Made to Love

by Medina, Heidi

  “Myself. To keep my hands off you at least until after dinner.” He released my hand and traced his fingers lightly up my arm.

  I frowned. “Well, that was kinda dumb.” I pressed my ass against his cock again for good measure.

  Nathan groaned, and kissed the soft spot behind my ear. “Yeah, well, I was going for a little less sex-crazed teenager and more mature, responsible adult.” His fingers danced down across my stomach and back up again, before curling around my boob and resting there. I closed my eyes in delight. Already my body was responding to his touch, and his fingers weren’t even moving any more.

  I was lying naked on Nathan’s couch, in broad daylight, doing the closest thing to cuddling I’d ever done. The men of my past relationships wouldn’t recognize this Reagan. I didn’t even recognize myself.

  Nathan sighed heavily and pushed himself up on one elbow. “I really did intend for us to eat, though.” He swung a leg over me and lifted up off the couch, shrugged his dress shirt off his shoulders and handed it to me as he looked around the room. “Here, put this on. I have no idea where the rest of your clothes went.” He straightened and zipped up his pants before heading into the kitchen.

  I sat up, took his shirt and slipped my arms into the sleeves. It was entirely too big, and I had to roll the sleeves up three times, but as I pulled the soft, Nathan-smelling cotton around me, I decided then and there it would be my weekend attire of choice. At least until we left tomorrow.

  The thought of leaving here tomorrow brought my mental plans to somehow smuggle the shirt into my suitcase unnoticed to a screeching halt. It was easy to forget reality while secluded here away from prying us. It was just the two of us, and inhibitions and insecurities had fled. But our reality was that he was my boss, well, my boss’s boss, and I was a freak with serious commitment issues.

  I walked into the kitchen, where he was already pulling chicken salad croissants from a Panera bag. I took the plate he handed me and sat cross legged on a chair. “So. What does this mean?”

  Nathan raised an eyebrow as he sat across from me. “What does what mean?”

  I fingered the edge of my croissant. “This. You, me. .us.”

  He leaned back in his chair and I felt his eyes on me for a moment. I certainly knew how to ruin a good mood, didn’t I? Why couldn’t I just leave it alone and go with the flow? “Right. Well, what do you want it to mean?”

  That question I hadn’t expected, and it made me pause. What did I want it to mean? “I don’t know.”

  “Hey,” Nathan said softly. “Look at me.” I stopped playing with my food and raised my eyes to meet his. “Are you asking me if this means we’re together? As in, like dating, or whatever you want to label it?”

  My face flushed at his directness. It was exactly what I was asking. Or trying to, anyway. Yeah, I wanted to know if I should now refer to him as my boyfriend (had I referred to anyone as such before? Ever? He may be the first.), if we were keeping it casual and seeing other people (him, not me), or were we exclusive? This was new to me and there were so many things to consider.

  He tilted his head as he studied me. “What are you worried about?”

  His ability to read me unnerved me. I went back to inspecting my sandwich. “It’s . . .it’s easy being here with you, ya know? Here, away from everyone. But . . .”

  “What happens when we go back?” He finished for me.

  I nodded.

  “We’ll need to practice discretion, obviously. And I realize being with me places most of the risk on you. So I guess what happens next is really up to you.”

  Great.

  “And the other? Are you okay with that?”

  He paused. “The other,” he repeated. “You mean the part where I can’t hug you?”

  Yeah. That.

  “Honestly? No, I don’t think I’m okay with that. But I will accept it, for now.” He reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “Like I said before, whenever you’re ready.”

  He wanted to know, and I eventually would have to tell him. If this thing between us was going to progress into anything real, anything substantial, he would have to know. I knew that, and it scared the shit out of me.

  I traced the light blonde hairs on his knuckles with my other hand. “I don’t want this to end,” I whispered. “When we go back, I mean.”

  “Then it doesn’t,” he whispered back. “One day at a time, baby.”

