Chapter 11
11
I t’s late, and I should be getting ready to go to bed.
So what the hell am I doing leaving my cozy cabin in the woods behind me and trampling through a dark forest in the middle of the night?
“Because you’re crazy,” I mutter. “And you need to learn how to stop being so impulsive.”
I don’t make it to the Blackshaw farmhouse.
The sound of footsteps heading toward me makes me pause when I’m still closer to my cabin than the house.
Nathan suddenly comes into view, and he’s as wide awake as I am.
He’s also still wearing the same clothes as before. After I pushed him down a hill, he said he has a tendency to be impulsive. Is that what this is?
“You lost?” His expression is unreadable as he stops a foot away.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I say guardedly.
We look at each other.
I’ve hurt Nathan before by saying something I didn’t mean. I don’t want to do it again by assuming my words will bounce right off this easygoing, grinning guy who doesn’t seem the least bit hurtable. Because he is.
“Clara?”
Shit. I should probably say something instead of staring at him like an idiot.
“I wanted to thank you for the stuff you got me.” I gesture toward the cabin. “You didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”
Unlike whoever furnished the motel room, Nathan didn’t cheap out at all when he hit that boutique on our way to Hardin. All the clothes he picked out in a record time shopping splurge were top quality.
In the bag I emptied onto my bed, I found three pairs of jeans, two tops, dresses, a sweater, and underwear.
I don’t know a lot about fashion, but I recognize quality. Paige denim jeans. Reformation tops and a couple of simple day dresses. Victoria’s Secret bra set and panties. J-Crew nightwear. And a pair of Chuck sneakers.
Everything is in neutral tones, so I can mix and match.
He did a better job of shopping than I ever did.
And the price must have left a big dent in his bank balance when one pair of jeans alone was three hundred dollars.
This feeling of being spoiled is new and strange. Nathan told me about the bag so offhand, like it wasn’t a big deal when it’s a massive deal to me. And he did it all after I wasn’t just a bitch to him. I was a downright asshole.
It doesn’t matter that I left all my clothes back in Dawley. I have everything I need, including a refrigerator full of food so I can eat in the cabin on my own if I want, or go to the house and eat with the Blackshaws.
He shrugs. “Figured you might need some stuff. If you need more, let me know.”
I won’t. Because while I was exploring my cabin, I found sweaters and comfy cozy sweatpants and T-shirts that Savannah must have left in the dresser for me. She even filled the bathroom with toiletries, including a hairbrush and hair ties.
We stare at each other.
“It wasn’t just scratching the itch,” I blurt out.
Something in his gaze shifts. “What wasn’t?”
“The motel room. I said it to push you away, but I didn’t mean it.” I shift from foot to foot, awkward and embarrassed. “I, uh, have a tendency to lash out at people when they try to get me to talk about things I’d rather avoid. Ask Martha. She once threw a shoe at my head.”
That same flicker of emotion returns. When it lingers, I read what it is: relief, tinged with amusement. “A shoe?”
I nod. “It was the only thing close by. And I totally deserved it for being a bitch.”
“Ah.” He tilts his head, still studying me. “I hoped that was what the motel room was about, but I wasn’t sure.”
I struggle to look him in the eye when I ask, “So, am I forgiven for being a bitch?”
Martha gets me, but Nathan might not. I’m not sure why I’m holding my breath as I wait for his response. But this feels very important to me. So important I couldn’t go to sleep.
“There’s nothing to forgive, peach. You weren’t so much being a bitch as being guarded, and that’s okay. I get it.” He holds out his palm. “Friends?”
After a beat, I take it, squeezing his hand. “Friends. And peach?” My eyes narrow as I hide my smile and my relief. “You’re asking for trouble for that nickname, Blackshaw.”
His eyes dip to my lips. “What kind of trouble?”
I recall how good it felt being with him in the motel room. Not just sleeping together. The after part as well. His arm around me. The way he was drawing circles at the base of my spine as I dozed off before I said something I didn’t mean and ruined it.
Is he thinking of the same thing as well from the heat in his gaze? Is he also wishing it hadn’t been a one time thing like I am?
“If we were to sleep with each other again, it wouldn’t mean anything, would it?” I ask.
“No,” he says, stepping forward. “Just us having fun.”
“Should we, uh, count down like before?” I suggest.
I don’t count down. Neither does he. We lunge at each other.
I’m in his arms a split second later, our lips fused together.
“But after this no more,” I break the kiss to say.
“Just once more, and we call it quits.” He reclaims my lips.
I will never know how we make it back to the cabin without Nathan tripping or walking into a tree when we spend most of the walk with our lips glued together.
I fumble to get the cabin door open as he pushes my T-shirt up.
We don’t time things well. At all.
I shove the door open as he presses me against the door, apparently too impatient for us to get inside. Obviously, the door is no longer there because I just shoved it open.
