34. Chapter 34
Lydia
Iwake up slowly, wrapped in a heavy warmth.
For a disorienting second, I stay very still, my mind trying to shake off the fog of sleep as I take in my surroundings. I feel a solid arm around my waist and a steady breath against the back of my neck. The mattress dips behind me, close enough I can feel the heat of him even in sleep.
Nick.
The realization settles gently instead of crashing. He is still here, asleep, his hold loose but instinctive, as though he reached for me during the night and hasn’t let me go since.
Morning light filters through the curtains, pale and quiet, illuminating the simple, unbelievable truth.
He hasn’t left.
My chest tightens, not with fear this time, but with something softer. Fuller.
I shift just slightly, testing the moment. His arm tightens in response, pulling me closer with a low, half-asleep sound in his throat.
I smile into the pillow.
“Good morning,” I murmur, barely above a whisper.
His breath hitches, and he stirs, waking up behind me. His grip eases just enough so he can prop himself up. I feel him smile against my shoulder before I even see it. He kisses the skin lightly.
“Hey,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “You okay?”
I turn in his arms to face him, taking him in. His hair is messy, his chest bare, and he is here. Very much still here.
When things moved so quickly between us last night, I hadn’t really given a thought to what this morning would look like. But I am so glad he stayed. Waking up next to him feels so natural. So right.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I just…wanted to make sure last night wasn’t a really convincing dream.”
His mouth curves up slowly. “Hate to disappoint you, but no. Very real.”
I laugh quietly, my hand sliding up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm. “Good.”
We lie there for a moment, tangled and unhurried, the silence easy instead of charged. His thumb traces absent circles along my arm, grounding and familiar already.
“About last night,” he says, watching me closely. “Any regrets?”
I shake my head without hesitation. “Not even a little.”
Something eases in his expression, like he’s been holding a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Same,” he says.
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly. We both freeze for half a second, then he laughs low, pulling me closer.
“Well,” he says, “guess that answers what’s next.”
I grin. “Coffee. Immediately. And carbs. Lots of carbs.”
He nods solemnly. “I make a pretty solid breakfast. Can I cook for you?”
I pretend to consider it, then smile a big, goofy grin up at him. “I suppose that’s fine,” I say, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.
He kisses me then, slow, unhurried, and full of promise before rolling out of bed and offering me his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I tell Nick to head into the kitchen while I make a beeline for my bathroom. I need a minute to get my bearings.
Last night was perfect.
He had been gentle when I wanted and not so gentle when I needed it.
He held me and talked sweetly, but also so, so dirty, and I really liked that.
Simon wasn’t a talker in bed, and he was the only other man I’d ever been with.
He was very much a get in, get his, and get out kind of man.
It was gross, really, what I considered normal and had put up with.
Nick and I haven’t even had sex yet, and I already know he’s going to blow my mind.
My stomach erupts in anxious butterflies just thinking about it.
I do my business, wash my hands and face, and brush my teeth.
I debate putting a bit of makeup on but quickly push that thought aside.
Nick isn’t a guy who needs impressing. Something tells me I could walk into the kitchen wearing a burlap sack and the man would still look at me as if I were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
He’s been looking at me that way since the first time we met.
The way he looks at me gives me confidence in myself.
In my body. Something that was sorely lacking in my supposed marriage.
But I am starting fresh. Learning my marriage was never real probably should upset me more than it does. I am mad at Simon for lying to me for so long, for creating this false narrative I stuck around for. I am also angry with myself for persevering for all that time.
But more than anything else, I am relieved. I am happy that chapter of my life is over and I have no legal ties to him or my life in Texas. I don’t want his money or anything from that time. I am here now with a job I love, a cute little home, and Nick.
Nick.
With a small shake of my head, I toss my hair into a messy bun and turn to leave the bathroom. I’m wearing only Nick’s shirt from last night, but I feel beautiful.
I walk into the kitchen and find Nick standing over the stove, bare from the waist up and barefoot, wearing only his jeans with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. My stomach growls again at the smell of bacon and coffee.
