her last wishes. This isn’t about sex, Lyn. Although, I can’t deny that I want you. But, for me at least, this is way more than just sex.”
My eyes darted back and forth between his, looking for some indication as to how to take his words.
“So, you don’t want to do this?” I asked, my eyes drifting down to where our bodies were connected, yet still clothed. I could tell part of him wanted to continue.
His hands came to rest near my knees, a much safer place than my ass had been. I felt my heart deflate a little at the movement. I wanted him. I found myself unwilling to deny that fact, and also proud of myself for not shying away from sex. I’d spent a good portion of my life denying myself the pleasure of sharing my body with a man because the man was Devon.
“God, I want you, Lyn,” he said, squeezing my legs with his hands. “But I want more than just sex.”
“What more do you want?” I asked breathily, my heart rate spiking.
“I want you. I want us. We never got a real shot the first time – nothing was right then. But I want a second chance.”
“You live very far away,” I whispered, moving my hands up his arms, loving the way the cotton of his shirt slid along my skin. I wasn’t denying him, not in the slightest, I just wanted to make sure he knew what he was getting into.
“There are planes, and Skype, and FaceTime. It’ll be difficult, but it’s got to be better than the last two years of only imagining what it would be like.”
“It’s got to be only me, Nate.” My voice was suddenly serious. I hadn’t meant for it to sound cold, but when the words escaped from me, they needed attention. “I won’t be with someone who is also seeing someone else. I want to make someone, you, my priority, and I want that in return.”
“You want me all to yourself?” he asked, a smile now spreading over his previously troubled face.
“Yes,” I whispered. “And for the last two years I’ve been working so hard on myself, I want to give you all of that as well.”
“I get the new and improved Lyn?” His smile grew even wider.
“If you’ll have me.”
Then, for just one moment, I was struck with panic. I panicked because for most of my life the person I loved wouldn’t have me, and the one person who would, never knew the real me. This was the first time I’d come, essentially bare, stripped down and real, and offered myself to someone. And he could easily say no.
My breath was stalled, my skin vibrating with the agony of waiting for his response.
“I won’t just have you,” he said, bringing his hands to the back of my neck and pulling me down to his mouth, “I’ll keep you this time.”
I smiled as our mouths met, and the butterflies in my belly took flight again.
My smile quickly disappeared when Nate’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist, lifted me, and lay me on the couch, his body fitting over mine. One foot was on the floor, his other knee wedged between my body and the back of the couch, keeping the brunt of his weight off me. But I could feel the pressure and the heat pressing me down into the couch, and it was wonderful. I wanted to feel everything: every breath he took, every move he made. I wanted to be fully present.
We kissed and my hands started to wander, wanting to familiarize themselves with him, wanting to touch and feel him. I managed to squeeze them between us and started working on the buttons of his black shirt. I pulled his shirt free from his pants at the same time, slowly peeling back the only layer of fabric between my hands and his chest.
He shrugged the shirt free after I’d released the last button and tossed it across the room, then his mouth found mine again. I wasted no time letting my hands roam freely over the chest I’d only imagined, in great detail, both two years ago and then all day today. And admittedly, more than a few days in between.
My fingers made their way down the defined valley that ran between his pectorals, then felt the rigid bumps of his abdominals, and somewhere inside my brain a very girly voice was screaming and hyperventilating about the V I felt running up the sides of his hips as my hands smoothed their way to his back.
The entire time I was caressing the muscular landscape of his top half, his bottom half was inching closer to mine. His foot had come off the floor and my legs instantly wound themselves around his hips.
“Lyn, God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said before dipping back down and sucking my lower lip into his mouth.
I didn’t have a response. Or, not one I would give him. He couldn’t fathom how long I’d been waiting for someone to want me, to chase me. Nate was here, in my home, where he’d traveled a long way to be, and he wanted nothing more than me in that moment. His hands moved over my body and I knew, without one single doubt, no one else was on his mind.
And that, to me, was almost the best part. Almost.
My favorite part of our encounter kept being replaced by the moment that followed directly after it.
I loved the way his hands threaded themselves through my hair.
I loved the way he groaned a little in the back of his throat when I ran my fingernails down his biceps.
I loved the way my hips tilted to meet his, to bring him closer to me than any other man had been in so long.
I loved how, I knew, even if everything between us was brand new, I’d never given anyone what I was about to give Nate, which was all of me.
“I need you in a bed,” he said suddenly, lifting off of me and taking my hand. I was pulled to my feet and led up the stairs, all the while watching the way each muscle in his back worked with those around it, a synchronized orchestra of sorts. It was hypnotizing and glorious. He pulled me into my room, didn’t bother to close the door, and then started with the kissing again.
The man could kiss.
He didn’t just kiss with his mouth. No. He kissed with his hands all over my body, with his breath panting heavily on my face, and with the most demanding and gifted tongue I’d ever encountered.
As he kissed me, his hands bunched up my dress, pulling it up higher and higher, until he was fisting the length of it in his hands at my thighs. He pulled his mouth from mine, stepped away slowly, and then inched the dress up and over my head. I closed my eyes, not able to handle the magnitude of the situation. I wasn’t sure I could handle it if the first thing I saw on his face when he took in my naked body was anything less than the bulgy cartoon eyes I remembered from Saturday mornings. No. I didn’t want to risk witnessing his disappointment.
I felt the fabric brush over my face. I lowered my arms to my sides, and then I stood in my bedroom in complete silence.
“Open your eyes, Lyn.” Nate’s voice was low and deep and rumbled through me. My eyes opened at his command and I was relieved to see what I imagined the opposite of disappointment would look like. He looked excited. His eyes were taking in each and every part of my body before rapidly moving on to the next. His fingers were moving back and forth just slightly as if they were itching to touch me. I watched as his chest expanded and fell in time with his breaths, which were coming fast.
When his eyes finally landed on me, he spoke.
“You’re so much more than I could have ever imagined.”
Without any thought, I looked down at my body, wondering what he saw that impressed him so. I, admittedly, had a critical eye. It was an occupational hazard. I saw shadows where there shouldn’t be shadows, and dimples where I hated seeing dimples. I saw pointy angles were others might only see elbows. The point was, whatever I was afraid Nate was seeing, he obviously wasn’t.
Thank you, Agent Provocateur.
He took the two steps back to me and gently placed his hands on my hips, his rough, calloused hands sending shivers all over me. One arm moved to wrap around my waist, lifting me off my feet, and my legs instinctively wrapped around his middle. He walked us to the bed, crawled across it, with my body still clinging to his, and then he gently lay me down. My hands immediately went to the closure of his jeans, pulling them open, button by button.
We were rapidly losing the few remaining pieces of clothing between us, but when we were both bare, skin to skin, my body seemed magnetized to his. I’d never experienced such a complete feeling as I did pressed up against Nate, feeling his hands wander over me, claim me, need me. It was intoxicating and beautiful all at the same time. Intoxicating because I wanted to die in that feeling, wanted to end on such a high that I’d never have to float back down, but beautiful because I knew he was just as high as I was. This wasn’t one-sided. This wasn’t forbidden or soul crushing. This was his body finally connecting with mine. And it was beautiful.