Chapter 16 #2
“My brother just gave me a little insight.” I hope that my lack of a frown eases Nash, especially when I touch his arm. “Maybe later we can talk? I need to check in with the event planner for someone’s wedding this weekend.”
His hand mirrors my gesture and grazes my arm for a quick touch. “Of course. You’re all good?”
My smile is authentic with no need to cover my internal demons. “I think so.”
Leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in hand, my eyes follow Nash’s path as he enters the room and heads straight to the fridge. He put Bo to bed tonight.
“Have I mentioned lately that your baby-whisperer skills have been upgraded to an eight?”
Nash peeks out from around the open fridge door. “Oh yeah?” He’s proud.
“Uh-oh, I just boosted your self-image.”
He closes the door with a beer bottle in his hand, then he slides the bottle opener that was lying on the counter off, snaps the cap, and throws the cap somewhere near the sink, which he most definitely will be picking up later.
Arriving next to me, he joins in leaning over the counter and looking in the same direction toward the wall where a picture of me hangs, taken one fall day.
It was spontaneous, but I think the way the light catches my eyes and glimmers on my skin makes me confidently beautiful.
Somehow, similar to many family photos in this house, everything became part of the background, and I forget to look. Today, the remnants of other times give me a few moments of self-reflection for my body to relax.
“We never got to talk about your brother. Is he always so brazen or just when I’m around?”
I grin as I nudge Nash’s shoulder with mine. “Actually, he gave me a little perspective, and no, he took you off his list of who to hunt down. Not sure he was praising your graces, but it was close enough.”
“Really?”
I nod once. “He knows about us. Or at least, his own notion of us. To my surprise, we talked, and he gave me a little hope that I don’t need to feel so guilty as long as this is right.”
Nash’s eyes nearly bug out when I side-eye him. “And do you believe in what you just said?”
The balls of my bare feet turn on the smooth wood to rest my back against the counter. “Maybe a tiny bit.”
Nash moves to stand in front of me with my legs between his as we stand, and both of his hands rest on the counter to frame my hips, giving me a chance to leave. But I don’t want to. The heat between us and the subtle hint of a cardamom-pine cologne hits my senses.
“I’m happy if his unexpected visit gave you a little peace of mind.”
My lips quirk out, and my fingers find his shirt to play with. “I think I’m going to let go of a little guilt. Otherwise, it only prolongs the sorrow, doesn’t it?”
Nash releases one of his hands and runs his long finger along my cheek. “I believe so.”
“I can breathe a little more easily after talking to him. I thought he would judge me, and maybe he was, but in the end, he made me feel that I’m finding my own way, and I shouldn’t be scared about others’ expectations of what I should feel.”
“Summer, it’s true.”
Collecting his finger in my hand, I bring it up to my lips for a soft kiss. “It’s still not entirely clear what we’re doing, Nash. But I’m choosing to go to sleep with a little less remorse, and that already lifts me a little more.”
Something I say sets him off because he scoops my head into his hands at record speed, and his mouth lowers to capture my lips in a firm kiss filled with reverence. “I needed to hear you say that.” Nash kisses my forehead then pulls me in tight to his chest.
My mouth tugs as it seems we are standing in the same place and not just literally.
I pull away, and our eyes dance in recognition of where we are in life. There is a glint in Nash’s eyes that holds me. I can’t tear away from them, even when he hoists me up onto the kitchen counter with clear purpose for what he wants.
“Summer,” he rasps.
I press my finger against his lips. “Shh.”
The corner of his mouth hitches up before he continues his journey, leading me to lie on my back as his mouth travels down my body, stopping just above that sensitive spot. Instead, he kisses my belly and then again.
“Screw my shh plea, I need to tell you that doing this on the kitchen counter is wildly inappropriate considering there are baby bottles and cereal crumbs scattered around the counter,” I joke to break our moment into bliss.
“Tsk, tsk,” Nash tuts. “All the more incentive to take this wildly inappropriateness onto the floor.” In a flash, he picks me up, and we fall to the floor, and I giggle as we stumble.
But he wastes no time and gets me on my back with his teeth dragging my shirt up, tugging a few times, his stubbled jaw rubbing against my skin and causing a sensitive ripple in my body.
I moan purely from watching him and his persistence. He must notice. “You might have back pain tomorrow. I need to keep you on the floor for a while so I can go slow and take you the way you deserve since you’ve knocked down a brick or two.”
As tempting as that is… I push him off me, and he sinks to sitting with his back to the cupboard door. I end up in his lap with my legs around him. “That’s only if you manage to get me off of you,” I challenge him, and I sweep my shirt up and off.
This is a mixture of fun and passion that continues to grow between us. There is a reason I don’t look at the pictures around the house anymore.
Because Nash re-entered my life, causing me to be blinded of the border between past and present.