“Right. Right. You’re right.”
“Okay.” She stepped toward my bedroom door. She had to pass me to escape. I could see it on her face—she didn’t want to be here. She’d rather be in the living room with my overbearing mother than be stuck back here with me. She probably thought of me as an emotional ticking time bomb. Which, essentially, was exactly what I was. “Hey,” I said when she was close, stopping her before she could walk out. “Nobody’s ever shown up like this for me. It means everything to me that you’re here.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“No, it’s not. Thank you, and you look beautiful. Really, you do.”
Her eyes found mine. “Not your favorite look though.”
“Well, my favorite look is you naked in bed. Your hair down, all sexy and wild. Your nipples showing. But I know I can’t have my way all the time.”
A cute little smirk moved over her lips. There. Yes. It was the best damn thing ever. A little color even came to her cheeks. “You could if you wanted,” she whispered.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I felt warm all over despite the fact that we were basically in the middle of a dinner party—one of the things I hated most in this world. I touched her face. I touched my forehead to hers. It felt so good just being near her. She rested her hands on my chest. Maybe she wasn’t in as much of a rush to get away from me as I thought.
“You were on my mind all day,” I muttered quickly, knowing we only had another minute alone. “You and your pregnant nipples.”
“What? Oh God.”
Her hands raised to cover her face. I’d embarrassed her. I hadn’t meant to. I gently pulled her hands away. “I meant… I can tell a difference. In the light this morning, I really got a chance to see you naked. I love it. I love the difference. I love being the reason behind that difference. You’re so beautiful; what I did to you this morning almost broke me in half. I’m sorry for what I put you through. We need to have a real conversation about my panic attacks. Not now, but eventually.”
She nodded.
“I’ll be just one minute. I’m just going to take a thirty second shower. Sit with Sam until I get back. She’s safe.”
“I can handle myself. I’ll be fine on my own. Take as long as you need in the shower.”
Amanda stepped away, out my bedroom door. The moment she was gone, I hurried to get undressed. I needed to be on my best game for this dinner. I couldn’t fuck it up.
~ CHAPTER 43 ~
AMANDA
Nick had so much natural charisma; he practically oozed it out of his eyeballs. After he showered and dressed, he joined everyone at the dinner table. He smiled easily. He conversed with his mom as if they were old friends. The guy from this morning, the one who cried uncontrollably in my bed—where was he? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say this wasn’t the same man.
It made me think that his mom likely knew nothing of his panic attacks. Or panic disorder, as I’d heard Nick call it. He kept it hidden from her, and I’m guessing from his dad too. Which seemed like an enormous thing to hide from your parents for however many years he’d been hiding it.
But I knew. And knowing it about him suddenly felt like a privilege. Like he’d let me peak beneath his ‘handsome charismatic guy’ facade.
He’d sure terrified me this morning though. I told him I loved him and it sent him straight into a panic attack. I’d dwelled on that all day. I’d been worried for him, even a little angry at him for it, felt insecure with myself. But here he was, clutching my hand under the table, telling me minutes ago how much he liked my pregnant nipples, of all things, and now he was telling his mom all about the turtle tattoo I’d put on his ass. He told her like he was proud of it. It made me look at his earlier panic attack a little differently. It was suddenly a lot less frightening. His panic attacks were a part of him. They didn’t define him. Or control him. Just one small piece of the guy I loved.
“Amanda did it. She’s incredibly talented.”
“I need to see this tattoo,” his mom insisted. “Where is it?”
“My butt, Mom. You can’t see it.”
“I’ve seen your bottom before.”
“Well, you haven’t seen my adult ass.”
“I’ve seen it,” Finn chimed in. “I was there the day Nick first came in and Amanda put it there. It’s nice. Why don’t you show everyone?”
Samantha giggled.
“Thanks, Finn. But no.”
“So.” His mom grabbed her lemonade and sat back in her chair. Her eyes were on me. “If I can’t see the tattoo, then Amanda, tell me more about when you two first met. What’d you think of Nick? First impression.”
Oh God. So far, I’d kept quiet and reserved. I let go of Nick’s hand, resting my own above the table, giving his mom my complete attention. Well, here goes nothing. “Honestly, at first I didn’t like him much. I thought he seemed cocky and privileged, and what kind of guy comes in wanting a turtle on his ass? But he smelled really good. Like insanely good, he always does. I’ll give him that. My job is to get up close and personal with people’s skin, so smelling them is part of my job. I actually don’t like how most people smell. Most wear too much perfume or too much cologne, or they don’t bathe enough. Or maybe it’s their natural smell I don’t like. It’s something I’ve always been weird about. I think my sense of smell is much more enhanced than most people’s. Or I’m pickier than most people about smell. But Nick, he smelled damn good.”
Crickets.
Great.
I had the whole table’s attention. They were all staring at me. I thought I was being funny, sort of, but my smell talk got little reaction out of everyone. Except Nick. I noticed he had a small smile on his handsome lips. “Anyway. He smelled good. He was easy to talk to. I didn’t sleep that night. We stayed up the whole night together until John came in the next morning. Then Nick left for Maine. That was that. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. But Nick came back to the shop when he returned to town.”
