21
Kennedy
Once inside Nash’s apartment, I was met with silence and darkness. The stillness felt almost eerie, especially being there alone. I flicked on the hallway light and double-checked the lock before kicking off my heels and shrugging out of my coat.
I dropped my bag by the door and had to laugh when I spotted my size-six shoes lined up next to Nash’s. The difference was comical—mine could practically fit inside his.
I thought about changing out of my work clothes but decided to check first if there was any wine left from the bottle I’d opened the week before.
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, though, I knew Nash was up to something.
The dining table was set for two, complete with a tablecloth, tall, tapered candles, and a huge bouquet of vibrant flowers.
It had been a few weeks, and the gossip about us had mostly died down.
The sleazy sites had moved on to the next scandal.
Sure, the keyboard warriors still popped up with their nasty comments, but I did my best to steer clear of that noise.
Work kept me busy, and Nash kept me grounded.
I was at his place more often than my own these days.
I pulled open the refrigerator and found a tray of covered dishes, a salad, a cheese plate, even chocolate-covered strawberries. My curiosity spiked as I drifted over to the wine fridge. It was stocked to the brim with reds and whites, mostly white, and more than a few bottles of champagne.
“Wow,” I murmured to myself, impressed by how thoroughly he’d prepared and wondering what we were celebrating.
Pouring myself the last of the wine in the opened bottle, I wandered back to the bedroom to change.
But as soon as I entered, I stopped in my tracks.
Candles were scattered around the room—unlit, but their presence added to the romantic vibe.
The huge bed had been made with new dark-blue sheets that looked incredibly inviting.
On my side of the bed was a large box with a note pinned to it that simply read: Kennedy.
I hesitated, wondering if I should wait to open it until Nash got home. But then I figured, if he’d wanted me to wait, he wouldn’t have left it out so obviously.
Curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the lid off the box and peeled back the tissue paper to reveal a stunning red satin negligee.
It was simple but undeniably sexy, just long enough to cover my butt, with delicate spaghetti straps.
Beneath it were two more sets—one a romantic pink lace bra with matching underwear, and the other a raunchier black set.
At the bottom of the box was a long, black, and incredibly soft robe.
I stared at the contents for a moment, my mind spinning with thoughts of what Nash had in store.
“Well, damn,” I muttered to myself, realizing that Nash probably expected me to wear one of these tonight.
I decided on the raunchy black set and the robe. Why not go all out? Nash had clearly gone to great lengths to make tonight special, and if we were about to do what I thought, I’d rather look sexy than cute.
After a quick shower, I changed into the lingerie Nash had picked out.
I was a little surprised he knew my size so well because it fit perfectly.
The bra worked wonders, creating the illusion that my boobs were much bigger than they were.
The plunging neckline was anything but subtle, and the matching thong was barely there.
I glanced at myself in the full-length mirror and had to admit, I looked damn good.
I wrapped the soft black robe around me, tying it snugly at the waist, and then fixed my makeup.
As I stood at the sink, I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat—Nash had lined the tub with candles, bath oils, and lotions.
And on the shelf near the sink, where I usually put my things, was my favorite perfume, deodorant, and moisturizer.
Even my shampoo and conditioner were there, all in full-size bottles.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, realizing Nash had stocked his apartment with everything I used so I wouldn’t have to bring them back and forth. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture made my heart race, and I suddenly wanted tonight to be just as special as he’d planned.
I took my contacts out, swapped them for my glasses, and spritzed some of the perfume on all the strategic spots.
It was time to light the candles, but first, I turned on the oven to preheat and selected a bottle of pinot grigio.
After pouring myself a fresh glass of wine, I wandered over to the wall of windows in his living room.
I completely forgot about the candles as I gazed out at the city. The twinkling lights and the bustling people below were mesmerizing, and I knew I’d never get tired of that view.
“Kennedy,” Nash called out a short while later. I heard the door close behind him and the sound of his footsteps as he walked into the apartment.
“Hi, baby,” I called from the living room.
“Hey.” He dropped his bag on the floor and came straight to me.
