26. Zinnia
ZINNIA
M y heart falls as I watch Nick slink into his room.
I take a moment to catch my breath, body humming. I’m still reeling from the sex, the way it felt to have him so close, so open and present and vulnerable.
It was… fuck, it was everything. Like nothing I’ve ever felt.
I mean, I’ve had great sex in my life, but this was different. Less about the act itself, as hot as that was, and more about the man.
About Nick .
My pulse steadies, and I sit up on his sofa, glancing at the door to his bedroom. Maybe he wants to be alone, but I can’t leave it. I can’t let him think that was anything other than perfect.
I rise to my feet, padding to his doorway. “Hey,” I say softly. “Are you okay?”
He nods stiffly, not meeting my gaze, and my chest tightens.
I hate seeing him like this. Shut down, guard up.
It’s the Nick I met, but it’s not the real him.
The real Nick is the man who just bared himself to me, just confessed, You feel like heaven, honey.
Like everything I could ever want . The words send a delicious shiver through me, and I cross to his bed, lowering myself beside him.
“You’re not, Nick.” I hesitate, then slide a hand onto his arm. “Talk to me.”
He heaves an exhale, tugging off his glasses to wipe them in that nervous tic of his. Then he realizes he’s not wearing a shirt and shoves them back on.
“You know that was amazing, right?” I say gently. “I could never have imagined it would be that good.”
His jaw works, and maybe someone else would read it as him being angry at them, but I know Nick well enough now. He’s angry with himself.
“I’m sorry I…” he trails off, shoulders tensing.
“Sorry you what?” I ask. “Came?” I can’t help but laugh. “Fuck, Nick, that’s exactly what I wanted.”
He glances up, brow creased in confusion.
“You spent all of class, and God knows how long before that, holding back,” I tell him. “Keeping yourself—your passion —contained. Do you know how fucking good it was to see you give in? That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Aching for.”
He swallows. “But you didn’t—”
“I did. Maybe you didn’t realize, but that tongue of yours is pretty fucking magical.”
He huffs an uncomfortable laugh.
“And to be clear,” I add, “I didn’t come here tonight for an orgasm. I can get those at home. I came here for you .” The skin of his forearm feels warm as I stroke it. “That’s all I want. To be close to you. To see you let your guard down.”
He sighs, the tension draining from his shoulders, and relief fills my chest.
“Besides,” I add, smiling wryly, “this isn’t entirely on you. I like to think it had something to do with me.”
His eyes darken as they rake over me, naked beside him on the bed. “It had everything to do with you,” he says thickly.
I inch closer, dropping a kiss on the muscular globe of his shoulder. “See? It’s my fault. All my fault.”
A smile hovers at the edge of his mouth. “It is all your fault. If you weren’t so gorgeous,” he says, lips brushing mine. “So fucking soft and perfect…” He tugs me into his lap, and I straddle him, covering his mouth with mine.
“No more talking,” I whisper, focusing on the velvet feel of his lips, the scratch of his scruff on my chin.
His kiss tastes so damn good, tastes of him , and as his tongue laps against mine, he hardens again between my thighs.
I rock against that hardness, not asking for anything, just wanting him to feel good.
It doesn’t take long for his kisses to grow more urgent, and I reach into his underwear to free him, then slowly sink onto his length.
“Fuck,” he rasps, hands gripping my hips. “Honey…”
God, every time he calls me that, my heart melts.
“I know,” I say, kissing him hard. “I know.”
Nick rocks into me slowly as we hold each other close. He’s agonizingly attentive, never taking his eyes off me. Never missing a beat.
And this time I come twice.
I’m early for life-drawing class the next night, eager to see Nick. It doesn’t surprise me to find him there already, setting up the easels. His eyes meet mine when I enter, flickering with heat before he wrestles them away.
“Hello,” he says, trying to smother his smile. But I see it.
And I love it.
“Hi.”
I sidle up to him, checking to make sure we’re alone, then rise to peck him on the cheek. He glances at me with mock disapproval, but it quickly vanishes behind a grin he can’t hide.