“Yes. Kill Devil Ink was the first place we stopped,” Lou added, her voice so gentle and kind. “Nick had to go there first.”
At least one person seemed pleased with my story, supportive even.
His mom—she was harder to read. Did she like me? Did she dislike me? I couldn’t tell. Did she know I was pregnant?
Had Nick told her?
Because there were two reactions a woman like her would have to something like that. Yay, I’m going to be a grandma. Or... hell no, I don’t want this hussy having my grandbabies.
In which category did this woman fall?
I stayed fairly quiet for the rest of the meal. I let Nick and Finn carry the conversation. I ate the incredible meal Mrs. Jasmine had cooked. I drank her lemonade. But if she didn’t like me, if something about my job or the way Nick met me didn’t please her, then I wasn’t about to bend over backward to kiss her ass.
Her attention shifted to Finn and Lou. When Finn told her about how they met, how they’d been talking every day through the closed door, she laughed and smiled, giggled almost, and that was when I decided—no, this woman didn’t like me.
Dinner ended. I offered to help with the dishes. Mrs. Jasmine denied my help.
“I’m going to go,” I whispered to Nick. The others were setting up to play some kind of card game. I loved card games, but I couldn’t stay any longer. My introvert heart wanted to retreat.
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, stay. Don’t leave because of me.”
“Am I invited over tonight?” he whispered, his blue eyes on me.
God, yes. “Always, Nick.”
“Then I’m fucking leaving right this minute with you. Mom,” he called out loudly across the room. “Dinner was great. We’re leaving. See you tomorrow.”
Mrs. Jasmine hurried out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. She frowned but didn’t argue with Nick. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hugged him, squeezing him hard,
kissing his cheek. For me, I got a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Amanda.”
“You too,” I answered politely.
A minute later, we stepped outside. “Maybe you should stay. Your mom’s here all the way from Maine and you’ve been with me most of that time.”
He breathed in deeply like it was his first bit of fresh air all day. “You couldn’t pay me to go back inside.”
“Nick—”
“Amanda, do you know how often I do what other people want?” He touched a piece of my pink hair that had fallen loose from the updo twist I’d attempted. “All the damn time. All I want right now is to be with you, at your house, in your bed. I get it if you’d rather me stay because of my, you know, instability. I get that. But don’t make me stay when you want me there, too. Because your house is the only place I want to be right now.”
His words washed through me. He didn’t even care that my house was crappy. That it was too small, needed so many repairs, and couldn’t hold a candle to his rental. He didn’t care that his mom didn’t like me. He didn’t even seem to notice it.
“You can come over on one condition.”
“Name your price.”
I stared up at him, stuck on his handsome face, mesmerized by those eyes, a little weak in the knees. “You make love to me. Or. I mean, you properly fuck me.” I felt my face flush. “Deal?”
“Go get in my car.”
“Was that a deal?”
“Yes, go get in my car.” He made a noise in his throat and he touched his forehead to mine. His fingers unbuttoned my top button of my blouse. Then the next. Then the next. “I will properly fuck you all night long. I promise.”
~ CHAPTER 44 ~
NICK
This woman. Amanda was under my skin, in my hair, and floating through my veins. I needed inside her. I needed closer to her. I wanted the night she’d made me promise her. But my need was also muddied with my anxiety. Anxiety, for me, was like this annoying third wheel I would never be rid of. If I had another panic attack tonight, I’d never forgive myself.
After we drove to her house, after she opened the door and let me in, I moved to kiss her. That was what she wanted, right? That was the natural next step, right?
“Hold on,” she said to me, touching my chest, stopping me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I took a step back.
She moved through her house, disappearing into her kitchen.
I took a moment, slipped off my shoes, and turned on one of the table lamps in her living room. I gave myself a little pep talk while I waited. It’s just Amanda. You can be fucking normal for this.
She came back, something in her hand. “Here. Before I forget,” she said to me. She walked up beside me in her living room and handed me her spare key. It was the same key I’d been using each night to get in her house. The one she normally kept outside under the doormat in the back. “You can have this.”
I took it from her fingertips. My own keys were in my pocket. I pulled them out, and I added her single silver key to the rest of mine. “What do you want this to mean?” I asked. I gently tossed my set of keys, complete now with her key, onto the couch. Then I followed with my cell phone, pulling it from my other pocket, getting rid of it too.
“I don’t know. I didn’t really think it through. Don’t read into it too much.”
“Hmm.” I touched the edge of the fabric of her blouse. Earlier I’d unbuttoned a couple of the buttons. They still were unbuttoned, showing a hint of her perfect body underneath. I undid the next button in the line. “I’m going to read into it, Amanda. I’m going to read the hell into it.”
“What—what will you read it as?”
I undid another button, another, and then the last. I moved the material aside brushing my fingers over her round, pregnant stomach. It was still little enough to hide, like she had done today, but round enough to really see it when you had the sort of vantage point I now had. “I’m reading it as an open invitation into your bed every night.” I moved to the couch. Still touching her stomach, I brought my lips to where I knew our baby was somewhere underneath.
“You pretty much already have that.”
