Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
SIXPENCE NONE THE RICHER — KISS ME
We arrived in Amalfi in the early hours of the morning.
Nolan tried to play it off, but I could tell he was exhausted by the yawns that were beginning to punctuate his sentences.
The last time I’d checked my tracking app, Molly was stationed at a hotel near the Cathedral of St. Andrew, so I suggested we get a room there, too, and try to track her down first thing in the morning.
“We can’t go banging on every door to find her, and I doubt reception will just tell us which room she’s in,” I’d pointed out, and he agreed. “Besides, we should rest.”
So, I booked a room online—well, one room for each of us; I didn’t want to be presumptuous. Except when we reach the reception desk, the concierge looks concerned as he pulls up our reservation.
“You said you booked two rooms?” he asks, frowning.
“Um…yes?” I pull out my phone to show him the confirmation email, but I notice a new notification from the booking site. “Oh…I just got an email that one of the rooms was canceled. Is that right?” Relief washes over the man’s face.
“Ah, that’s why I’m only seeing one. We’ve had an issue with our system recently, I apologize. We can give you one room, but unfortunately, it’s the only one available at this time.”
I flick my eyes to Nolan, who shrugs. “I have no problem sharing a room.”
“Alright,” I nod, “we’ll take it.”
“Excellent!” The man swipes a key card and slips it into a little white folio, jotting down the room number on its jacket. “Your room is on the top floor. It’s…cozy, but it has the nicest views.”
I know what he is trying to say—something like, “We’ve stuck you in a broom closet because we want your money but don’t have any decent rooms left.”
Nolan and I both thank the man and then make our way to the stairs. He takes my gear bag from me, carrying both his bag and my own.
“Well, now I feel very unhelpful,” I whine, empty-handed.
“If you want something to do while we climb the stairs, you can check out my ass,” he croons, giving me a little wink before turning away. I blush and try to contain the smile that Nolan’s flirtatious words always seem to coax out of me.
But as he hauls our bags up to the top floor, I don’t deny myself the opportunity to do exactly what he suggested.
“I was going to say I can sleep on the floor, but…I’m not actually sure there’s enough floor for me to sleep on.”
Nolan’s tone is playful, but I notice a thread of concern weaving beneath his words as we survey our room.
Like I had anticipated, it’s small. Very small. And, of course, there’s only one double bed.
For some reason, I had expected two beds. That’s what my hotel room in Rome had. And apparently Nolan had been banking on there being enough available space for him to throw a pillow on the floor, which…there isn’t.
Not that I don’t want to share a bed with Nolan.
Rather, it’s the opposite—I want to. Desperately.
Despite the fact that I shouldn’t. My focus is supposed to be on finding Molly, on keeping my job. Kissing him is one thing, but our bodies lying next to each other in such a vulnerable state? It’s just asking for temptation. And I don’t know if I have that kind of restraint.
So, logically, I shouldn’t be offended by him not wanting to share a bed and not wanting to distract me more than he already has. And yet…
It must be the lack of sleep, because before I can filter myself, I blurt out, “Do you not want to sleep with me?”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I slap my hand over my mouth. Nolan turns to me with a wry smile.
“Is that an invitation?”
Shit!
My cheeks must be burning the brightest shade of crimson; I can feel the heat creeping across my skin. I ignore his comments and push past him to check out a tall, thin wardrobe in the corner of the room.
“Yes—er, no…not like that. I just mean, you seem awfully against sharing a bed with me. Why would I make you sleep on the floor?”
He chuckles, following me into the room and pulling the door shut behind him.
“I was trying to be a gentleman.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
” I hear him lower our bags to the floor as I crouch to plug in my phone charger.
At least Nolan was clinging harder to the idea of not crossing any boundaries.
“That’s not to say that, if given the opportunity, I wouldn’t share that bed with you.
But I’ll be honest, Chloe—I don’t know that we’ll be doing much sleeping if I’m that physically close to you…
not after the way you were running your nails up and down my neck in the car earlier. ”
Well…shit.
There go those boundaries.
His words crackle through me like lightning, settling into a simmer at my core.
After a long drive full of flirting and teasing, stolen glances lit by the flickering of passing streetlights, and restrained touches, it feels like the tension between us is so supercharged that all subtlety is gone, replaced instead with clear intention and desire laid bare.
I turn to face him, hoping to catch his gaze, but he’s looking down at his phone.
“You can’t just say something like that to a girl and then check your damn text messages!” I sputter, but then the gentle twang of guitar fills the small room as he tosses his phone on the bed. I tilt my head, confused. “What are you…?”
“May I?” His voice is so casual, but the way he’s looking at me is heated and heavy.
Nolan holds out a steady hand, the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, but there’s a softness in his deep green eyes that makes me wonder if whatever this is between us isn’t just a fun fling, isn’t just flirting and sneaking around when we should be focused on our jobs.
“You want to dance with me?” I ask, a note of giddy surprise in my voice that I can’t hide, no matter how hard I try.
“When we were talking about movies in the car, you mentioned something about the dance scenes in rom-coms being your favorite. So, I figured—we’re in one of the most romantic cities in Italy. Why not dance?”