  He released my hand and we finished lunch. I carried our plates to the sink and rinsed them off, and turned to find Nathan behind me, his phone in hand as he snapped a picture of me.

  I pulled his shirt tighter around me. “What’s that for?”

  “A little something to get me through the afternoon,” he answered. “Damn, girl, you are sexy as fuck in that shirt.” He pocketed his phone then curled a finger at me, beckoning me to come closer. “Come here.”

  He had that look in his eyes again. The same one he’d been sporting when he’d found me on the deck an hour earlier. My stomach clenched in anticipation as I moved toward him, the right side of his shirt slipping off my shoulder. I knew he had to go back to the office for a bit, but damn if I didn’t selfishly want him to remain here the rest of the day, doing nothing more than letting me satisfy what was proving to be my insatiable need for his body.

  He stared down at me through hooded eyes, and again I was seized by the ridiculous notion that he could somehow see into the very depths of my soul. Hating to think about what he might find there, I leaned forward and lightly kissed his lips, breaking eye contact. His hands came up to gently cup my face as he deepened the kiss, then lifted his head and looked at me. There was something new there, in his eyes, something I couldn’t quite place.

  “What?” I questioned softly.

  He didn’t answer for a few seconds more, then gave one short shake of his head, effectively breaking the odd mood that had seemed to settle over us. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I made dinner reservations at six.” Kissed my cheek. “Or, you know. We could stay in.” A kiss on the other cheek.

  I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. “Dinner sounds good. Dressy or casual?” I whispered.

  Three kisses along my neck. “Whatever you wear is fine. Wear this damn shirt for all I care. In fact, I insist.” The words were muffled as he kissed under my jaw.

  I grabbed his head and pulled his mouth to mine for another quick, hard kiss. “You’re gonna be late.”

  “I’m the boss. They’ll wait,” he countered quickly. He groaned and stepped away, disentangling himself from my arms that had found their way to his shoulders. “But you’re right. I should probably go.” He picked up his keys and turned toward the door. “Tonight. You, me, dinner. And fucking. Lots of fucking.”

  I laughed. “Promise?”

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Baby, you have no idea.” With a wink, he was gone.

  Nathan

  I watched her sleep.

  She was curled on her side, facing me, one hand beneath her cheek and the other on the bed between us. Long lashes covered those gorgeous amber colored eyes, and soft breaths moved through her slightly parted lips. Her dark hair lay in a tangled mass behind her on the pillow and I resisted the urge to bury my face in it and inhale her scent.

  What was she doing to me?

  It had started out so simple. Get her in my bed, thereby breaking the mysterious appeal, and move on. Female companionship was something I enjoyed, but not something I ever worked too hard at. I had already exerted more effort into seducing this woman than I had with anyone else, and had found myself doing things I often considered a ridiculous waste of time in the past. Things like movies, walks in the park, late night phone calls, mid-day texts just see how her day was going, laying here, wide awake, up before the sun just to watch her sleep. I didn’t do these things, and that should have been my first clue.

  I had ignored the signs.

  I just had to get her into m
y bed, and the appeal would be lost. That was all it was.

  Except it wasn’t.

  It hadn’t lessened her appeal at all. If anything, it had increased it. Exponentially. I had sat through three hours of meetings yesterday morning, listening with half an ear and giving out the expected responses, when the entire time visions of Reagan had danced through my brain. Of how she’d looked at me with those eyes as she stood in my shower, scared, pleading and yet fiercely determined . Of the way her long legs had wrapped around me as I had carried her to the bed, water cascading off our naked, heated skin. The sound she’d made when my tongue had plunged its way to the very core of her. Teeth that had bit my shoulder, more than once, and nails that had scraped my back raw. The tight clenching of her muscles around me when she came.

  All of it.

  I hadn’t been able to get back to her fast enough. I’d adjourned the meeting prematurely, making up some lame excuse I now couldn’t remember, and had raced back to my apartment, oddly panicked that I’d dreamed the entire thing and she wouldn’t be there.