“I’ll read it as I can come over now a little earlier than midnight each night. Maybe catch you for dinner sometimes. Maybe leave my toothbrush here. Maybe, finally, get your phone number.” I took a breath, hoping I wasn’t terrifying her. Because I wasn’t terrifying myself at all. I wanted to take this next step with her. I wanted it all with her. “Hi baby,” I whispered to her stomach before I sat back against the couch cushion.
“Okay,” Amanda said. “I can’t.”
Can’t what?
I don’t know what sparked fire in her, but Amanda ignited. She peeled off her shirt the rest of the way. She kicked off her flats and shimmied down her pants. Hell, her underwear too.
“Take off your pants,” she whispered. “Take off your shirt.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed my shirt from behind and yanked it off over my head. I tossed it aside as she unhooked her bra, pushing it away, showing off her beautiful tits. Then I worked down my pants, kicking them off, just as Amanda, naked now, straddled my lap. She settled in against me, warm and wide open, as she grabbed my face, digging her fingers into my hair.
She kissed me hard. She kissed me with passion, with angst, with hunger. “I love you,” she said against my mouth. “I’m so in love with you.” She squeezed her arms around my neck. She gave me more of her kisses. Not just my mouth—my face, my jaw, my neck. “I love you,” she said again.
It was my ‘hi baby’ comment that ignited this spark, I realized. I saw a glimpse of this fire when she interrupted my shower yesterday. She was always so strong, confident, and independent. This was her vulnerability, translated into love, on full display.
I took her face in my hands, so she’d slow down. “Hey, I love you too.”
She had tears in her eyes.
I hadn’t meant to make her cry.
“I’m going to take care of you. You and our baby. I promise.”
“Good. Keep proving that.”
“I will.”
I would. I really would. She’d never given me many details on her past relationships. I’d never asked. But someone, at some point, had hurt her. I’d never thought that of her before. I’d never seen it until now. She kept that pain well hidden. Whereas, with Emma, I think I wore my pain on my sleeve. Not anymore. Amanda had taken that pain away for me. I wanted to do the same, take any of hers away too.
I adjusted under her. I brought the head of my cock into position against her opening. I pushed inside. She moved on top of me, helping to guide my full length all the way in. “Yes, Nick! Oh God, yes!”
I closed my eyes.
She felt so damn good.
So wet. So warm.
She started to move, riding me, working her hips, coming up and down hard on my cock. “Fuck, woman. I love you.” I tipped my head back, smiling, enjoying this beautiful woman who had my whole heart, who I think loved my crazy just as much as she loved my calm, cool, and collected self. She wouldn’t be here right now if she didn’t love both sides to me.
After another moment, I snapped open my eyes. It was my turn. I moved, pushing her body down onto the couch cushions so I could be on top, so I could do the work. My fingertips dug into her colorful thighs and pushed her legs wider, sinking inside her this way.
Then I went crazy on my girl. Fucking her the same way I had our first night together. Without control. Without worry. Without anxiety. I felt her flesh, breathed in her scent, and soaked in the moment. Then I touched her clit to get her to scream. When I felt her let go, when I knew I had her at my full mercy, I slowed down. Now I kissed her softly.
I kept strumming my fingers over her wetness, while pulsing carefully, easy, gentle strokes inside her. The moment seemed to last and last. And when she finally came down off that high, I let go. I came inside her. Nothing had ever felt so raw, so right, s
o real.
Thoroughly exhausted now, the entire day catching up with me, I collapsed on the couch beside her. I inched her body over so I could fit beside her on the couch without falling to the floor.
She curled into my chest. “Careful, Nick. Or I might ask you to move in with me next.”
I smiled.
I felt sleep drifting over me fast.
“If you asked, I would say yes.”
“You’re bullshitting me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then move in with me.”
“Okay.”
~ CHAPTER 45 ~
AMANDA
The next few days were a blur. Of work. Of sex. Of Nick. I was working more than usual because I needed the extra money before this baby came. But when I wasn’t at work, and when Nick wasn’t at work, we were back at my house, in my bed, or in today’s case, on the kitchen table. Maybe it was part of my pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t get enough of my handsome man.
He seemed to be having a similar problem, because in the middle of cooking dinner, he’d whispered, “lay down on the table.” We’d finished now. My skin still tingled in the aftermath. I eased off the wooden tabletop, adjusting the gym shorts I’d changed into after work, feeling shy as hell. We hadn’t even bothered undressing that time. We’d barely even said hello.
Nick grabbed two glasses from one of my cabinets and ran both under the tap water at my sink. He handed me one, while he drank from the second. He smiled at me while he took a sip. His blue eyes drifted down my body.
“Stop,” I said to him.
“What?”
“Stop. Focus on dinner.”
“Shit, dinner.” He set down his glass, rushing to the pan that was sizzling on the stove. “I burned it.” He moved the pan off the hot burner and turned off the stove. “Sorry, that was my fault. I got distracted when you came into the kitchen in those shorts.”
“The crappy gray shorts I wear to bed turned you on?” The ones I’d owned half my life? The only ones lose enough to fit my pregnant belly?
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