“This is it.”
“Hmm. Maybe we can do something about that. When is your next day off?”
“I’m off tomorrow,” he said as he followed me down the short hallway to his bedroom. His bed was well dressed in a fluffy, expensive-looking white down comforter and oversized pillows. The sun had gone down but the sky was still light enough to fill the room. There was a warm breeze wafting from the open shutters. The air held the scent of wildflowers and sycamore. Through the window I could see a wide-open pasture and a small corral behind the house. The room, although bare, was very inviting. The bed called to me, even if just for a nap, but I knew there were better uses for it.
I noticed a book sitting on Nate’s nightstand. I didn’t recognize the title but I could tell it was science fiction. “So you do read for pleasure?”
He stood in the open doorway, leaning against the jamb with his hands in his pockets. He was clean-shaven but his hair was mussed up sexily. “It helps me sleep.”
“This is a nice room. If you want, I can help you fill the place out tomorrow. So it feels more like home.”
“Things don’t make a place feel like home. People do.” He prowled toward me. I moved backward toward the bed. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I nodded. We were mere inches apart. When I looked down out of shyness, he used his index finger to tip my chin up, bringing my gaze up to his. My hands seemed to move of their own accord into his hair. As I ran my fingers through it, I kept my eyes locked on his. He studied me. His expression was warm, like he was cherishing me. “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”
The question wasn’t meant to be answered. His skilled hands found their way to the top buttons of my sweater. My chest rose and fell dramatically but I forced myself to be brave. After all, I had basically stripped for him twice before, not to mention I begged him to take me while I was drunk. That night, though, in his room, there was a sense that what we were doing held a much bigger promise than before because our intentions were real, honest, and sober.
“Are you as nervous as I am?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said.
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
He bent his head and kissed me, letting his tongue tease mine for just a moment. “I have steady hands,” he said near my ear. And it was true. I was feeling doctor hands, precise, warm, and deliberate, moving up my back. He traced an index finger down my spine to the top of my jeans as his kisses became more urgent. When we pressed our bodies together, I could feel him hard against me. I pulled away, sat down on the bed, and looked at my hands.
He stood still over me and when I finally looked up I could see that his eyes were searching mine for answers. “Are you okay, Ava?” His green eyes were still bright in the fading light. I wanted him and I knew he wanted me, but I wanted what I had felt before—the playfulness before things had become serious and full of meaning.
A few awkward moments passed and then I laughed. He broke into a grin. “I thought you were upset. Geez. Why in the world are you laughing?”
“I was thinking about how adorable you were when we were in the hot spring and I was making up that ridiculous story.”
I could tell my abrupt mood change threw him for a loop but he tried to recover. “Is that what you were thinking about just now when I was kissing you?”
He took a seat next to me on the bed and I took his hand in mine. “Well, I was just thinking how much fun I have around you and how things have been so serious since you came back.”
As though he could read my mind and knew where I was going with the conversation, he stood up and pulled me toward the kitchen. “Come on, Ava, I want to feed you.”
He poured us generous glasses of wine, and within half an hour we were joking playfully and easily, moving around the kitchen casually as he prepared dinner, warming up dishes he had made ahead of time. He put on music I wasn’t familiar with but loved. I had only really listened to country music because that’s what Jake liked. “Who is this?”
“It’s Ray LaMontagne.”
“I like it.”
“Me too. Ta-da!” He handed me a plate of lasagna over the counter. I took it and sat down at the breakfast bar.
“Tell me what you think.”
I took a bite. “It’s really good, Nate.” I lifted one eyebrow. “It tastes very similar to Bea’s lasagna.”
He grinned. “Well, she offered.”
“You said you were gonna make me dinner, cheater.”
He grinned as he sat next to me at the bar with his own plate. “How’s the wine?”
“Excellent.”
“The wine is good, the food is good, and the music is good. What’s missing?”
“Dessert?” I offered.
“Chocolate?” He took a sip of his wine, watching me over the glass mischievously as I shook my head back and forth very slowly. Leaning toward me, he whispered, “Let me have your mouth, Ava.”
I leaned in and let him kiss me. He pulled me closer, almost off my seat, and that was it—that was all it took.
All bets were off. I finally surrendered.
He reached down and pulled me up from the chair and then backed me toward the hallway, his lips never leaving mine.
CHAPTER 18
Murmur
Nathanial
She made small whimpering sounds inside of my mouth as I moved down the hall, kissing her hard as I pushed her toward my bedroom. Instead of fumbling with the buttons on her sweater, I lifted it from the bottom and pulled it over her head, then I held her away from me so I could look at her. There was a tiny pink bow in the center of her lace bra. I kissed the swell of each breast. She smelled like she always smelled, sweet but flowery. I pushed my hand into the cup of her bra and toyed with her nipple before pulling her breast out over the top of the material. Her breathing came fast and hard.