Chapter 18 #2
To my surprise he erupts into a hearty belly laugh.
He throws his hand over his chest like he’s trying to prevent his heart bursting from the hilarity.
He must feel his movement is restrained, because he proceeds to undo the top button of his dress shirt.
It’s immediate hypnosis when I glimpse his smooth, broad chest.
“Okay, come here. Let’s talk,” he finally says.
I drop down at least an arm’s length away. With my back braced against the couch, I tuck my knees to my chest.
“You smell nice.” Nathan steals the very words from my mouth because I was about to say the same thing about him. He’s wearing that cologne again. The one that turns me into a heat-seeking missile. “What is it?”
“Shower fizzies. Strawberries and cream. It kind of smells like?—”
“Strawberry shortcake,” Nathan finishes for me. “That’s what it is. Yours was the best I’ve ever tasted, by the way.”
I don’t know what to say. Suddenly I’m so nervous. But good nervous, like I’m at the tip of a very high diving board getting ready to jump. Below is an intimidating Olympic-sized pool. If I don’t execute my next move with precision and tact, my body will break when I crash into the water.
“The cream puffs?”
He nods. “Wish I had one right now.”
My head knocks back against the couch cushion. “You knew I was lying the whole time.”
He cackles. “Big-time.”
“Why didn’t you call me out on it?”
He looks ahead, staring at the plain wall. “Why are you trying so hard to impress me?”
“You’re a smart guy, Nate. Why do you think?”
He wets his lips, buying time before he has to respond. The waiting is agony. It’s only a few seconds, but seconds when time stops is still an eternity.
“There’s a good chance you’re holding on to something that doesn’t exist.”
There he goes again. Cryptic. Dismissive. An edge of condescension. I know what he’s thinking: silly girl and her little boy crush. “Message understood,” I reply curtly. “Let’s work at the dining table. More space.”
I rise, but quick as a flash, he grabs my hand and yanks me back down.
He swivels his hand so our embrace goes from cupped palms to interwoven fingers.
I know he can feel my trembling but I can’t help it.
All I can do is breathe, ensuring oxygen gets to my brain so I know this is real and not some fantasy I concocted.
With his free hand, Nathan grabs his phone and shows me his broken screen. “I didn’t fix it because it reminds me of that night.”
Here we go . Finally, an admission. Prince or toad?
“What are you talking about?”
He swallows hard, like the words are difficult to taste. “Eight drinks. One sip each… I remember, Spencer. I liked everything about that night except the part where you got away.”
Prince, prince, prince.
“Why didn’t you say anything? You had me questioning my sanity.”
I regret opening my mouth when he releases my hand. He raises both knees, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs while he buries his head in the lap-cave he’s created. “You met a different version of me that night. I didn’t want you to get the impression that he often makes an appearance.”
“You were faking that night?”
“No.” His answer is sure and finite. “Not that. It is a part of me, just a very small, often absent part of me.”
Boldly, I scoot a little closer. There’s still an inch between us, but I feel the heat from his body. “And who is here tonight? Nate or Nathan?”
His smirk is small. He’s trying to appreciate the inside joke, but heavier things must be on his mind. “Who would you prefer?”
“I want the guy who’s nice to me. The one who makes me laugh and smile. The one who apologizes when he offends me.”
He cinches his eyes closed and grimaces like he’s in pain. “Okay, give me your phone.”
I don’t think, I just react. Obediently, I unlock my phone before handing it over. Nathan plucks it from my hand and turns the screen so I can’t see what he’s doing.
“There.” Finished with his mission, he hands my phone back.
“What’d you do?”
Wordlessly, he picks up his own cell and dials with one tap on the screen. My phone rings loudly and vibrates in my hand. I glance down at the caller ID which now reads: It’s Nate. I’m sorry.
My shoulders shake violently as I laugh. A genuine laugh that has my heart tightening, and my lungs working hard. “Every time you call, it’s an apology?” I manage between breathy huffs.
He looks so satisfied, like the sound of my laughter is a reward. “I have some apologies to make up for and it’s best to get a few in the bank ahead of time, just in case bosshole rears his ugly head.”
“Good call.”
He slinks his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his chest. I’m transported right back to House of Blues when the charming man swept me off my feet in his VIP booth.
It had nothing to do with his money or status.
It was this feeling. I barely nibbled at my Chinese food, not wanting to derail my whole week with one cheat meal, yet I feel so damn full in his arms. A satiating warmth that pulls all my defenses down and makes me beyond vulnerable.
But somehow, for no good reason, I trust him to hold me steady.
With his free hand, Nathan curls two fingers under my chin. He strokes the tip of my nose twice with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry for being so hard on you.”
I smile at him, getting lost in his almost-turquoise eyes, the blue and green blending in a spectacle of color. “And I’m sorry for calling you all those names.”
“That’s okay. I’ll survive ‘bosshole.’”
“Oh bosshole was the tip of the iceberg, my friend. I’ve used a lot of creative names for you over the past few weeks.”
“Really? Such as?” He tightens his grip around my shoulders, drawing me closer as his eyes narrow dangerously.
“Nothing noteworthy. Just know I’m sorry.”
“Come on, sassy-mouth. Let’s hear it. I can take it.” He squeezes even harder, unintentionally showing me his strength.
“No, thanks.”
“You have no qualms talking back to me. In fact, you do it with every breath you take. Why so nervous now?”
“Because if you squeeze me any harder, I’m going to squeak like a rubber duck.
” Actually, I love the way he’s holding on to me desperately, like he’s afraid I’m going to slip away.
I’m drowning in his scent, a heady blend of citrus, amber, and a hint of leather.
I pretend to try to wiggle away, but it’s just for show.
I want to be glued to every hard angle of this man’s perfect body.
“Am I scaring you?” We’re so close that when he whispers, his breath tickles my lips.
“A little,” I lie.
“Oh, baby, don’t worry. I’d never ever hurt you.”
“I know.” I’m shocked I can muster a coherent response because this Adonis of a man just called me “baby.”
He leans in close, we’re touching nose to nose, so I have a front-row seat when he widens his eyes in warning. “I am, however, going to tickle the shit out of you.”
In the span of a heartbeat, I’m lying back on the carpet, my boss on top of me, squealing, laughing, and writhing against the floor as I try to fight him off with my heels. I’m no match, but I don’t care. Because after weeks of angsty confusion, finally …
Nathan’s hands are all over me.