22. Chapter 22
Lydia
Dinner has been great, and I really don’t want the evening to end. We’ve spent several hours talking and eating, and it’s the best conversation I’ve had with anyone in a long time.
Nick is smart, kind, charismatic, and so easy to talk to.
Not to mention he’s really pretty. Very fun to look at.
His eyes are a thing of beauty. I could stare into them for the rest of my life.
We don’t exactly hold hands across the table; our fingers just keep finding each other, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
And for us, it seems that it is. There’s no awkward silence.
Anytime the conversation lulls, which is rare, we sit comfortably with Nick’s fingers tracing over mine without thought.
It is all so easy.
Nick insists on walking me home, and I accept, hopefully not too eagerly.
The air is cool and crisp, the kind of night that makes me want to linger just a little longer. I should get a porch swing. It would be perfect for a night like tonight.
As we stroll side by side, I keep glancing up at Nick, marveling at how easy it feels to be with him.
His presence feels comforting, his energy wrapping around me like a well-worn blanket.
There’s something so safe and genuine between us, and I silently hope it lasts beyond tonight.
But while we feel comfortable with each other, it’s also glaringly obvious there’s a physical attraction too.
I’m grateful for the cool air because, goddamn, this man sets my body on fire.
Nick’s large, strong hand holds mine as though he’s done it a million times before. Every so often, as we walk, his hand brushes against my thigh. Each time, it sends a spark straight to my belly.
And then there’s the way he smells—cedar, clean cotton, engine grease. An intoxicating mix. Rugged and undeniably sexy.
I’m struggling to stay coherent and not completely melt into a puddle at his feet. Or jump into his arms and sloppily kiss him right here in the middle of the street. Maybe throw in some light dry humping too.
Honestly, the way I’m feeling, if his hand brushes my leg one more time, it’ll be the latter.
I have never been with a blue-collar man before, and now I’m wondering what I ever saw in He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named’s manicured nails and freshly shaven face.
He has nothing on the rugged masculinity Nick carries so effortlessly.
We walk in comfortable silence for a few moments, both of us seemingly lost in everything that’s been said tonight.
Nick breaks the silence first, his voice gentle. Almost hesitant. “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks, casting a sideways glance at me as we walk.
I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. “Yeah, I did. It was…really nice.”
The words hang between us, soft and honest.
I breathe in the faint scent of early autumn leaves and distant woodsmoke. Our footsteps fall into the same rhythm, and for once, I just exist in the moment. I resist the urge to overthink every word, every gesture. The world is just the two of us. No one else.
The night air hums with a promise I barely dare to name.
The hand Nick isn’t holding brushes his arm, my fingertips grazing him just enough to send a shiver through me. For a moment, we both hesitate, the connection hanging between us like a question. The simple touch feels intimate. I wonder if he understands how much it means to me.
He looks into my eyes, his voice low. “I did too. Thank you, Lydia.”
Anticipation flutters low against my ribs. I’m not ready for the night to end. I want it to last forever.
The now-familiar streets somehow look different. Softer, warmer. Almost like they’re holding their breath for what comes next.
We slow as we near my house, neither of us ready to let go. Both savoring the closeness that’s settled between us. As we climb the porch steps, his hand tightens around mine.
When we stop in front of my door, I turn to tell him good night.
Before I can speak, Nick lifts both hands and cups my face gently, his breathing controlled. Barely.
His thumb brushes my cheek as he inhales sharply. “Tonight was one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time, Lydia.”
“I can’t do anything about it tonight. But one night soon, whenever you’re ready, I’m going to kiss you. And if you’re okay with it, I can’t promise I’ll stop at just a kiss.”
My pulse roars in my ears.
“I want you, Lydia. In every way I can have you.”
His voice drops on the last part, deep, husky, and hitting me straight in the core. Heat pools low in my belly.
Nick leans down, barely brushing his lips against my cheek, lingering just long enough to breathe me in. Then he pulls back and looks into my eyes.
“Goodnight, Lydia. Sleep well.”
Then he’s gone, walking down my steps, hands shoved into his pockets like he didn’t just completely wreck me.
I stand here staring after him, trying to pull myself out of the haze he’s left behind.
Holy hell. Did that just happen? God, I hope so.