Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
S unlight hitting my naked skin roused me from sleep, a contrast to the cool sheets I was tangled in.
This time when I woke up in Nathan's apartment, I wasn't confused or disoriented. I awoke feeling lazy, relaxed and content.
Nathan was next to me, still deep asleep. I shifted carefully, so as not to wake him up. I leaned on my elbow, staring at the sandy-blond hair falling over his cheeks and covering his closed eyelids. His lips were slightly parted, pink and utterly kissable. He looked so innocent.
The handcuffs and blindfold on his nightstand belied that image.
I didn't know how long I laid there, watching him sleep. Long enough for fuzzy butterflies to fill my stomach. Also, long enough for my bladder to complain.
I eventually slipped out of bed, grabbing a spare pair of Nathan's boxers and a t-shirt to get cleaned up. The purple toothbrush I had used before was in the cup next to his blue one. It was so domestic. Those warm fuzzies exploded into near giddiness.
As I stepped into the shower, I made a mental note not to get ahead of myself. That Nathan and I were seeing each other had been agreed upon, but that didn't necessarily mean we were anything more serious. Certainly, the words boyfriend and girlfriend hadn't yet touched his lips.
Before, I hadn't known if I'd wanted them to. I'd been so conflicted. But now, after having talked to him, those fears inside me had quieted. I was going to stop worrying and fretting. I was going to enjoy my time with him.
I would take things one day at a time.
After I'd gotten dressed in Nathan's clothes, I started to make my way to the kitchen. I stopped when I saw a door in the hallway half-ajar. I'd assumed it was a closet, but through the crack I could see a leather sofa and a guitar in its stand.
I poked my head in further. The room didn't just have one guitar. There were more than half a dozen, in all different styles and colors. Three were acoustic. I found myself drawn to those, with those shiny wood finishes. I went up to one and plucked at a string. It reverberated with a deep thrum. I quickly pressed my palm to the strings to quiet it, not wanting to wake Nathan yet.
The leather sofa looked overstuffed and comfy, and there were pages of music sheets scattered across a coffee table.
This must have been his music room, where Nathan wrote his songs. In the early morning quiet, the room felt oddly sacred.
I stayed a few more moments, soaking in the atmosphere, before leaving and closing the door behind me. I didn't want to disturb anything, and I didn't know how Nathan would feel about me being in there. Maybe he didn't like anybody else in his work space. Although I wanted to explore more, I also didn't want to invade his privacy.
I glanced toward the bedroom. Nathan was still sound asleep, although he'd tossed the sheets aside and his naked backside was visible.
I wasn't ashamed to admit I spent some time admiring the view.
Since he was still dead to the world, I decided I would repay his favor from last time and make him breakfast. After downing my morning meds with a glass of water from the tap, I started exploring food options. When I opened his fridge, I was almost surprised with how much I had to work with. The choice was overwhelming. He'd made scrambled eggs last time so I figured it was a safe bet.
As I cracked the eggs, whisked them and poured them into the frying pan, I kept replaying the previous night's events in my head.
I'd never experienced something like that before. I'd never thought someone like me ever would. After my first boyfriend, I'd pretty much given up on the idea of relationships. Trusting anyone enough to let them tie me up was out of the question.
But everything was different with Nathan.
The smell of something burning distracted me from my thoughts. I looked down at the pan to see the eggs smoking. I hurried to remove them from the stove and turn down the heat, but it was too late.
"Dammit," I groaned. I'd ruined what was supposed to be a thoughtful breakfast in bed.
Arms hugged me from behind and soft lips placed a kiss on my neck. Nathan's rich, earthy smell surrounded me. He hadn't showered yet, but I loved that sleep-warmed scent. I inhaled deeply, taking it in, immediately relaxing.
"Did you burn breakfast?" he teased.
"Sorry," I replied, crestfallen. "I was going to surprise you."
He laughed and squeezed my middle. "You're sweet."
"I never had to learn to cook," I said. "I guess I sort of suck."
"Then you can leave the cooking to me. I learned from the best."
"Your mom?" I guessed.
"Before she got sick, she used to make me watch her in the kitchen. Then, with the cancer…" he trailed off sadly. "Anyway. I got used to cooking for her."
I could imagine a smaller, younger Nathan standing on a stool to reach the counter, lips pursed and brows drawn down as he concentrated hard on chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and checking the oven. I wondered how young he would have been when he first started taking care of her. There hadn't been anyone else around to help. It had just been him.
