by Natalie Ward
The sound of the towel hitting the floor sends my heart into some kind of free fall, crashing into my stomach, which is already spinning. I see my hands shaking in my lap, even as I hear the sound of fabric rustling and know he’s putting on the clothes I got for him. I still don’t look at him, even as the mattress sinks with the weight of his body beside me, my fingers tightening in the fabric of the duvet. I don’t want him to see how much they are shaking.
“Are you tired?” I eventually ask, trying desperately to get back to something resembling normal. But the words sound strangled, as though they are caught in my throat. My heart is still pounding inside my chest and I wish I’d put some music on, anything to hide the sound of my obvious nerves.
“No,” he answers, his voice low as he gently pulls the duvet from my hands.
It’s only then that I finally glance over at him, see that anything that might be good about the male anatomy is now safely hidden beneath the track pants he wears. I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or disappointed. But as my eyes travel up to his, I realise I’m wrong, because even though there’s plenty of good stuff that’s now hidden, there’s still plenty of good stuff left for me to see.
He hasn’t put the t-shirt on and oh my god if he doesn’t look even better than I remember from that night in his bar a week ago. I have to swallow hard as my eyes rake over his torso, taking in everything. Every muscle and every undulation. Every inch of bare skin and the smattering of hair across his chest. The trail of it that runs down his stomach and disappears somewhere beneath those track pants.
It actually makes my head spin, sending it on the same path as my stomach, my pounding heart floating somewhere in between them.
I swallow hard; force myself to keep my breathing even as my eyes gravitate to his chest. The name is still there, of course it is. But it doesn’t it hurt to see it anymore, not when I know what it really means. I feel the apology that still needs to be said lingering at the back of my throat again.
“Are you tired?” he asks, before I have a chance to speak.
I shake my head slowly, finally lifting my eyes to his face. His eyes are soft in the low light as he watches me; a tiny smile pulling at his mouth.
“What did you do for the rest of your day?” he asks.
His question surprises me. I shrug. “Not much. Caught up on some reading for work.”
“Are things any better with you and Sarah?” he asks, folding his hands in his lap.
My eyes move to them as though I can’t stop myself because I know exactly what lies beneath them. Just seeing him, sitting here half-naked in my bed has my heart racing in my chest. I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks, the one trait I can’t hide and the one that is most definitely the downside to my physiology.
“Em?” he says, unlocking his fingers and reaching up, tilting my chin back up to his face. He smiles at me again, but it’s kind, sweet.
I shake my head. “No, we haven’t spoken since that night in your bar.”
He looks at me, a questioning look on his face. “You should sort things out with her,” he says. “It’s not worth ruining a friendship over one stupid night out.”
“It wasn’t all stupid,” I say, the words out before I can even censor them. I feel my cheeks heat even more as Nick’s smile reappears.
“No,” he says, his eyes on mine. “It wasn’t.”
I swallow hard, knowing that as weird as all of this is, he still deserves that apology for the way I acted that night, for all the things I now know about everything with his bar and his sister, for running out on him and never giving him a chance to explain.
“About that night,” I start, holding up a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth to speak. “I really am sorry about the things I said to you, about the way I acted and my reaction to the tattoo. It was…it was unfair and you didn’t deserve any of it.”
He shakes his head. “Apology accepted, Emma, I promise.”
“I misunderstood,” I continue. “About…” I trail off, even as I gesture to the tattoo on his exposed chest. My eyes move down to the ink again, to the name of his sister, branded above his heart. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s been through with that. How he’s possibly still in one piece? I can barely cope with the death I see at work and I don’t even know those people.
His fingers slide around my wrist, just like they did this morning. They’re softer this time though, as they pull my hand to his chest, flattening my fingers against her name. “You weren’t to know,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s okay, really.”
His skin is warm, still slightly damp, but it’s the beat of his heart beneath my fingertips that really surprises me. It’s strong, rapid and tapping out an accelerated rhythm that mirrors what’s going on inside my own chest right now.
Maybe he’s as nervous as I am?
The thought actually makes me feel a little better as I look up at him. “Maybe not,” I say, the words catching in my throat as my own nervous system goes into overload at his proximity, his touch…his near nakedness. “But it was still a shitty way to act, shitty thing to do.”
He smiles, watching me. He looks so cool and calm, collected and not the least bit nervous. Is he really good at hiding it or does this none of bother him like it seems.
“I’m actually glad you stopped it, you know,” he says, surprising me.
“You are?”
He nods, his smile widening. “I am.”
“W…why?” I stammer.
Nick yanks on my wrist now, pulling me so I’m straddling him. My brain goes into meltdown as everything I was imagining beneath those track pants is magnified, a hundred fold.
“Because,” he says, his eyes on my lips, fingers letting go of my wrist as both of his hands now slide up my thighs to my hips. I feel his fingers, gently squeezing me as the tips of them slide ever so slightly under the edge of my leggings, lowering them just the tiniest amount.