I struggle to hide my smile. I hadn’t actually told Nolan that those scenes are my favorite parts of romantic comedies—not explicitly, anyway.
I had started by listing my favorite songs from the ’90s, then into the ’00s, and then noted that most of those songs had actually been used in scenes where the leads finally danced together.
He must have read between the lines.
I immediately recognize the song as Sixpence None the Richer’s ‘Kiss Me,’ and a long-buried part of myself wakes up—the part that loved rewatching The Princess Diaries over and over again just to see Clarisse and her bodyguard, Joe, dance together, or Princess Mia spinning on the dance floor in her gown and tiara.
Without hesitation, I slip my fingers into Nolan’s hand and stand as gracefully as I can at 3 AM, when my body wants nothing more than to be asleep.
His smile is radiant as he drops his hand to gently rest at the small of my back, and he pulls me in closer, the heat of his body making my pulse break into a gallop.
To be honest, I’m pretty sure I nearly black out. Because Nolan is acting out every ’90s girl’s fantasy of dancing to this song with a sweet, gorgeous guy.
Not that we actually dance so much as sway—there’s not enough room to even attempt anything other than that—but I don’t mind. Because it means I can rest my head on his chest to hide my blazing cheeks and listen to the steady thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat.
“Is this the kind of dancing you were talking about?” he muses, resting his chin on the top of my head.
“Not quite,” I laugh. “But it’ll do.”
We’re quiet for a few moments as we sway, the twinkling lights of the town below visible through the open window. I exhale a contented sigh, but there’s a question on the tip of my tongue, itching to be asked.
“Hey, so…when we were in your office, you said that you liked me…”
“Mhmm,” he hums in confirmation, so as not to interrupt my train of thought.
“And—look, this isn’t me fishing for compliments, I swear, but…
can I ask why? I mean, I know I’m incredibly funny, based on how often I make you laugh,” I quip sarcastically, trying to play off my keen embarrassment.
“But you…you’re the kind of person who brightens any room they’re in.
You’re optimistic and good-natured. You see the best in people.
And I just feel like I’m this little cartoon storm cloud that can’t stop thundering. ”
A low chuckle spills from Nolan; the rumble reverberating in his chest such a soothing sound that I find myself closing my eyes while I wait for him to answer.
“Believe it or not, Chloe, but you’re not as dark and twisty as you think.”
“I resent that,” I huff in mock indignation.
“Look, if I’m being honest, when we first met, I was drawn to your…
” he pauses, searching for the right word, “…flustered chaos. It was cute. Endearing. Also, I liked the way your ass looked in those cargo pants on the dock. What can I say? I’m drawn to a beautiful woman in tight-fitting workwear. It’s not rocket science.”
I giggle into his chest, secretly pleased to hear him compliment my body. I’m not vain, but it happens so rarely that it feels nice to be noticed in that way.
“But as I got to know you better, I found that you’re also incredibly easy to talk to, and while you may be discerning, I never feel judged by you,” Nolan continues.
“Hmmm…what else? Oh—you’re passionate about what you do, and I love that.
Even if you’re feeling a little uninspired right now.
Plus—and this one may come as a surprise—you genuinely care about people.
I can tell just by the way you talk to Sora.
You never make her feel stupid, or like she doesn’t belong, like you sometimes see in my line of work with the newbies.
You recognized her need for a mentor, so you became one. ”
His words are like a balm—healing the parts of myself that have felt small, scared, and shameful.
As I neared my thirties, each day I wasn’t where I wanted to be left me more jaded and angry.
I hadn’t always felt that way, and I knew that, but it was so hard to see past the solid brick wall I had built to keep the world out, shielding them from seeing my failures, but also sealing me in, alone, with my disappointments.
Nolan steps back from me and lifts his arm up over my head as he guides me into an awkward twirl. I laugh and tumble into him as I complete the spin, settling back into his firm chest.
“Your storm cloud isn’t who you are, Chloe. It’s just weather—and weather changes. But even if it doesn’t, I actually love getting caught in the rain. So, storm all you want, baby. I’m just going to find a way to enjoy it.”
Nolan brushes a lock of hair out of my face, and his hand pauses at my cheek, the softest whisper of a touch sending a shiver throughout my body.
I feel like we’re teetering on the brink of something transcendent—like standing on the edge of a cliff, poised to dive into the water below, even if we can’t see what’s hidden beneath the surface.
Even though my last relationship ended a few years ago, I’ve had men in my bed—nights of tangled limbs, need, and emptiness pawing at me until I felt sated enough to sleep.
But what’s happening between Nolan and me is a level of intimacy I’m completely unfamiliar with, and it leaves me feeling a little vulnerable, my stomach twisting into nervous knots.
Something changes in Nolan’s eyes then, and he drops his mouth to my ear.
“Let me show you just how much I like you,” he rasps, his breath tickling the sensitive skin beneath my ear.
There’s a subtle note of concern in his voice, as if he’s afraid I’ll say no.
But he’s clearly a fool if he isn’t already aware of how completely and utterly head-over-fucking-heels I am for him.
And how much I want this.
“Alright,” I breathe, my words barely a whisper above the pounding of my pulse.
And then his lips crash into mine.