My heart ached for Nathan, the beginnings of tears pricking the back of my eyes. I blinked them away before he could see and turned a sunny smile on him.
"Maybe you could teach me?" I asked.
"I don't know how good of a teacher I'd be," he said, "but we could give it a go. Maybe let's stick to toast and peanut butter for now, though?"
"Got any jam, instead?" I asked hopefully. "I got sick of eating peanut butter after forcing it down for so long to fatten myself up."
He kissed the top of my head. "I've got three different kinds."
After making the toast and spreading our respective condiments, we sat at the island counter, munching away. We didn't talk much, just exchanged besotted looks and played footsies. We were being so cute it was almost sickening, and I enjoyed every minute of it.
"What are your plans for the day?" Nathan asked.
"I've got a volunteer shift later this afternoon, but my morning is free."
"I've got to go into the studio after lunch, but I'm free until then if you want to hang."
"And by hang , do you mean more sexy times?"
He lips curved into a wicked smile as his toe slid its way up from my foot and up my leg.
"Oh shit," I cursed as a sudden thought occurred to me. "I need to make sure my parents aren't looking for me. They probably think I'm still asleep, but if they knocked on the apartment door and I didn't answer, they might freak."
A worried look crossed Nathan's face. I hurried to the living room where I'd dropped my purse at the front door and pulled out my phone. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"No messages," I said. "If they were really worried, they would have tried calling or texting."
His worried look didn't fade.
"I hate the idea that we're sneaking around," he said.
I went over to where he was perched on the bar stool. This time it was my turn to press a kiss to his head.
"I'll tell them today," I promised.
He nodded, the line in his forehead smoothing. He quirked an eyebrow. "So. Sexy times?"
"Actually…" I wondered whether to ask, but decided there wasn't any harm. He could always say no. "I was wondering if you could show me your music room? I wasn't snooping," I hurried to say. "The door was open and I saw guitars and music sheets. Is that where you write your songs?"
He lowered his eyes, looking embarrassed. "Yeah. That's where I write my solo stuff. I don't want to be doing it in the recording studio yet. I'm not ready to show everyone."
"Will you show me?"
He hesitated. "You really want to hear my shit?"
"I'd love to hear your, as you call it, shit ." I gave him a smile. "Although I'm positive it won't be."
He hopped from the stool. "You have such faith in me."
"How about this," I said. "I'll be totally honest with you. If it sucks, I'll say so. If I say it's amazing, you have to believe me. Deal?"
He looked nonplussed, but nodded. "Deal."
I followed him to the music room. He sat me on the sofa, grabbed an acoustic guitar, the same one I'd plucked at, and took a seat next to me.
He didn't say anything before starting to play, not explaining anything about the song beforehand. He just began to strum.
There were no words, just a soft hummed melody. As he played, I concentrated hard on the notes, really listening.
I didn't know much about the technical side of music, but I knew what music could make me feel. And this song made me feel so much. It was almost sad, filling me with a sense of melancholy, but it was somehow uplifting at the same time. By the end, there was an almost hopeful feel to the music. Just like in the kitchen, when I'd imagine a baby-faced Nathan cooking for his mom, tears stung my eyes.
It was in that moment I knew for sure.
I'd fallen for Nathan Walker.
And I couldn't even bring myself to worry about it.
He finished, laying his hands flat against the body of the guitar. He looked at me expectantly.
"So?" he asked easily, although I could see the nervous glint in his eyes.
"I loved it," I said, my voice thick with emotion.
He looked surprised. "You're not just saying that to stroke my ego?"
"Your ego doesn't need stroking. It was really good. You should play it for your band members."
"Maybe," he said doubtfully.
"Definitely," I countered. "In fact, I'll be upset if this song isn't on the next Cherry Lips album. And you wouldn't want to upset me, would you?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "The songs for the next album have already been chosen. But maybe I could do a single solo release or something."
"I'll be the first in line to buy it," I told him.
"I thought you weren't a fan?" he teased.
"I've come to appreciate your many talents."
Nathan shifted closer on the sofa, until we were face to face.
" All my talents?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Certain ones more than others," I acknowledged. I fisted my fingers in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him to me. "In fact, maybe you could show off some more?"
He leaned closer, bringing his mouth close to mine. "I thought you hated my big ego?"
"It's not ego if it's true," I murmured, echoing some of the very first words he'd ever said to me. "Maybe you should prove yourself to me."
Nathan's only response was to push me back into the sofa cushions and give me a thorough demonstration of his skills.