I have to force myself to breathe, swallowing hard as I beg my heart to get itself under control so it doesn’t smash right through my chest and shatter all over him. Nick grins at me, as though he’s reading my mind and every dirty thought that’s now suddenly materialised there because of where I find myself sitting.
“Because,” he repeats, his breath warm against my skin. “I didn’t want a random backroom hook-up with you, Emma,” he whispers, his eyes finally leaving my lips and making their way up to mine. I stare back at him, loosing myself in the intensity of his blue gaze.
“You didn’t?” I finally manage to ask.
Nick shakes his head. “No,” he says, firmly. “I didn’t.”
“Why?” I ask, apparently having lost the ability to speak or sound like a semi-intelligent person.
He chuckles now and it’s enough to have me melting in his lap. “Because,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer.
“Yeah?”
He smiles, the action a mix of sweet and sexy. “Because,” he whispers again. I nod my head, as though I’m agreeing with him when I barely even know what he’s saying to me anymore. “That’s not who you are,” he continues leaning closer so his lips brush against mine.
I groan against him, my mouth closing over his as his hands slide up my hips and sides, pulling the t-shirt I wear with them. I pull back, my arms going up of their own accord and letting him pull it off me. He throws it across the room and when I open my eyes again, he’s looking at me, that dark blue stare of his now meeting mine. I lower my arms; my hands going to his chest, the smooth warmth of his skin sending heat back up my arms. Nick’s eyes never leave mine. They watch only me, silently watching…waiting.
I smile nervously, unsure what I should do next. He returns the smile, his hands moving back to my hips before they slide up my spine, wrapping around my shoulders as he pulls me against him.
His lips are both firm and soft against mine, the kiss gentle, slow, as though he’s trying not to scare me. I feel my whole body melting against his, the electricity of our to
uch as his chest meets mine. His hands trace a path back down my spine, wrapping around my hips as he slowly rolls me off and beneath him. I open my eyes, see him hovering over me, a smile on his face before he leans in and presses a kiss to my shoulder.
His hips are against mine, telling me everything that this is doing to him. Somehow it gives me courage. Allows me to push the leggings down my hips, kicking them off my ankles even though it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like this I barely even know what I should be doing. Nick doesn’t stop kissing me as I now push the track pants he’s wearing down his hips, my hands smoothing over his warm skin. His mouth is still on mine, gentle but insistent as his arms slide beneath me, wrapping around me and pulling me closer.
He feels so warm against my skin and it’s hard to believe our body temperature can possibly stay so even. His tongue slides into my mouth and I let out a groan so loud, it’s embarrassing. But he doesn’t stop, letting out his own noises even as he moves his body so that it completely covers mine. When he pulls back, I open my eyes again. Nick looks down at me, a tiny smile on his face.
“You okay?” he whispers.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“We can stop,” he says unconvincingly.
I shake my head, still unable to speak.
Nick stares at me for a second longer before he leans in to kiss me again. I’m about to try and say something about protection and the condoms are in the drawer, when he moves, his mouth kissing a path down my neck, across my shoulder and back over my ribs. He keeps going, kissing down my stomach, over my belly button and suddenly I don’t have a voice at all, let alone words.
When he disappears between my legs, I feel like I don’t even have a brain, my body nothing but heat and nerve impulses, rapidly firing beneath my skin, which is somehow still containing them.
“Nick,” I murmur, my fingers gripping his hair.
I’m not even sure I say it out loud, because if I do, it makes no difference. He doesn’t stop and I don’t want him to. I don’t think I could anyway because he’s doing things to my body that I don’t think have ever been done to it before.
After what feels like forever and a millisecond at the same time, he finally hovers over me again. I lie spent against the sheets, unsure if I can even move, let alone form a coherent sentence. He laughs a little, leaning in to kiss me before his eyes flick to the bedside table. I know what he’s asking, and I know exactly what I want to happen next. When he sees that, his smile widens, even as his hand reaches out for the drawer.
When it happens, my body betrays me again, telling him exactly how I feel, exactly what he’s doing to me. I feel his smile against my mouth, the tightening of his grip on me, even as my hips move up to meet his, wanting.
It lasts forever, my mind and my body so exhausted and exhilarated that I’m not sure I’m still conscious at the end.
Afterwards, Nick pulls me against him, his body scorching hot against mine as he wraps his arms around me. I can feel the pounding of his heart against my back, the rapid breaths as they brush against my neck.
“You okay?” I ask.
I feel the silent laugh. “Yes.”
I smile even though he can’t see it, closing my eyes as he tightens his arms a little more.
~ Nick
This time when I wake, I know exactly where I am, the smile forming even before I’ve opened my eyes. I roll onto my side, my hands reaching for her only to find the bed beside me is empty. My eyes shoot open just in time to see Emma walking in and closing the bedroom door behind her.
Like yesterday, she’s carrying two mugs of coffee, only this time she looks nervous as hell. Very different to yesterday when I woke up in her bed. Then again, a lot of things are different this time.
And as much as I’ve tried to tell myself I shouldn’t be doing this because it’s a mistake, I know it’s too late for that now. I’ve had a taste and the only thing I want now is more.