We tip. He spins us so his back is what smacks into the floor, not mine.
I break the kiss, concerned. “Blackshaw?”
He strokes his hand under my shirt and pulls me down. “I’m good. Come here.”
We don’t make it to bed the first time. Good thing no one stops by the cabin because we don’t even remember to close the door.
We fight to get each other’s clothes off and I straddle Nathan on the cabin floor as he does the sexy growl I have grown addicted to.
After that?
It’s a blur.
All I know is we’re both bleary-eyed as Nathan picks me up off the floor and carries me to the bed before he’s kissing me again.
The next morning, I wake up first.
“I feel you watching me,” Nathan says, eyes closed.
“I’m pondering my life choices.”
He opens his eyes and turns to look at me. “What kind of life choices?”
“Like why I haven’t kicked you out of my bed.”
“And your response?”
I search his face, thinking hard. “I’m not sure.”
He kisses me. It’s so soft and perfect that I instantly return it. “And now?”
My eyes flutter closed as I loop my arms around his neck. “Haven’t formed a decision yet. Need more conclusive evidence to decide.”
He smiles. “Any particular kind of proof?”
“Uh…”
He angles down. “Because there are one or two things I could do to?—”
A knock sounds at the door.
I shove him off the bed and jump up, stuffing a shirt over my head as I rush to answer it. “ Coming !”
It’s Dayne. And it is still so early I recoil from the bright sunlight.
I try to look casual. From his arched eyebrow, I figure I have some work to do. “Uh, hi! Dayne. Something wrong?”
“I was looking for Nate. None of us can find him, and it’s not like him to be up so early. He’s like Talis. Morning sunlight is like kryptonite to them. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“Nate? No. Never seen him before.”
He stares at me, then slowly backs up. “Right. If you see him, then let him know I’m looking for him.”
“Will do,” I promise.
His eyes flick over my shoulder and he blinks, then he walks away before I can decipher his expression.
I close the door, relieved I got away with it.
Until I turn around.
Nathan is lying in the middle of my bed, not doing a damn thing to hide his nudity. Which means Dayne saw him. He knew I was lying, yet he said nothing.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
His gaze dips. “Trying to persuade you to come back to bed.”
“No. We have to stop doing…” I gesture toward him as my eyes keep wanting to slide south instead of sticking to his face. “ This . We have to stop it before everyone finds out.”
His expression tightens, and I mentally curse myself.
I walk over to him and thump on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t mean that. I’m confused.”
The mattress squeaks, but I keep my eyes resolutely pointed at the ceiling.
“About?” he asks.
When I peek over at him, he’s angled his head to face me, and he looks serious.
“You.”
“What have I done to confuse you?”
“I’m not sure.”
He studies me for a beat, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
Sighing, I pat my hair down. “It looks like a squirrel was just living in my hair, huh?”
His smile is faint. “Close. An owl.”
I laugh. “That makes no sense.”
He studies me for a little longer. “How about we just see what happens?”
“This was supposed to be a onetime thing, Blackshaw,” I remind him.
“Yes, but some things are not one time things.” He traces my lip with one finger, a surprisingly ticklish sensation. I laugh and bat his hand aside. He smiles. “Maybe this is something else.”
Maybe.
Then he kisses me, which kills my desire to get out of bed. So instead of climbing out of it, I crawl over Nathan Blackshaw, grip my shirt and ease it over my head.
He licks his lips as he cups my breasts. “I had plans to romance you.”
My eyes pop. “ Romance me ?”
“There are a couple of things I’m not confused about. Things that make perfect sense to me.”
“Like what?”
He eases me onto my back. “Things like we’re good together.” He kisses me. “So good, it makes sense we stay together.”
He leans in again. I press my palms on his chest, halting him. “And if I don’t want to be romanced? If I don’t think we’re good together.”
“Then I get up and walk out.”
I snort. “So I can nearly trip over you like I did back in Rosenwood?”
His expression is serious. “So tell me to go, and you won’t be tripping over me again, Clara.”
Silence lingers between us.
I still have my palms on his chest and I push him.
But not away. Because he’s right. We are good together. He makes me laugh. He makes me moan as if he knows exactly how to please me, and when I hurt him, it hurts me too.
I’ve had a taste of Nathan Blackshaw and I’m not sure I’m ready or even willing to let him go so soon.
I push him until I have him flat on his back, and I kiss him.
And when he fists his hand in my hair and tries to keep me there, I don’t let him. I break away to kiss his jaw. His throat. His chest.
Nathan keeps a hand in my hair, his eyes glued to my face as I kiss a steady, and very deliberate path down his body, like he’s afraid to blink and miss even a second of what I’m doing to him.
I stop short though, wanting to torment him a little first.
“Clara?”
“Hmm?”
“Quit playing with my belly button and do what you’re down there to do.”
