Chapter Twenty #5
"Has anyone ever told you that it is refreshing that you are so blunt?" I asked.
"Ah, well, usually people wish I would shut the fuck up with my opinions," he told me, not sounding the least bit upset about that fact.
"Well, I find it refreshing," I told him honestly. There was no guesswork. If he thought or felt it, he said it. Even if it was rude or inappropriate. Even if it would piss people off. You knew where you stood with him.
I'd been raised in a very fake social group.
Everyone wanted to save face. Most people had an agenda.
You could never know if someone was kind to you because they genuinely liked you, or if you fit into some plan they had for their future.
It made it hard to know who to trust. Which was a big reason I had clung so hard to my siblings.
At least I knew they loved me, wanted to be by me because of that connection. No ulterior motives. No dishonesty.
I had gotten to know some more genuine connections here in Navesink Bank with Krissy and Harvey and even the kids.
But I had yet to meet a man who was something more than a friend or coworker who had been so clear with me.
And because of that, because I knew he would give me the truth, I asked what I had been wondering when my face got serious.
"What is this, Nixon?"
"What's what? Your apartment? Kinda ugly, to be honest."
That got another laugh out of me, my head shaking. "No, not my apartment. This," I said, waving between our two bodies.
"Fuck if I know," he admitted, shrugging. "But it's something."
"Something," I mused, finding it oddly appropriate.
"Look," he said, sitting up straighter, making me bounce on his lap awkwardly, having to slap a hand into his chest to steady myself even though his hand was still casually anchored to my hip, holding me in place.
"I'm not King, okay? I'm not fucking romantic and open and good at showing my feelings. "
"I never said I wanted you to be like Kingston."
"And I'm not Atlas with his charm."
"I've known a lot of charming guys. They're overrated."
"My point is…” he said, rolling his eyes. If you had told me a month before that I would find eye rolls sexy, I would have laughed in your face. But Nixon's eye rolls? They were ridiculously sexy. "I suck at—“
"Finishing a sentence?" I provided, poking fun because I had a feeling he was struggling a bit, and I wanted to lighten the mood.
His hand slid from my hip to slap my ass. "Sometimes," he admitted. "I'm not a flowers and poetry kind of guy."
"Fresh flowers are a huge waste of money and resources. Unless you cut them from your own backyard."
"You get my point."
"I get your point," I agreed, nodding, a little distracted by his hand on my ass.
"I know I'm difficult."
"I like difficult. I turn jigsaw puzzles upside down when I do them, so I can't see the pictures," I told him.
"Fucking masochist," he informed me.
"I like a challenge."
"I'm not a problem to be solved, babe," he told me, and there was a hint of vulnerability there for the first time. "You take me as I am, or you fuck off. You're not going to change me."
My lips pressed together, trying to hold in a smile. "I don't think a man has ever tried to convince me to date him by telling me to fuck off before."
"I'm a unique individual," he supplied, lips twitching.
He didn't deny that he was asking me to date him. And that realization made my heart swell up in my chest. He wasn't the sort to give you false hope. If he didn’t agree with something you said, he let you know.
So that was what this was.
He was asking me to date him.
And, God, I didn't think I would ever be ready for that again, that I could ever find room in my life for it.
But there was no denying that I wanted this. I wanted him.
"Hm," I said, pursing my lips, pretending to think it through even though every part of me was screaming yes. "You know, I think I might actually be able to put up with your moody ass for a while."
"Just a while, huh?" he asked, both hands sliding to sink into my ass, dragging my hips closer to him, settling me right over his lap, and I couldn't seem to resist the urge to let my hips do a little wiggle against him.
"Well, see, I have this one hang-up," I told him, watching as his eyes went serious. Maybe even, dare I think it, worried.
"What's that?"
"Well, I was always told that it is very important, no, imperative, to try before you buy.
And... yeah... I haven't tried you yet," I told him, shaking my head in faux concern.
"I mean, you could ride terribly. You could break down in a matter of minutes.
I just can't take the risk of committing to that without at least taking a test drive. "
Nixon's eyes went molten as his hands sank harder into my ass, using it to anchor me to him as he knifed up, got to his feet, jiggled me once to coax me into wrapping my legs around him, then stalked off toward my bedroom.
I didn't need a test drive.
I knew somewhere in my soul that he was going to be the best lay I'd ever had.
But, God, was I looking forward to it regardless...