“Hey,” I say, smiling up at her.
She flicks her eyes at me before putting a cup down on the table beside me. “Hey.”
I lift my arm, my fingers slipping under her t-shirt and drifting across her stomach. Her hands shake a little and she immediately puts down the second cup of coffee, which is exactly what I was aiming for. Curling my hand around her hip I pull her onto the bed, her body falling onto mine. She lets out a huff of surprise before I pull her head down to mine and kiss her. She tastes like coffee and I wonder how long she’s been awake for.
“Nick,” she murmurs, her hands on my chest as she tries to push herself up.
I grin against her mouth, pulling her closer.
“Nick,” she tries again. “I have to get up.”
“Why?” I ask, rolling us over so she now lies beneath me.
“Because I have to,” she says.
I pull back a little and stare down at her. “You said you weren’t working today.”
Emma’s eyes flick nervously away, looking anywhere but at me. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on here, but something is definitely off. This is not the same woman that was moaning beneath me last night, whispering my name in a way that drove me fucking crazy.
“Em?” I ask, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
“Don’t you have things to do?” she finally asks, turning back to look at me.
“No,” I say. “Bar’s closed, remember?”
She lets out a sigh, her eyes moving to the ceiling. “Surely you have other stuff going on,” she says. “You don’t need to hang around here.”
She definitely won’t look at me now, but the penny finally drops as to what’s going on with her. She expects me to leave. To roll out of bed and go as though everything that happened here last night meant nothing. It pisses me off that she can think this; that she still thinks I’m that kind of guy. I thought we were past this shit.
“Whoa, okay,” I say, rolling off her. “What the hell’s going on here, Emma?” I’m staring at her, waiting for her to turn and look at me.
“What do you mean?” she asks angrily.
“You really just expect me to get up and leave?” I ask. “That we’ve had our fun and I got what I was after and now I’ll just go?”
Emma bites her bottom lip, shrugging a little as her cheeks start to colour. “Isn’t that what you want?” she asks quietly.
“Jesus, Emma. No,” I say, shoving a hand through my hair. “Did you actually listen to anything I said to you last night?”
Emma rolls away and sits up, sliding her legs off the side of the bed, her back to me. She curls forward and under the thin fabric of her t-shirt, I can see the bumps and contours of her spine. It feels like forever ago that I was sliding my fingers along those curves and finally giving in to what I was still afraid to admit I wanted.
She says nothing, just sits there.
“Is that what you want?” I eventually ask. “Just a one night hook-up?”
Emma shrugs and I’m starting to get pissed off with all of this. I push up off the bed, sliding over to sit beside her. She doesn’t look at me, but she doesn’t resist when I pull the hand that’s hidden beneath her leg and take it in mine.
“Emma,” I repeat, the word soft. She looks sideways at me, not quite meeting my eyes but at least it’s an improvement. “That’s not what I want, I thought you knew that. I thought I made that perfectly clear last night?” She nods, still not saying anything. I take a deep breath. “Is it what you want?” She shakes her head and I immediately feel my body relax, the tension I didn’t realise was building, slowly dissipating. “So why are you trying to push me away now?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, her voice small.
“You don’t know?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
I thread my fingers though hers. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”
She exhales hard. “I, I don’t know how to make this work, how to…how to do this.” As she says the words, her other hand flicks
between us.
I smile. “Em, nobody does.”
She looks up at me now and her face is a mixture of confusion and sadness and fear. “But I’m really bad at it,” she says.
I laugh this time, shaking my head at her. “No,” I say. “You’re not.”
She nods. “I am, you’ll see. You’ll get frustrated because I’m always working. And even when I’m not, there will be times when I’m on call so it will feel like I’m working. I’ll get phone calls and interruptions at all hours. And work, it’s…” She pauses, collecting her breath. “I work such crazy hours, you’ll eventually start to hate me for it.”
I try and give her a smile, my fingers brushing over her knuckles. I don’t fully understand where all of this is coming from, but it’s clearly something that bothers her, something that’s been an issue for her in the past.
“Em, if anyone knows what working crazy hours is like, it’s me.”
She shakes her head again. “Not crazy like mine,” she says. “Sometimes it feels as though all I do is work and I know it will get to you. You’ll be pissed because I can’t be somewhere when you want me to be, or I’ll be late when you need me to be on time and I don’t want to do that to…to this…to us.”
“Emma,” I say, falling back on the bed as I pull her down with me. She curls into my side, her head on my shoulder and I can feel the softness of her breath on my neck. I wonder how it is that she can so easily say this won’t work when we haven’t even begun to try. But at the same time, I wonder how it is I’m so easily willing to at all when I swore I never would.
I pull her closer, ignoring that voice in my head as I wrap my arms around her. “Don’t worry so much about the future,” I tell her, trying to not to scare either of us with these words. “Just focus on the us in the now, the present?”
Emma’s fingers uncurl from their fists, one hand reaching out to brush the ink on my forearm; and now she’s free.
“Aren’t you afraid?” she asks quietly.
“No,” I say, even though there’s a huge part of me that is.