20. Dex
Chapter 20
As the early morning sun rises over Manhattan, bathing his bedroom in light, I snuggle into Nate’s side. He stirs and rolls over, wrapping his arms around me.
“Morning,” he murmurs against my ear, sending a shiver of desire down my spine, despite the fact we stayed up half the night fucking.
“What are we going to do today?” I ask.
“Fuck,” Nate replies lazily. I nudge him in the ribs, drawing a loud groan. “Ow.”
“Be serious,” I say.
He rubs the offending area. “I was being serious.”
I raise my eyes heavenward. “We’re guests here. We can’t spend all day in bed. Plus, I want to see New York.”
“We’re not guests. This is my brother’s place, so if we want to spend all day in bed, we can. However…” he adds when I open my mouth to interrupt. “There are some things I want to show you today that don’t involve the area below my waist.”
I can’t help laughing. “You’re so bad.”
He tickles me until I squeal and try to scramble away, but Nate soon has me pinned to the bed, both my wrists clamped in one of his large hands, leaving his other hand free to roam.
“I’m very, very bad, Titch. You don’t know the half of it.” He nuzzles between my breasts, and I arch into him. “Let’s shower.”
He climbs off the bed and wanders into the bathroom. Seconds later, the sound of running water reaches me. I ease myself out of bed and stretch, my body stiff and sore. In a few short weeks, I’ve turned into a goddamn nymphomaniac. I can’t get enough.
I love you.
Last night I managed to thrust the thought aside, but here it is again, crashing into me. I’ve never been in love, so how can I possibly know whether the feelings I have for Nate are love or some misplaced infatuation with a man who makes my body hum with a pleasure so addictive, I’m not sure I can survive without it?
I ended up in bed with him too fast, but I know myself well enough to recognize my feelings as deeper than purely physical. I love spending time with him. I crave his smile, and will do just about anything to make him laugh. When he’s happy, I’m ecstatic. He’s my anchor in the middle of the stormy sea of life, and I’ll do anything to cling on, to never let go.
I wander over to the window and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Nate isn’t ready for this. Hell, I’m not ready. To fall in love with anyone is scary enough, but an actor? A man expert in playing a part would have the road ahead paved with pain if I’m not careful.
Is Nate even capable of such deep feelings? If he can’t embrace the love of his brothers when they so obviously adore him, what chance do I have of putting a dent in his armor? But I can’t pull away now. I’m in too deep. I have to try to protect my heart and focus on having fun along the way. Whatever happens, happens.
“Titch, get in here.”
Pushing aside all thoughts of love, I scamper into the bathroom. Nate stands with his shoulder braced against the glass door as he waits for me. He opens it and gestures for me to go ahead, then follows.
I step underneath the hot spray and wet my hair, but when I reach for the shampoo, Nate takes it from me. He squeezes a dollop into the palm of his hand and rubs it in my hair. God, that feels good. I let out a shallow moan of appreciation, drawing a hiss from him.
“How do you manage to make every little whimper sound so goddamn sexy, Titch?”
He digs his fingertips into my skull, and I moan again. “How did you learn to wash hair so good?”
He chuckles. “Tip your head back.”
I do as he asks, and he washes out the soap until the water runs clear. Reaching for the shampoo again, he passes it to me. “Your turn.”
I squeeze the bottle. “You’ll have to bend forward. I’m never going to reach.”
I expect him to lower his head, but instead, he lifts me and hooks my legs over his hips, bringing us eye to eye, his hands cradling my ass. “Now you can reach.”
I laugh and begin to wash his hair. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
Not true. I’ll have you any way I can get you.
We finish our shower, and Nate wraps me in an enormous fluffy towel that almost goes around me twice. After drying himself off, he strolls, fully naked—and fully erect—into the bedroom. I expected him to want sex in the shower, but one thing I’m learning about Nate is that he often does the complete opposite of what I think he’ll do.
“There’s a hairdryer underneath the sink in the bathroom if you need it,” Nate calls through.
“I brought my own,” I say, joining him in the bedroom as he heaves my suitcase onto the bed, making a big production of its weight. “Jesus. Did you bring half your belongings with you?”
I nudge him out of the way and open it. “A girl never knows what she’ll need.”
Nate peers over my shoulder as I start to unpack. Like a hawk, he pounces on my best set of underwear—a navy-blue, lacy number that leaves very little to the imagination. It was a birthday gift from Elva a couple years ago, but I’d never found a reason to wear it. I’d hummed and hawed about whether to pack it, but in the end, I’d thrown it in.
He dangles it in the air. “Oh, Titch, here’s an outfit you’ll definitely be needing. In fact, you could have just packed this and nothing else.”
I snatch it from his grasp and stuff it into the nightstand drawer, my face burning. “Get dressed.”
