Chapter Eight

Jenna

Sitting at the table, looking across at Nate, I felt moved by his story. He was careful not to let much show, but beneath his stoic persona, I could sense the hint of a loss.

I admired him, both how he spoke about his job and his commitment to people he didn’t even know.

I had been sitting across from him, but I pulled my seat over to be at his side. I saw a flicker of intrigue cross his face. He laid his hand out on the table, palm up. I wondered if he was inviting me to put my hand on top of his, or whether he was changing the position of his arm. I imagined his warm, strong fingers closing around mine.

“It’s been nice talking to you tonight, Nate. I’ve needed a night like this.”

Nate nodded. “Me, too.”

His eyes caught mine, and he smiled. The spark I felt when he looked at me made me lift my hand from my knee, ready to risk grabbing his.

As soon as I began to raise it from my lap to reach for him, Nate stood and began to clear the table.

I swallowed back the disappointment and began to help him clear away the dishes. As we tidied together, I watched Nate carefully, trying to figure out how to read him. I tried to catch any sign of insincerity or ego in him. I couldn’t find any.

I remembered conversations with Victor about what he did in the line of duty. They had never increased my respect for him. Then again, Victor had always been callous about the crime victims he was supposed to serve and protect. All the women were damsels in distress, just waiting to be saved. All the criminals he took down simply cowered at his shadow. Victor was Mr. Cop Almighty, and none were worthy of his glory.

When Nate spoke, he wasn’t trying to impress me. At least, I didn’t think he was. I felt like he was sincere when he described how the loss of his wife had driven him, and continued to propel him, to rescue others. I believed him when he said he never forgot the people he hadn’t reached in time. It didn’t feel like the heroism in Nate was only skin-deep.

“Shall we move to the sofa?”

We’d finished clearing the table and were standing in the middle of the kitchen. Nate’s suggestion to move to the sofa made my skin tingle in anticipation, and I felt a flush rising up from my chest.

I tried to keep my desire out of my expression and smiled. “Sure.”

It had grown darker outside while we’d been talking, and the room was dimmer than it had been when Nate first arrived. I could have made the decision to get up and turn on the lights, but I liked the way the darkness held us. The darkness allowed me to admire Nate without being caught.

He was incredibly handsome. He wore a blue button-down shirt that matched the color of his eyes. I was more used to seeing him in his firefighter gear or a white T-shirt, so it was something new to see him dressed up.

I wondered if he had made an effort for me.

“More wine?”

“Sure.”

“Wait a second. We’ve emptied the bottle already.”

I placed the empty bottle back down on the coffee table and sat back with my glass in my hand. I took another sip and felt my head start swimming. When I let my eyes linger on Nate’s strong, broad chest, I could hardly think straight.

“I don’t drink very often these days,” Nate told me. “Not when I’m looking after Harriet on my own.”

“I’m glad tonight you can let your hair down.”

“Me, too.”

He was perfection. Nate didn’t seem to have any vices or faults. He was a wonderful father, both responsible and committed. Harriet adored him. I always knew when it was a “Daddy day” and Nate would be picking her up after school. She’d talk about it all day. Me and Daddy are gonna cook s'ghetti. Me and Daddy are gonna go to the park.

Nate sincerely cared about people, too. He seemed to admire his sister, and he cherished his daughter. He’d stood by a dying wife. But his compassion went further than that. Nate was the sort of person who would save anybody.

He shifted a little on the sofa. He was sitting so close to me now that I could feel the heat of his skin on my own. My heart gave a little flutter. It was half lust and half fear. At that moment, I believed Nate was everything he appeared to be, but I’d been fooled by a man playing the hero before. I crossed one leg over the other, moving my thigh further from his reach, and looked away as I took another sip of wine.

“You look lovely tonight, Jenna.”

I felt a flush beginning at my chest and traveling up my throat. I didn’t know why I felt like running away all of a sudden when I’d spent hours choosing an outfit just to draw a compliment from Nate. Perhaps I hadn’t expected him to say anything about my appearance out loud.

Perhaps I hadn’t expected to feel so good when I heard one.

“I’ve had this blouse for years. It was my sister’s.”

“It suits you.”

I didn’t know what I was doing. Deflecting?

I wanted him. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t want to rip his clothes off his body and fuck him right there on the Aztec cushions. I looked up and caught his eye. I felt my breath catch in my throat and my heart skip a beat.

His eyes were fixed on mine, and there was an intensity in them I’d never seen before in the eyes of any man. A hunger.

He said nothing, but moved closer.

I felt his hand rest on my waist, sliding over silk. Nate leaned forward. He brought his lips close to mine, close enough that I could feel his breath. He paused a moment, but I knew he wasn’t hesitating. It was an invitation—an invitation I accepted.

I leaned in and closed my lips over his. My body immediately flooded with adrenaline and satisfaction.

Nate’s tongue parted my lips and slipped into my mouth. I responded with more passion, my fingers slipping into the hair at the back of his head so I could pull him closer. The kiss deepened and continued.

I felt Nate’s palm on my ribcage, which was rising and falling faster and faster as my breaths came in excited pants. His other hand reached out and slowly took hold of the tie at the waist of my silk wrap blouse. He twisted the pink tie slowly around his fingers, then pulled roughly. The silk parted. Nate’s gaze dropped to my chest, and to my breasts, heaving against gold silk and black lace.

He pushed me back until I was lying on the sofa. One hand slipped under my head at the nape of my neck, his fingers twisting in my hair. The other rested on my waist as he effortlessly lifted me into another kiss. My hands began to shake from desire. I began to unbutton his shirt.