I freeze, staring unabashedly at the gorgeous, nearly naked man in my kitchen.
“Are you checking me out, pretty girl?” Nick asks, a smile across his beautiful face, not even needing to look up from the pan of bacon. “You can stare all you want. Just know as soon as I get you fed, it’s my turn to do the same.”
His eyes meet mine then, playful and full of mischief.
I walk further into the kitchen, coming up behind him to wrap my arms around his middle. I place gentle kisses along his back and smile against his skin when I hear the low grumble come from his chest. I move my hands a little lower on his hips, then gasp as Nick turns quickly in my arms.
He moves fast, catching me around the waist and pulling me flush against him before I can even blink. I laugh, surprised, as he backs me up a step.
“Dangerous game,” he says softly.
“Worth it,” I shoot back.
His gaze flicks over me, slow and appreciative, before he lifts me up easily and sets me on the counter. My breath catches as he steps in closer. His hands brace on either side of me, pressing against the counter’s surface and boxing me in.
“I like you in my shirt,” he murmurs.
I nod, smiling. “I like me in your shirt too.”
He kisses me, unhurried, smiling into it like he has nowhere else he needs to be.
My hands slide into his hair, tugging just enough to make him deepen the kiss.
His body settles between my knees like he belongs there.
I instinctively wrap my legs around his back, locking my ankles together to keep him there.
When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, smiling softly.
“I was trying to make you breakfast,” he says.
I brush my nose against his. “You still can.”
His eyes darken, amused and affectionate at the same time. “Yeah,” he says. “After this.”
His lips are on me again. His tongue brushes against my bottom lip, begging me to let him in. He kisses me hungrily as if I’m the air he needs to breathe. He pulls me toward him, and I can feel how hard he is pressed against my stomach.
Nick breaks the kiss a few seconds later, giving me one last peck on my nose before going to finish up the bacon, eggs, and toast. How can he possibly be so sweet?
I continue to sit on the counter for a little longer, catching my breath and wondering how in the hell he is seemingly so unaffected by how hot that kiss was while I’m a wet, needy puddle. Good Lord, that man can kiss.
When I can finally breathe like a normal human again, I go and sit at the small breakfast bar and prop my chin in my hand, shamelessly watching Nick work.
He moves around the small space as if it’s instinctual to him.
I can’t help but feel like he belongs here.
It’s just so easy. So natural. I’ve never had a “morning after” before, but I can’t believe they are all like this.
No awkwardness. No lulls in conversation.
It’s all exciting and easy and just feels so damn right.
Nick brings over my plate of food and sets it down in front of me. “Eat,” he says, bringing his coffee cup to his lips for another drink.
I dive in, not thinking twice about it. I am starving. We went to bed so early last night and slept through to this morning. I can’t remember the last time I even ate.
A thought hits me, and I freeze, fork halfway to my mouth.
“Where did the groceries come from? I know for a fact there was only macaroni and cheese and peanut butter and jelly in this kitchen yesterday.”
Nick grabs his own plate and sits down next to me, giving my shoulder a slight squeeze as he passes behind my back.
“You’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kitchen with so few groceries in it.
You eat like a college kid.” He laughs and turns slightly toward me.
“We crashed really early last night, and I woke up around midnight or so. I ran to my house and grabbed a couple of things to make this morning. I was really hoping you wouldn’t wake up while I was gone.
Luckily, you were still out cold when I got back. Is that okay?”
He looks almost embarrassed. At what, I have no clue.
“You got up in the middle of the night, raided your own kitchen since mine was empty, and brought food back here, just so you could cook for me this morning?”
Nick gives a little shrug, bringing his coffee cup to his lips. “Yeah.”
“You’re pretty great, Mr. Fulsom. I like you a lot,” I tell him, taking a bite of my breakfast. It earns me a laugh.
We eat in comfortable silence before Nick clears his throat. “How are you feeling about the news you got yesterday?” He looks nervous suddenly, as though he’s anxious about how I’ll respond.
I swallow my bite and carefully think about my answer before putting my fork down and turning to face him fully.