Chapter 2 #2
My cock strains against my pants, so much that I'm starting to fear the seams will burst. And when Nadine rests her elbow on my thigh, I'm seconds away from an orgasm.
I guess the first order of business when we get back to our bedroom is take a long cold shower.
At dessert, Nadine makes me grab one of each—churros, caramel empanada, flan, a slice of Tres Leches cake, and some strawberries with cream to name a few. She, of course, only eats her favorites while I have to finish those she didn't like.
In the middle of biting a tamale with nuts and fruits inside, Tara leans over and grins at us.
"Your husband is a little obsessed with you, isn't he?"
Nadine opens her mouth to answer, but I beat her to it.
"Yeah," I say, looking at Tara. "I absolutely am."
Tara's smile widens. She has just handed me a moment, and I'm taking it.
I cup Nadine's jaw with one hand. My thumb rests at the corner of her cheekbone, tipping her face up to mine. I've never been this close to her, though God knows how many times I've imagined it in my head.
As so many filthy thoughts bounce around my skull, I capture her mouth with mine.
The first contact is supposed to be brief, a performance for everyone to see. It is immediately not that, because she makes a sound against my mouth—a small gasp—and that sound is the last thing I register from the outside world for the duration of this kiss.
My hand tightens on her jaw.
My other hand, which was on the back of her chair, moves to her waist. Her ribcage rises when she inhales, and I feel it under my palm. I hold my hand there.
Fuck.
Kissing Nadine ignites fireworks in every inch of my body; my nerve endings are firing with sparks.
She turns toward me—not staying still, not waiting for it to end, turning into it—and her hand comes up to my chest and rests there, just above my racing heartbeat. She can feel it, I'm sure.
The logical part of my brain knows that dinner continues around us, but the illogical part is too focused on her, her mouth, and the sound she makes. The whole place could collapse and burn, and I still won't break this kiss.
Years of lusting after her but repressing my feelings have arrived at a breaking point, and this is it. Right here.
I can never kiss her like this again, so I'll take what I can get.
By the time we pull apart, I'm an absolute mess. My plans to behave have gone up in flames. I should have fucking known. My usual defenses were always useless against her.
On the verge of going mad from desire, I curl my thoughts around the taste of her. It's equally satisfying but not enough. Never enough. I want more of her.
Across the room, over Nadine's shoulder, Derek is staring daggers at us.
Fuck off, asshole. You got your chance and blew it. I'm not squandering mine.
Nadine's eyes open, and the dinner noise comes back all at once.
Tara makes a sound of pure approval. "I want whatever this is," she says, waving a finger back and forth, gesturing between us. "Tell me, Nadine, what exactly were the words of the prayer you said when you asked for this guy?"
Nadine laughs and says something about the honeymoon phase not ending that I don't fully catch because I'm tuned out, just looking at her mouth. I can't seem to stop doing that. I know I'm supposed to play a part, and I bet I'm playing it well, but I need to stop lying to myself.
I've wanted Nadine since forever. When I saw her for the first time, it felt like coming home.
I pick up my water glass and take a drink.
Nadine is very deliberately looking at her wine glass. Her cheek has a flush that wasn't there before, and neither of us says anything about the kiss.
Nadine stops laughing, goes quiet, and buries herself in her wine, taking a long sip. She stands, steadies herself for a second, holding the back of her chair. She looks at me, bites her lower lip, takes a deep breath, then turns, looking flustered.
"I need to take a moment," she glides off while I sit watching her drift away. My instinct is to follow, but I brace myself. She obviously needs her space right now.
I fiddle with my napkin, looking at the faces around the table.
I see mouths moving, people smiling, laughing, and gesturing, but I'm sitting in a silent movie.
In my head, I've muted my life's soundtrack, blocking out everything except the sensation of Nadine's mouth.
The connection that I felt, and I'm sure she also experienced, has taken up full-time residence in my mind.
As the dinner winds down, we say goodnight to Tara. I do a final check on Derek—on his phone, not looking up—and we follow the stone path back toward the room block.
For nine years, I carried her furniture, answered her calls, and made dinner in Rachel's kitchen while she described Derek in terms that required significant effort to listen to without comment. That is the most sustained exercise in self-control I have ever performed.
I kissed her tonight in front of the wedding party because someone gave me two seconds and I took them. The sound Nadine made is the thing I'm going to be hearing for the rest of my days, which is on me, because I'm the one who kissed her. And didn't stop.
I am going to feel terrible about this for a month … or maybe my whole life, but Jesus, it's so fucking worth it.
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