21. Zoe
TWENTY-ONE
zoe
“What’s the name of the restaurant again?”
Nate had gotten his stuff from Lucas’s apartment and brought it here. We decided, at least for these first few days, although staying with Lucas had seemed to be a good idea, staying with me was an even better one.
That way, we didn’t have to separate.
Call it a honeymoon period or whatever. But even after the entire day and night yesterday, the thought of him leaving seemed silly.
“Casa Bella. Pretty much the best Italian food on the lake.”
We were meeting up with Lucas and Charlee for dinner. Apparently, they both thought we’d been locked up in my apartment for long enough, but I wasn’t sure I agreed. Even now, trying to put on my makeup with Nate standing next to me was proving impossible. Every time I glanced in the mirror, Nate looked at me as if he were going to do something. Touch me. Talk dirty to me. And I wanted him to. Badly. But we had to get ready, so instead of focusing on his come-hither expression in the mirror, I gave my attention back to my eyeliner. At least, I gave it my attention for all of five seconds before someone was at my back. His entire body pressed into mine. His arms wrapped around me, effectively ending my makeup application.
I was about to tell him we really needed to finish getting ready if we wanted to make it on time when he gently swept my hair to the side. Kissing my neck, Nate moved slowly upward, kiss by kiss, saying nothing. Behind my ear. Then back down my neck to my shoulder, making me wish I’d put a shirt on.
Or not.
His hands roamed now, one covering each breast as his trail of kisses continued.
“That feels like heaven,” I murmured, not wanting it to stop.
“It does,” he said, his thumbs rubbing my nipples through the fabric as if they weren’t already hard to his touch. Dare I even think it? His loving touch. Nothing about the way Nate caressed me felt like it was leading to one of the frantic bouts of sex we’d had these last twenty-four hours. I nearly blurted out what I was feeling at this very moment. But since we’d just had the boyfriend/ girlfriend talk, it seemed a bit premature.
And also, could I tell Nate I loved him when I’d thought I had loved Erik? Maybe I didn’t know or understand love as much as I thought. But my heart certainly felt as if it were about to burst open wide with an unrelenting desire and need to cherish every touch he offered.
When he spun me around, I blurted, “Kiss me,” wanting nothing more than Nate’s lips on mine.
“Gladly,” he said just before he did. Slowly. Sensually.
Though I wore only my thong and bra, Nate had put his jeans on already. Knowing we’d definitely be late, but not caring, I reached between us and unzipped those jeans now. We’d been talking way too long about this very scenario not to make it happen.
I sprung him free, finding Nate gloriously hard. My hands wrapped around him, and Nate made that guttural sound I adored. Remembering the stool under my sink, I used my foot to pull it out. Nate understood the assignment, and apparently didn’t want to take the time to pull my undies down and off my body. The sound of my lace thong quite literally ripping from my body might just be one of the sexiest things he’d done yet. And the list was long.
Saying “I’m going to rip those things from your body” in a text is quite a bit different than having it actually happen. My legs now freed, I propped one foot on the stool. As I guided him into me, Nate took control, and just like that, we were joined.
He stopped kissing me long enough to look into my eyes as he filled me completely. Despite the very hot act of him tearing my undies off, he moved slowly, hands on my hips, pulling me to him as we found our rhythm easily.
“We’re going to be late,” I said as he continued to look into my eyes.
“Mmmm. Yes. We will.”
“Why do you feel so good inside me?”
It was a rhetorical question. I hadn’t expected him to actually answer.
“Because our bodies were meant for each other.”
With every thrust, Nate circled his hips, pulling me toward him with just enough friction.
“Nate.” I wanted to agree with him, tell him our bodies were made for each other. But also add that we were meant for each other too. . . meant to be together. I believed that.
“Yes, Zoe girl?”
But I didn’t say any of it because this just felt too good.
“Don’t stop,” I said instead.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He leaned his head toward me then, and the second his tongue found mine, Nate mimicking every thrust and retreat. . . I held on to the back of his head. My fingers wrapped around any bit of hair I could find, holding on.
Perhaps sensing I was close, he thrust deep and stilled.
So. Deep.
My entire body shook. Nate’s gentle lovemaking and kisses turned instantly more demanding as I came. With a final thrust, his mouth opened. The sound he made was almost primal. I loved it.
We continued to stare at one another.
“Jesus, Zoe.”
I knew exactly how he felt.
I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and not let go. Remarkably, getting to know him over text, learning so much about each other, sometimes at a deeper level than we’d probably have talked about in person, connected us in ways I didn’t think would have been possible had we started this relationship the more conventional way.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, still inside me.
“I was just thinking that if we’d met in person first, we’d probably have jumped into bed immediately.”
I loved his laugh. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Not necessarily. Just. . . we got to know each other first this way. I like that.”
“I know what you mean. I like that too. And I like watching you put makeup on by the way. In case you haven’t figured that out yet.”
He did pull out then, more’s the pity.
“I have. Although now we’re going to have to do a walk of shame into the restaurant. No way Lucas and Charlee won’t have figured out what went down.
“And that’s a problem because. . .”
He was right. “I guess it’s fine. But we really should get ready though.” I looked down at my poor underwear.
“Sorry about that, Zoe girl. You may have to stock up on lace thongs with me around.”
“If there’s one thing you don’t have to apologize for, it’s ripping off my undies.” I picked up the torn thong and tossed it in the trash. “That was freaking hot.”
“In that case, we’re gonna need to put a lingerie run on our itinerary for the week.”
That was something else we hadn’t talked about.
“So you’re staying for at least the week?” I couldn’t resist. “Then what?”
“That”—he kissed my forehead—“is yet to be determined. Do you want me to stay the week?”
“Very much.”
“In your place?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, then that’s settled. You’ve got me for at least a week.”
It would have to do.
But I wanted more. Much more.
I wanted. . . forever.