His hands were rough. His palm traced the slight curve of my waist, making me so aware of my own body and how it moved against him. I finished unbuttoning his shirt, and the cotton fell apart to reveal a perfect row of muscles that contracted as Nate leaned down to kiss my neck.

I ran my hands over his shoulders as he trailed kisses down my throat. When his mouth reached my chest, I began to let out soft moans of pleasure.

Suddenly, he lifted himself away from me so he could grab each part of my shirt and pull it apart. His arms wrapped around me, forcing us chest to chest, skin to skin. He bit down on the lobe of my ear as he unhooked my bra. When he drew back, I was topless.

Both his hands started at my navel and slowly moved upwards, until he was cupping a breast in each palm, straddling me. He leaned down again and began to suck and bite at my nipples. I felt pleasure course through me as he tasted me. I hungrily drew him up to kiss my mouth again.

He moved his hands to the buttons of my jeans. He unzipped the zipper. I was ready for him. I felt the warm wetness between my legs, my body begging for him to touch me. He pulled the denim away and let it fall to the floor. I was in nothing but my silk and lace panties.

“Nate…”

Nate silenced me with another kiss. His fingers slipped beneath the silk, and I felt them explore me. My back arched instinctively when I felt his fingers brush against my clit. Nate’s lips curved into a wicked, teasing grin. He pressed the weight of his body down against my inner thigh to limit my squirming. He moved his kisses to my mouth, throat, and chest as his fingers began to move.

He started slowly, barely brushing against my clit with his teasing fingers, just enough to see me bite down on my lip and let out a slight moan. Just enough to know he had found what he was looking for. He began to press down, applying sweet pressure, keeping the movement of his fingers slow. The warmth spread.

For a short while, he kept me on the edge, enjoying drawing gasps from my throat. He said nothing. Only a wicked grin told me he knew exactly the feeling he was creating deep down in the core of me, how it was spreading, how close I was…

I moaned when he slipped fingers into me, but continued to massage my clit with his thumb. Then he began to pick up speed, pressing down harder and moving his hand faster, and faster…

The feeling between my legs grew and spread, until my whole body arched and spasmed and my moans grew louder. Finally, my whole body flushed with heat, and I came.

I gasped and felt a moan fill my lungs and spill out. I had never felt anything like that before. The tingle… That explosion. I thought I’d had an orgasm before, but now I knew I was wrong. I had only ever been with Victor. I had thought the sex we had was the full experience. How wrong I was. That feeling in my body made me want to forget everything else and lose myself in Nate forever.

My eyes wandered to my bedroom door, already considering where I wanted this to end. I spotted that letter from my sister, still sitting on my bedside table, and suddenly, a sense of dread filled me. I drew my legs together and picked up my top from the floor to cover myself.

“Nate…” I said breathlessly, “I’m sorry, but I think… I mean…”

Nate stopped at once and sat up. He respectfully moved away and picked up his own shirt from the floor. “What’s wrong?”

How could I explain myself? How could I tell a man who barely knew me why I was pulling away from something so electric? Could I tell him at all? Did I want to pour my heart out to him while I was still pulsing from his touch?

“It’s not you…”

Nate held up his hand to stop me saying anything else, and gave me a tight, but understanding smile. “It’s fine, Jenna. You don’t have to explain.”

I opened my mouth to say more, but I didn’t know what else I could say. It felt like an all-or-nothing moment, where I could either tell him everything or I had to choose to let him leave without really understanding why I’d pushed him away.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about Victor. Not now. Not like this.

I watched Nate get dressed and head for the door. Inside, I was screaming for him to stay. My body was begging to be touched again. I wanted him badly.

Yet the voice of reason in my head was shouting louder than the voice of desire. As I looked around at my apartment and all the little signs in it saying I was building a life here, I found it impossible to analyze whether Nate was worth the risk of losing it all. I didn’t know Nate that well yet. I knew he was a good father, and a worthy firefighter, and sexy as hell…But I didn’t really know him.

But me? I knew everything about me. I knew I had once thrown my life away by falling for a man who had made me believe he was good. I knew I had survived four years of insults and abuse because I had once let kind eyes draw me in. I knew my judgment grew poor in the presence of handsome men. I knew myself well enough to know that I could make a mistake and that I had made mistakes before.

Nate was dressed. He headed for the door and pulled it open. I caught up with him as I finished tying my blouse back around my waist. My bra was still on the floor, but I saw Nate look at the dusky pink silk of my blouse outlining my breasts and show restraint. I could sense that beneath his cool exterior, he was burning to take me.

I was burning to be taken.

“Thanks for dinner, Jenna.”

I could do no more than nod in reply, still looking down at the ground. My skin was flushed from shame and the arousal lingering in my body. “I’ll see you at the preschool, Nate.”

Nate nodded. I could see the disappointment in his expression, but he walked away stiffly without looking back.

After he left, I threw myself on my bed and cried.

I cried because I didn’t want to play games with Nate and because I’d wanted him to stay. I cried because the hang-ups Victor had given me had won the night, even though I had promised myself that I was strong enough to move on.

My last relationship had ruined my ability to trust men, and I was crying because I felt like I’d just stopped pure chemistry in my path. There was something electric existing between us. Yet I’d turned my back on it. And for what? So I could dwell longer on how I’d been hurt before?

Was I protecting myself, or merely hurting myself? I wished I knew.