  But she had been. She’d been sitting on the deck, talking on her phone. And I’d been seized with the overwhelming desire to be inside her again, to feel that mouth on me, to make her mine.

  By some random act of God, and with the help of the nine hundred times I’d pulled up her picture on my phone, I’d made it through the rest of the afternoon meetings. Dinner had been nice, the conversation light and kept away from the heavy matters that already cast shadows over our impending involvement, the food delicious. All of it merely a formality. Something to bide away the time until we were back at the apartment and the real appetites gnawing at us could be satisfied.

  Appetites that had kept us busy for hours.

  And now, in the twilight hours of morning, watching her sleep, I was suddenly attacked with the insane thought that had skipped through my mind earlier when I’d came home for lunch: I could spend the rest of my life in her arms, and it still not be enough.

  I drew in a shaky breath. This wasn’t happening. I mean, I would eventually, someday, finally have my fill of her. Right?

  Right?

  I rubbed my hands over my face, and glanced at the clock. I hated to wake her, but we needed to get on the road. Brooke was due to arrive back home today, and Reagan was hoping to beat her there and avoid any questions. I tucked a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek back behind her ear and lightly kissed her cheek.

  “Reagan,” I whispered.

  She stirred and mumbled incoherent words I didn’t understand, but then settled back into the pillow with a sigh. I kissed her cheek again and slightly nudged her with my shoulder. “Baby, come on. We gotta get up.”

  She peeked at me through her lashes. “It can’t possibly be morning,” she grumbled.

  “Close enough.”

  She rolled over to her back and closed her eyes. “Let’s leave tomorrow.”

  “As much as I find the idea enticing, we can’t. Brooke. Work. Facing the real world. Remember?” I chased away the slight uneasiness that flittered through my brain at the thought of leaving the sanctuary of the last two days, heading back to the city, the office, and the watchful eyes of my father. . .all of it. We’d come a long way in this thing between us the last few days, and the idea that things could be catapulted backward once we were back home, and she got to thinking too hard—well, it kinda scared the shit out of me. Because I certainly hadn’t had my fill of her yet, no matter how much I tried to reason with myself.

  She pulled the covers tighter around her and frowned, eyes still closed. “Do we have to?”

  I leaned over and kissed her mouth. “We do.” I yanked the covers off her, and she shrieked and rolled to the side of the bed.

  “Okay, okay! I’m going.”

  I watched as she stood, beautifully naked, slivers of pale, grey light coming through the blinds and crisscrossing her body in a contrast of light and dark. And I wondered again if I would ever get tired of seeing her this way.

  She’d found her tank on the floor in front of my dresser, and was scanning the room through squinty eyes, looking for her shorts. I pointed to the far wall, across the room, where the shorts lay in a crumpled heap. She shook her head as she picked them up. “What is it with you and flinging my clothes? I’ve been finding them everywhere all weekend. I found my panties on the kitchen table last night. I mean, really? We haven’t even, you know, in the kitchen. Let alone on the table.”

  I watched her ramble as she put her shorts on and stumbled to my bathroom, flipping on the light. I shrugged. “You’re right, we haven’t, and I had no idea you were this eager to do so. We’ll rectify that as soon as possible.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me over her shoulder and turned back to her reflection in the mirror. “I thought you said we had to get up.”

  “Oh, I’m up,” I shot back.

  She turned back around, her eyes taking in the sight of my obvious arousal, barely covered by the sheet. She threw the washcloth she’d been using to wash her face over at me and it hit my bare chest. “Dork!”

  I said nothing, just smiled as I watched her. I knew I couldn’t keep her here, but I wanted to. I wanted to badly. I flung the washcloth aside and sat up. “Alright. Let’s get you home.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Reagan

  I unlocked the door and walked into the apartment, moving to let Nathan pass as he carried in my luggage. I’d declined his offer to help—it was only one bag and I was not an invalid—but he’d insisted. And since Brooke wasn’t due home for another hour or two, I’d relented. Besides, I wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

  Until I walked into the kitchen and saw the suitcases, airline tags securely attached to the handles, standing guard in front of the fridge. My heart pounded as I whirled around and stared at Nathan with wide eyes.

