Bridget nestled into Nolan’s side, with her head on his shoulder, as they rode back to his apartment from the Foley’s after-party, where they’d stayed long enough for some celebratory toasts and congratulations.

“I’m surprised you want to stay at my place tonight.” Nolan’s quiet voice rumbled under Bridget’s hand where it rested on his abdomen.

“I thought about getting us a room, but I like the idea of being able to sleep as long as we want and not having to check out or anything.” She sighed contentedly. “Or, you know, not sleep as late as we want.”

She grinned and looked over at him to find the barest hint of pink creeping up his neck.

“Nolan, are you blushing?”

“Maybe.” He blew out a breath.

Bridget sat up, hoping to get a better look at him so she could fathom what in the world was going through his head. She left her hand on his arm and hoped her touch would reassure him about whatever existential crisis seemed to have suddenly overtaken him in the last thirty seconds.

“Talk to me, Nolan.”

“We’re here,” he deflected.  When Bridget quirked an eyebrow at him, he grinned and brought her hand to his lips. “I’m good. I just . . . let’s go into the apartment. Please.”

Bridget felt a flutter in her tummy, though she didn’t know if it was anxiety or excitement. Nolan opened her car door for her, and they made their way up the stairs to his small apartment. He walked a few steps behind her, still not saying anything. With a frustrated grunt, Bridget suddenly whipped around and got in Nolan’s face, the stairs making it possible to look him right in the eye.

“What is going on with you, Nolan? Babe, if you don’t want me here, I’ll get a Lyft back to my place.” She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Talk to me, please.”

“This is what I was afraid was going to happen,” he muttered as he stroked a piece of her hair that escaped her topknot. He tucked the errant hair behind her ear, running his fingers along the soft curve of her cheek.

Bridget caught his fingers in hers and kissed his fingertips. “What were you afraid was going to happen?”

“That I would panic and be awkward and weird.”

“So . . . you’re panicking and being awkward and weird because you were afraid that you were going to panic and be awkward and weird?”

He chuckled. “Yeah? Self-fulfilling prophecy, I guess.” He wouldn’t look at her, but rather seemed to be studying his shoes, at least until Bridget leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth.

“Don’t, Nol. There is no pressure, okay?” She kissed him again and felt relief when he began to kiss her back, softly, tentatively at first, but when she wrapped her hand around his neck, Nolan leaned into her, sliding his arms around her torso and pulling her to him. She yipped when his hands went under her rump to lift her off her feet, and Bridget wrapped her legs around his waist, cackling as he fumbled to unlock the door and carry her inside the apartment.

Nolan kicked the door shut with his foot and didn’t let go of her.

“I’m sorry I smushed your roses,” he said with a glance at the delicate blooms that were now crushed between their torsos. “I’ll get you more.”

Bridget pressed her lips to his jaw in answer, ignoring the roses that tickled her chin. She continued kissing him as he strode into the kitchen and set her on the counter. Bridget wrapped her hands around the collar of his shirt, pulling him close.

“I spy with my little eye . . . a big cake,” she whispered. “Is that for me?”

Nolan got that glint in his eye that she loved, and nodded. He nestled a little closer between her thighs and whispered in her ear, “You want some?”

“Oh yeah.”

Nolan winked and then stepped back to open a drawer and remove a silver cake knife and server. He winked again and sliced through the thick chocolate ganache. A whimper escaped Bridget’s mouth.

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she breathed.

“What?” He froze with a large slice of the cake perched on the server.

“You. You are the sexiest beast I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“You sure Hanna didn’t clock you?” he teased, his ears pinking.

Bridget grunted. “What did I tell you about that?”

“To shut the fuck up and take a compliment.”

“That’s right.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Nolan used the side of the fork to cut through the layers of crepe, crème, and chocolate, and Bridget squirmed on the countertop. No, that was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He put the cake-laden fork up to her lips, and whispered, “Open.”

“Yes, sir.” She opened her mouth, and Nolan slid the morsel of cake off the tines and onto her tongue.

“Oh my God, Nolan,” Bridget groaned with ecstasy after she swallowed the bite. “More, please.”

Nolan proceeded to feed her cake until the plate was clean. He placed the plate in the sink and leaned over to give Bridget a kiss on the side of the mouth. “You had a little bit of cream right there.” He kissed the other side of her mouth. “And there, too.”

He cradled her neck in his hands, tilting her chin up to get better access to her mouth. “And maybe here, too,” he murmured before kissing her softly, deeply.

Bridget melted into him, her own hands slipping over his broad shoulders to meet in the back of his neck. She felt his hands slip under the hem of her blouse and coast over her back. Nolan made a pleased sound when he realized she forwent the bra, and she smiled against his mouth when she felt his fingers move to undo the buttons on her blouse. Once again his hands slipped inside against the soft skin of her torso, skimming her waist and roaming her lower back as Bridget began to unbutton Nolan’s shirt so she could get skin to skin with him. She faltered and fumbled when he moved from her mouth to her neck, nipping at the curve of her shoulder.

Holy!

She managed to get his shirt off his shoulders, only to be frustrated by a singlet he had tucked into his chinos. She pulled the undershirt up, exposing his hair-dusted belly. She ran her hands over his torso, under the singlet. Nolan sucked his breath through his teeth when she dragged her nails over his nipples, and Bridget felt his erection grow harder and longer as she wriggled against him.

“Take it off, Nolan.” She tugged at the singlet. “I wanna see you.” Bridget watched the gleam of arousal dim, and she began to shake her head. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to hide inside here.” She tapped the side of his head. “Talk to me, Nolan.”

“There’s . . . a reason why I wear a shirt, you know, even if I’m really uncomfortable.”

“Nolan, I’ve already seen your scar. Please let me see you—all of you—again,” she pleaded. “Please.” She ran her hands over his bare arms, tracing the patterns of the half-sleeve tattoos, and smiled reassuringly at him. “I’ll even go first.”

She shrugged her shirt off and dropped it to the floor, very aware that she now sat half-naked on his kitchen counter. Bridget forced herself to keep her hands down, and she relaxed so that, hopefully, Nolan would feel the same way. He stroked her shoulder with the back of his hand and then pulled the singlet over his head and let it drop to the ground.

“May I?” she whispered. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Bridget touched the scar that ran down the middle of his sternum. “This,” she said, “is just outward proof that you’re a survivor, Nolan.” She laid her hand flat in the center of his chest, and he folded his hands on top of hers.

Bridget leaned forward and pressed her lips to where his pulse thrummed in his throat, and then on his folded hands. She sighed and laid her head against his hands and wondered how she could convince this sweet, caring man that he was deserving, that he was more than enough. She felt him slide his hands from where they rested under her cheek to stroke her hair and then her back.

Nolan moved away from her, just a bit, and she began to panic; regardless of what she said earlier, it would absolutely not be okay if he didn’t want her here. But then he bent and caught her mouth in a hard, desperate kiss, and she knew he needed her to be there as much as she needed to be with him. She felt those big, strong hands cup her backside and then felt herself being lifted off the counter. Bridget smiled against Nolan’s mouth and clung to his shoulders as he carried her from the kitchen.