Fuck, he’s adorable.
I don’t make a habit of staying over after sleeping with someone, but I stayed at Nick’s last night.
It was late after our second round, and I was comfortable in his bed.
He didn’t ask, but I sensed he wanted me there.
It was pretty clear when I found a spare toothbrush on the counter, still in the packet, waiting for me.
And it was surprisingly lovely, falling asleep beside him. Waking up beside him. He kept one arm around me all night, and while I never could have imagined enjoying that, with him, I do.
I don’t want to think about what that means.
He went to work today, and I went home to check on Gran. Thankfully, I got in early enough without her seeing, and she didn’t seem aware that I hadn’t come home last night. It was a relief, even if guilt nagged at me during breakfast, as I drank tea with her and didn’t mention where I’d been.
Or who I’d been with.
But what’s the point, when it won’t amount to anything? No need to worry Gran over nothing.
Because the more I think about it, the more I think she would be worried.
I don’t care that Nick is a lot older than me, but Gran might be uncomfortable with the age difference between us.
With him having been my professor. And if not worried, at the very least uncomfortable.
She knows Nick from the art world. She respects him.
How would that change if she knew we’d slept together?
I shake off the thought as June enters the studio to hand me my robe for class. She coughs into her elbow, gold bangles jangling as she motions for me not to get too close.
Nick’s brow creases in concern. “Are you feeling okay, June?”
“I’m fine, Nicholas. Just a little cold.”
I glance at Nick. “In summer?” I say, frowning. “That’s no good.”
She gives me a look of agreement, another hacking cough shaking free.
“June,” I say gently, “We’re happy to lock up if you want to go home? I think you should rest.”
She hesitates, gratitude softening her features. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Nick answers.
“Thank you.” She exhales in relief. “You still have the key?”
He nods.
“Feel better,” I say, watching her leave.
Poor June. But between Nick and me, the center is in safe hands. It’s nice that she trusts us.
Nick drags the pedestal across the studio, and I take my robe to go change, then pause, turning back to him with a sly grin.
“Should I go fully nude tonight?”
He drops the pedestal into place, his brow pulling low. “You could,” he says, eyes darting to the door as he crosses to me. “But I’m not sure I want you to.”
My lips twitch. “Why?” I poke him teasingly in the arm. “Because it would make you uncomfortable?”
“No.” He pauses, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s your body, and I’d never tell you what to do with it. But…” He leans closer, dropping his voice. “I like the idea of some part of you being just for me.”
Just for me .
There’s something a little possessive in those words, and heat unfurls low in my belly. I’d never imagined Nick to be the jealous type, and while it would piss me off with anyone else, I’m surprised to find it has the opposite effect with him.
I swallow, leaning closer. “I like the idea of that too,” I whisper.
He exhales hard, his gaze falling to my lips. God, I want to kiss him. Need to kiss him. He must feel the same, because when I grab his shirt to tug him closer, he doesn’t stop me. I’m a hairsbreadth away from making contact when a noise sounds at the door.
“ Fuck ,” Nick mutters.
He pulls away with a low growl, a deep V stamped between his brows. He looks so pissed off that I laugh, and send him a grin as I saunter off to change for class.
Thankfully, Nick’s annoyance doesn’t last long. In fact, it’s our best class yet. He’s warm and encouraging, livelier and more passionate than I’ve ever seen him, so much so that even Ruth and Gary notice.
I’ve noticed a change in Nick, too. I think about that sketch he did of me, not only because it was breathtaking—in both its portrayal of me and its technical skill—but because of how he transformed as he drew.
The divot of concentration between his brows, how he lost track of time.
I held that pose for almost an hour, and I don’t think he realized.
He simply focused on the stroke of his pencil across the page, as he slowly loosened up and lost himself in the process.
If only I could say the same for the sex. I have zero complaints about Nick’s skills in the bedroom—and even fewer about his body, damn—but the second time we were together last night, he was so distant. So in his head.