He laughs and ambles over to the dresser. I gawk at his firm, muscled ass, and when he turns around unexpectedly and catches me peeking, my skin heats once more. I grab my own hairdryer—I’m fussy like that—as well as my curling iron, and scuttle back to the bathroom with Nate’s chuckles ringing in my ears.
It takes thirty minutes to dry my hair, and a further fifteen to add a few waves. When I return to the bedroom, Nate is nowhere to be seen. I quickly dress in jeans and a top and shove my feet into my sneakers. If we’re going do a lot of walking around, I’ll need comfortable footwear.
I tentatively open the door and creep down the hallway, peeking into the living room to find it empty. I expected it to be full of people, like last night.
The smell of coffee reaches me, and I tiptoe over to the kitchen to find a pot already brewed. After opening several cabinets, and feeling more than a little audacious, I find a stack of mugs. I pour a coffee, add a dash of cream, then wander back into the living area to set my coffee on the table and plunk down on the sofa. A few magazines are haphazardly strewn over the low-level table, so I pick one up and flick through, but it doesn’t hold my attention.
Where the hell is Nate?
“Oh, you’re up. Sleep well?”
I turn to see I’ve been joined by Indie. “Um, yeah.” I hold up my mug of java. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Make yourself at home. Do you want some breakfast?” Indie grabs a pan and puts it on the stove. “I’m making an omelet if you’d like one.”
“I’m okay, thanks.” I scramble to my feet. “Have you seen Nate?”
Indie nods. “He’s upstairs talking to Declan.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll be down shortly.” She cracks an egg into a bowl. “Are you sure I can’t make you something?”
“I’m good.” I check out the view I didn’t get a chance to enjoy last night, then wander over to the breakfast bar and slip onto a stool. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing around like crazy, especially with the wedding being tomorrow and all.”
Indie smiles. “Luckily, I’m a pretty organized person. It’s all done.”
“Thanks for letting me share your special day.”
Indie pats my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. Any friend of Nate’s is always welcome.”
I rest my elbows on the counter and my chin in my hands. “How long have you known Nate?”
Indie briefly looks up from what she’s doing. “Four years, give or take.”
“What’s he like?”
At that, Indie puts the bowl down and gives me her full attention. “You tell me,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re the one sleeping with him.”
I blush but then notice her teasing expression and laugh. “Doesn’t mean I know a single thing about him.”
Indie nods. “True.” She sighs, considering my question. “Out of all of Declan’s brothers, Nate is the one I know the least, and the one I’m not at all close to.”
I tilt my head. “Why is that?”
“Partly because he lives on the other side of the country, but I think it’s more to do with Nate himself. He’s… difficult to get to know. You saw him last night. Not even his brothers can get much from him, and Declan virtually raised him.”
I nod. “I told him off for how rude he was when we arrived.”
Indie raises an eyebrow. “You did? Brave girl.”
“He took it well,” I said, my voice full of irony.
Indie laughs. “I can only imagine.”
I pause, wondering whether I should push harder—whether Indie has an insight into why he hates coming to New York so much. Oh, what the hell. In for a penny and all that.
“Why does Nate hate being here so much?”
Indie comes to sit beside me. “I don’t know. Over the last four years, I can count on one hand how many times he’s visited, and whenever Declan has suggested we go to visit him, Nate always has an excuse.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand it. If you were all horrible, then, sure, I’d get it.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Oh, yeah. He either responds with brooding silence or a snippy comeback.”
“I wish I had some insight.” She takes a sip of coffee. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”
I frown. “What makes you say that?”
“His smile.” When my frown deepens, Indie elaborates. “I find Nate a little intimidating if I’m honest. I remember when I first met Declan, something made me want to give Nate a wide berth. But upstairs just now, I saw him smile three times. Three… in the space of ten minutes. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile that much in four years. Whatever you’re doing, I say keep doing it.”
A shot of warmth rushes through me. Could I be making a difference in Nate’s life? He certainly laughs with me. A lot. Yet from Indie’s experience, laughter is a rarity.
I flash a quick grin. “I’ll try.”
“Okay, food.” Indie goes back to cracking eggs. “Last chance. Sure I can’t tempt you?”
“I’m taking her out for breakfast.”
I twist around to see Nate sauntering casually across the living room. Like a clichéd heroine in a chick-lit movie, my breath catches in my throat, and my heart speeds up. His hair is still slightly damp from our earlier shower, and the black button-down shirt he’s paired with jeans shows off his muscled physique to perfection.
He drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Shall we go?”
“Sure.”
“Enjoy, kiddy-kins. Be good,” Indie says with a grin.
“Very fucking funny,” Nate says, although his lips tug upward with a hint of a smile as he catches my hand in his.