  Brooke. She was home. She was here. And she was about to discover me sneaking in with my boss after a weekend away.

  NO!NO!NO!

  Nathan took in the luggage, looked back at the obvious panic on my face and opened his mouth to speak. Whatever he was going to say was lost as Brooke called to me from down the hall.

  “Reagan, is that you?” Footsteps followed the words, and I frantically pointed toward the door, motioning for Nathan to hurry and exit through it. But of course, that was ridiculous. The door was too far away and Brooke was already here.

  “I’ve been wondering—“ Her voice cut off as she caught the sight of Nathan standing silently behind me. None of us spoke for several beats and as cliché as it sounded, I desperately wished for the floor to open wide and swallow me whole. How in the world was I going to explain this?

  Think, Reagan. Think!!

  Brooke’s eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight to one foot and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d obviously been home a while if the overly large My Little Kitty t-shirt she was wearing was any indication. Her eyes also looked puffy, but I had no time to dwell. “Seriously?”

  This was directed at me, and in a tone I could not decipher or understand. The sudden anger surrounding her was palpable and I opened my mouth and then closed it, completely unsure how to proceed. This was the very thing I had hoped to avoid. I mean, I had planned to eventually tell Brooke about me and Nathan. If we lasted for any real length of time I would have to—she was my roommate. But I hadn’t really thought much past that, and certainly wasn’t prepared to divulge this information now.

  Nathan cleared his throat. “Hello, Brooke.” He set my bag on the floor beside him and turned to me. “Thank you, Miss Andrews, for all of your hard work this weekend. It did not go unnoticed. We will go over the details tomorrow.” His eyes flickered as he looked at me, but saying no more, he dipped his head in Brooke’s direction and with a wave, was gone.

  I knew it was stupid, because I knew he was trying to keep up a pretense for my benefit, but I hated the distant indifference that had been in his voice when he’d made his exit. The easy way
he had all but dismissed me as if I was again nothing more than one of his employees.

  Like I said, stupid.

  I turned back to Brooke, who continued to stand there, anger radiating from her in waves. She raised her eyebrow at me in question. “What is Nathan Preston doing bringing you home on a Sunday, carrying your bag over his shoulder?”

  Let’s just jump right in, shall we?

  I took a deep breath, determined to relay as little as possible. I picked up my bag and slung it up on the counter. “We had some last minute changes to the Johnson & Johnson project I am working on that we needed to hash out. Mr. Preston had to be in Boston, so we arranged a meeting with them from there.” It was a lie, flimsy at best. Even I wouldn’t have believed it. I wondered why I was even trying at this point when I had so obviously been found out, but I remained stubborn.

  Brooke didn’t believe it either. “They invented teleconferences for that sort of thing, you know.” She tilted her head as she stared me down. “I hope you don’t think I am naïve enough to believe that bullshit.”

  I bristled at her tone. “What is this about, Brooke?”

  “What is this about? It’s about you coming home with your boss after what appears to be a weekend away together.”

  I slung my bag over my shoulder and moved past her down the hall. “But, why? What does that even have to do with you, and why are you so angry?” I felt a little anger of my own rising to the surface. In the face of unwanted questions, I reverted to what I knew: dodge and deflect.

  And really. What did it have to do with her?

  She followed me. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  Oh. My. God.

  I tossed the bag on my bed and turned around, hands on my hips. “Really, Brooke?”

  “Yes or no?”

  I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell her no. And I wanted to tell her to take her nosy ass and get the hell out of my room. But what would be the point? We both knew the answer to her question and denial at this point would just be insulting. I threw up my hands, and shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”