I know why. He said it had been a while for him, and he doesn’t want to disappoint me. But I meant every word I said. I’m there for him , nothing else. And I can’t get close to him if his walls stay up.
By the end of class, the room is buzzing. I’ve never felt such a positive mood from everyone as they head home for the night, and I can’t help but smile as we pack up.
“You were great tonight,” I tell Nick.
He drags the pedestal back beside the sofa. “So were you.” His gaze flicks to the door, ensuring everyone has gone, then sweeps over my robe. “As gorgeous as always.”
How many times has he wanted to say that to me in the past, I wonder.
I know I’ve wanted to say it to him, and that was before I saw him naked.
I mean, good God. There are no words to capture the shock—the sheer delight —I felt when he undressed last night, revealing those sculpted shoulders, that muscular chest, the ridges in his abs.
He’s a fucking masterpiece, and while I enjoy having him all to myself, it almost feels like a waste.
Like he’s doing the world a disservice by not sharing it.
“Honestly, Nick.” I shake my head. “ You should be up there. Your body…”
The tips of his ears redden adorably at my compliment. It was like that last night, too.
“Sorry,” I say, hoping I’m not making him uncomfortable. “I know I keep talking about your body. It’s just…” I swallow, staring at his torso. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his eyes darkening. “It’s okay, honey. If it helps, I think about your body far more than I should.”
I play with the tie on my robe. “You do?” I ask, and he reaches up to cup my jaw.
“You know I do.”
His finger traces a path down my neck, along my collarbone, dipping between my breasts. I tug on the tie, the robe falls open, and his gaze slides to my stomach, my hips, my thighs. His eyelids drop to half-mast.
“Sometimes it’s all I can think about,” he says, voice like gravel.
An aroused breath escapes me. While I don’t usually have a problem with men and my body, I often sense they merely tolerate it, focusing on my face and tits, or worse, sleeping with me despite it.
But with Nick, it’s the opposite. He wants me because of my body. All the squishy bits, the wobbly bits, the parts anyone else would label as imperfect. Those are the parts he loves. The parts that turn him on.
And I need to feel it. I need his hands on me.
Now.
I nudge his shoulder, and he falls onto the sofa, looking up at me. Fire lights his eyes as I straddle him, my robe fluttering open around us.
“Do you know how badly I wanted you on this sofa during the blackout?” I ask, rocking against the erection I can feel growing in his jeans.
He gives me a look. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you every single time we’ve been in this room?”
Oh, God.
“Nick,” I whisper urgently, hands straying to his belt buckle. “I need you.”
His brows climb his forehead. “Now?”
“Yes.”
It occurs to me that maybe being spontaneous will help him let go, and I tug his belt free, but his hands come to mine, stopping me. He kisses me softly, his expression pained.
“I want to, honey. God, I want to.” He hesitates, as if imagining how hot it would be, then clenches his jaw. “But not here.”
My breath trickles out, and I try to quell the disappointment rising inside me. After seeing him come alive in that class, it’s so frustrating that he’s still holding back with me. I can tell he wants to give in to this, but I think he’s scared. Scared of how good it feels.
How much it feels.
Reluctantly, I slide off his lap, but as I rise, he straightens, taking my hand.
“Have you been to the Museum of Modern Art?”
I smile, thinking of when I last went with Gran. “Not for years.”
“Would you like to go this weekend? I figure we’ve done the Met, so…
” He shrugs, then adds, “What I’d really like to do is take you to dinner, but we probably shouldn’t do that together in public.
At least at MoMA we could say we ran into each other if anyone saw us.
We can’t hold hands or kiss or anything, but… ”
“But we could be there together,” I finish, squeezing his hand. “That sounds great. I have plans with my friends in the morning to organize Violet’s baby shower, but I’m free after that.” I bite my lip. “So… it’s a date?”
“Yeah.” He looks at the floor, grinning to himself, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “If you’d like that.”
“I’d love that.” I rise on my toes, pressing my mouth to his.
And as I get dressed, I try not to think about how much this man is getting under my skin.