I smiled as he approached, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves wash over me, like this was some kind of special night I couldn’t afford to mess up. “Hi,” I said again, feeling my heart race a little faster.
“I liked when you called me baby.” He smirked, flashing that famous Nash Reed grin—the one that made the photographers love him. My knees went weak from just that look. I really had it bad.
“And I like what you’ve done,” I replied, gesturing to the kitchen setup and my new outfit. The nerves melted away a little as I saw the twinkle of approval in his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I playfully twirled, letting the robe flow around my legs. I was nearly finished with my second glass of wine, and it probably showed.
Nash stepped forward and wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me close against his broad, warm chest. His cologne—that intoxicating mix I was beginning to associate with pure comfort—enveloped me.
“Mmm,” I murmured, breathing him in. Being in his arms made every bit of tension I carried melt away. The noise, the stress, the constant weight of everything outside this apartment, it all just disappeared until there was nothing left but him.
“Are we celebrating anything special?” I asked softly.
“Just me loving you,” he said with a smile that reached his eyes.
“And what about me loving you?” I asked.
“That makes everything better,” he whispered back.
I giggled, feeling light and giddy. “I didn’t know you were so romantic.”
“This is my first time trying,” he admitted before pressing his lips to mine. “How am I doing so far?”
“I’m curious to see where it’s going, but I love everything so far.” I giggled again, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Do you want to heat up the food? I already preheated the oven.”
“You, my love, are awesome.” But instead of heading to the kitchen, Nash leaned down and kissed me deeply, thoroughly, making me forget about food for the moment.
When he finally pulled away, I was left feeling swoony and a little lightheaded, completely lost in him.
“Let me put some appetizers out. You look wonderful, by the way,” Nash said, still holding on to my hand. His eyes, darker and more intense than usual, stayed fixed on me. “I wasn’t sure what to get you. Did I do okay?”
“You did amazing. I love it. I hope you will too.” I winked playfully, teasing him, and he groaned in response.
“Oh, fuck, babe. Don’t show me yet, because if you do, there’s no way we’ll be eating.”
I laughed and made my way to the refrigerator, trying to resist the urge to close the distance between us. I took out the cheese plate and set it on the island. Nash adjusted the oven and placed the tray of food inside.
“Will you have a glass of champagne with me?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
He walked over to the wine refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of champagne. “Is this one okay?”
“I’m good with whatever you pick. I don’t know much about champagne,” I admitted with a shrug. “They all taste the same to me—sweet and bubbly.”
“All right. Then this is it.” Nash expertly popped the bottle, filling our glasses with a light fizz.
I smiled at him, knowing that tonight was going to be special.
“Here,” he said, handing me a champagne flute.
His fingers brushed mine as I took it, and for a second neither of us pulled away.
He lifted his glass in a quiet toast, and I followed.
His eyes never left my face, and my breath caught under the weight of it.
His lips were on mine a heartbeat later, hot and demanding.
His arms tightened around me, and a deep, primal sound escaped his throat as my hands traveled down his back, over his strong, defined muscles.
He pulled me even closer until I could feel his growing erection against my stomach.
I knew if we didn’t stop, we wouldn’t get to dinner, and I wanted Nash to enjoy the evening he had planned.
“Nash,” I murmured, pushing gently against his chest.
He sighed, understanding, though his reluctance was clear.
“We need to eat this wonderful meal you’ve prepared.”
“I’d rather eat you,” he grumbled, but he moved to the oven to check on the food.
“There’s still time for that,” I teased, giving another playful twirl in my black robe.
Nash’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched me, clearly battling with himself. Dinner or the bedroom? In the end, his self-control won, and he gave me a smile that promised later would be worth the wait.
We barely made a dent in the cheese plate, but the chicken dish Nash had ordered was fantastic. It was full of exotic spices that paired perfectly with the rice and vegetables. There was a hint of sweetness with a tangy aftertaste that lingered.
After dinner, we cleaned up the kitchen, bumping shoulders and exchanging small smiles that only made the anticipation between us grow.
“Come with me,” Nash said finally, his voice low as he took our champagne flutes in one hand and laced the fingers of his other hand through mine, leading me down the hall.