A thick blanket of cloud has replaced yesterday’s endless blue skies. Just as well considering I’ve left my sunglasses in the bedroom. It’s still humid, though, and my T-shirt sticks to my skin after trying to keep up with Nate’s loping strides.
“Can you slow down a bit,” I say, yanking on his hand. “I’m small, remember.”
Nate lazily casts his gaze over me. “Yeah, but perfectly formed.”
I roll my eyes, but secretly, I’m thrilled. I keep wanting to pinch myself to make sure all this is real. I’m on vacation. In New York. With Nate O’Reilly. And we’re walking down the street hand in hand. The odd passerby casts a curious glance our way, probably trying to place Nate, but he stares straight ahead without making eye contact. I realize after a few minutes that this is a tactic he uses in LA, too. It must be an approach he discovered works because not a single person accosts us.
He stops in front of a café with a green awning that reads: Evergreen. “This place serves the best pancakes in New York,” he says, pushing open the door.
A bell jingles overhead, alerting the waitress behind the counter, who’s serving coffee to men in suits.
“Sit anywhere you like,” she says, waving her hand around the café. “I’ll be over in a sec.”
Nate slides into a booth, and I follow. I’ve figured, after the several meals we’ve shared, Nate prefers for me to sit beside him rather than opposite. He runs his hand up my inner thigh and hits me with a smile that melts my insides.
“You’re learning, Titch.”
I’ve never thought of myself as subservient enough to be a people pleaser. I’m too mouthy and opinionated to need outside validation. But pleasing Nate is becoming an addiction. I chase his smiles and crave his approval. I love making him happy because it makes me happy.
After we order pancakes, eggs, and coffee, I turn to Nate. “What are we doing today?”
Nate taps the side of his nose. “Wait and see.”
I grin. Let him have his fun. “As long as the Empire State is on the list, I’m good.”
“It might be,” he says, leaning back to allow the waitress to set down two steaming mugs of coffee.
“Are you sure Declan doesn’t need you to help with the wedding? We can easily sightsee on Sunday and Monday.”
Nate flashes a look of horror my way. “That sounds like my idea of hell. I’m here. I’ll turn up tomorrow, smile, and make small talk with dicks I couldn’t give two shits about. As for anything else?” He shakes his head vigorously. “Nope. Not a fucking chance.”
I roll my eyes. “Jeez. Chill, will ya.”
He narrows his eyes, but beneath the fierce stare is a mischievous glint I can’t resist. I fling my arms around his neck and kiss him, a quick peck rather than a passionate clinch, but when I begin to pull away, Nate holds me in place and deepens the kiss.
Breaking away, he rests his forehead against mine. “The taste of you is becoming addictive. Luckily, our pancakes will be here soon, otherwise I may have gotten on my knees and eaten you instead.”
A couple of customers at nearby tables look over. My face burns not because of what Nate said, but the volume at which he said it.
“Shhh,” I say, giving him a nudge.
“What?” When I cock my head, Nate makes eye contact with a man sitting adjacent who has decided the conversation happening to his left is a lot more interesting than his plate of eggs Benedict. His sleazy gaze sweeps over me, and he licks his lips.
Nate straightens in his seat and picks up his fork. “Buddy, if you don’t take your eyes off my girlfriend, I’ll fucking gouge them out.”
I stare at the floor, willing it to open up and swallow me whole.
The guy clears his throat. “No offense meant.” His chair scrapes backward, and he gets to his feet, mumbling an apology.
Once I’m sure he’s gone, I lift my head, expecting to see the entire café watching the show. Thankfully, Nate’s glowering expression must put off any other interested parties because not one person is paying us any attention.
Then Nate’s words hit me like a ten-ton truck. Girlfriend. He’s only gone and called me his girlfriend. My mouth opens and closes, but the arrival of our breakfast saves me from conjuring up any words. Nate seems oblivious to my bewilderment as he picks up the maple syrup and pours it over his pancakes.
“Take a bite and tell me they’re not the best damn pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”
I stare at my plate, then at him. “I’m your girlfriend?”
Nate frowns, then his forehead wrinkles, sending his eyebrows shooting up. “Fuck. Yeah. Shit.” And then he breaks into a smile. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Titch. How do you feel about that?”
I sweep my tongue over my dry lips and swallow. “I guess I can cope… once I’ve trained you up a bit.”
Nate throws back his head and laughs. “Trained me up?”
I grin. “Yeah. I mean, you could be boyfriend material. It’ll take a lot of work, but I’m up for the challenge if you are.”
Nate shakes his head, but the smile is still very much on his lips. “Sold.”
My heart thrums against my ribcage. I just became Nate O’Reilly’s girlfriend. Oh, dear God, I’m going to hyperventilate.
“Now, eat your pancakes before they go cold.”