I lift my head and scowl at him. “That sounds an awful lot like entitlement coming out of your mouth, Blackshaw.”
I kiss his belly button again.
He groans. “Clara…”
“What?” I stick my tongue in his belly button.
He laughs and tugs my hair. “What in the hell, woman…”
He’s grinning down at me, one hand in my hair still, as I lower my head and do exactly what I kissed my way down his body to do.
I part my mouth, and, holding his gaze, I keep a tight seal as I slide my mouth down him, taking him deep.
“ Fuck .” His eyes roll back, breath hisses out between his clenched teeth, and his fingers tighten in my hair. I do exactly what I intended to do. I play with Nathan as he thrusts, groans, and thrusts again.
My name is a groan on his lips. Then a growl. Then a plea.
I answer that plea with a longer suck, holding my breath as I bob my head until the tip of him touches the back of my throat.
Nathan has both hands in my hair, groaning as his hips lift off the bed. He holds himself there for a second, then he pulls away.
He puts me exactly where he wants me, on my knees, ass up, and covers my body with his. Using one thigh to nudge my legs open, he mounts me, and some secret part of me loves the way it feels when he does it.
He wraps an arm around my middle and thrusts inside me. One stroke opens me up completely. I hadn’t realized I was so wet, but he slides right into the hilt, making us both moan.
Pressing my face into the bed, I grip the pillow with both hands as he drives into me like there’s no way he’ll ever get as deep as he wants to go, but he’s determined to try.
I stop caring about this being a onetime thing.
I stop thinking about ever leaving this cabin ever again.
All I can do is cling to my pillow, using it to muffle my moans, then my scream as Nathan drives me into one orgasm, gives me a few seconds to recover, then starts thrusting again.
A couple of hours later, Nathan pats my ass and squeezes. “Up, woman. Time for that romance I promised you.”
I lift my face off the bed and glare at him. “If that was the start of your romance, you’ve failed already. Starting with an ass grab flunked you. There’s no coming back from it.”
And I lie back down.
His hand strokes down my back and rests on my spine. “Clara Vincent?”
“Hmmm,” I hum, enjoying his caress far more than I should have.
“Your breakfast is getting cold.”
Breakfast ?
Now that he mentions it, my stomach is grumbling in response to a yummy savory scent in the air.
I lift my head.
Nathan claims a kiss and gets to his feet, crossing over to the kitchen/dining room part of my cabin. And on the table is breakfast.
My eyes widen in surprise. “You made breakfast?”
“A man knows romance has to start the right way. How about a run in the forest followed by a picnic? I might even be tempted to let you win.”
I hesitate. “And if I don’t want romance?”
He walks over to me, expression impossible to read. He drops into a crouch and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, leaning in to give me an impossibly sweet kiss. “You’ll want romance from me.”
I scowl at him, but it’s all fake. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to see exactly what this romance entails. “You sound pretty damn sure of yourself, Blackshaw.”
“I am.”
I take in the amiable smile on his face and sense he’s concealing a world of stubborn determination.
I sit up. “Fine. Let’s see how Nathan Blackshaw romances a woman.”
No sooner am I on my feet than he’s stepping in close, his arm around my waist and his brown eyes glinting with the determination I thought he was hiding from me. “Correction. How Nathan Blackshaw romances Clara Vincent.”
My mouth is dry. “And is it so very different to anyone else?”
“It is.”
He releases me, pulling his shirt off, which briefly distracts me.
“Arms up,” he softly orders.
I rarely respond well to orders. I’ve always liked to do things my own way, but Nathan’s soft order?
I lift my arms.
One corner of his lips kicks up in a grin. “I was expecting an elbow jab.”
“I like to keep you on your toes, Blackshaw.”
He flashes me a grin and slips his shirt over my head, kissing me and leads me over to the table for breakfast.
I sit in his lap because, according to Nathan, each bite during a romantic breakfast should come with a kiss after.
Honestly, it just leads to a cold breakfast.
It also leads to one of those kisses distracting me so badly that I forget about breakfast. So does Nathan because he lifts me enough to shove his pants down and I ride him at the breakfast table until we both come.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says, out of breath, with one hand splayed low on my back as I slump against his chest.
“Really?” I snuggle against him, wishing we could go back to bed.
“Really. Come on. Let's go for this walk, peach.”
I loop my arms around his shoulders and meet his gaze. “And if I wanted to work out in other horizontal ways?”
One long stare and he sighs. “I’ve created a sex-crazed monster.”
I growl at him.
His eyes turn hooded. “Did you just growl at me?”
From the heat in his gaze, I foresee where things might be going. “Maybe.”
“Maybe we could skip this walk,” he says, leaning in to kiss me.
Just to be contrary, I evade his kiss and pat his chest before rising. “Come on, Blackshaw. Let’s see about this walk.”
Nathan grins at me like I did exactly what he wanted.
A part of me can’t help but wonder if he just played me.