When I'm with You (Hope Town #3)

by Harper Sloan

  I want to demand that he is mine.

  I want to scream for him to never stop.

  I want to sob that I love him.

  Instead, when I feel myself detonate into a million pieces, I open my mouth and do what I was told to do.

  “NATE!” My voice breaks at the end, and I sob as I come, and come, and come. “Nate, Nate, Naaate,” I continue, unable to even think about saying anything but his name.

  Just when the intensity almost becomes too much, I feel his rhythm falter before he gives one final thrust forward. His fingers dig into the tender flesh at my sides, but all that is forgotten when I feel him pulse inside me as the heat of his come enters my body.

  My vision clears to a hazy fog when he falls and covers me with his weight. The feeling welcome and wanted. I look up and search his face, unsure what to say after that, but words aren’t needed, not when our bodies said everything for us. He adjusts his weight until he’s leaning on one elbow and turns my head to look at him with a gentle touch of his hand cupping my face.

  “Ember,” he whispers, ghosting a kiss over my lips. “My Ember. I’m never letting go, baby. Not now. Not ever. And pretty soon, your head is going to catch up with your heart and you’re going to understand that. I meant it; I want all of you. I’m going to make it my mission to show you, prove to you, that I’m worthy of getting that gift from you again.” I open my mouth, not even sure what I’m going to say, but he just bends and gives me a slow, wet, and beautiful kiss.

  A long while later, after he had switched us so that his back was to the bed and I was in his arms, I rested my head against his chest as he breathed slow and deep. Even in his sleep, he held me tightly, and at that moment, I knew he didn’t have anything to prove to me because my head had already caught up with my heart.

  He’s had it since I was seventeen years old. Even when I thought it would never heal when he turned me away a year later, he still held it. He will always have all of me.

  Always.

  MONDAY

  “I WISH YOU DIDN’T HAVE to go,” I whisper against his chest, my body still coming down from the fourth climax he’s given me. We haven’t been able to get enough of each other since the first time he took me a week ago.

  His arms tighten around me, and I feel him press his lips against the top of my head. He had just shown up a few hours earlier, right as I had been making my way out to the studio, and he took me roughly against the front door the first time until I was screaming out one hell of a hello.

  The second time was when my back was on the couch; he held my legs apart as he kneeled on the floor between them.

  The third was against my own hand as I swallowed every drop of him as he pulsed in my mouth.

  And the last, we had finally made it to where we are now, a tangle of sweaty limbs in my bed.

  “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he agrees. “I thought it would be easier to spend less time at Dirty now that we have Dent on as a manager, but things have just been crazy. I shouldn’t complain, but fuck, I would rather be here with you than doing a bunch of paperwork.”

  “We’ve had plenty of time together, Nate.” We haven’t, but I don’t want to make him feel bad when I know he’s stressed about finding a balance between being the owner of a very popular club and my boyfriend.

  Boyfriend? Is that what he is? I mean he’s said that he was mine and I was his, but he’s never spoken the words.

  “Slipping into your bed in the middle of the night does not equal plenty of time. I haven’t even taken you on a date, Em.”

  I push up on the hand that had been resting against his chest and look down at him. “Did I complain?”

  I feel the rumbles of his silent laughter against the palm. “It’s been a week since I promised I would prove to you that I deserved the gift of you. Two weeks since we decided to be together, and so far, the only thing I’ve been able to do is have dinner at the club between the little time I had to take a break. You are worth more than a rushed dinner, Ember. It’s frustrating the hell out of me.”

  “Nate, you don’t have to prove anything to me.” My belly flops, and I shift to lean up a little more, giving him a brush of my hand against his hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I understand and don’t hold it against you that you’re needed at the club.”

  “That might be the case, Ember, but you deserve better.”

  “I deserve you,” I whisper.

  His eyes fire, the reaction to my words so strong that I can feel his heart pick up speed under my hand.

  “Yeah? And it’s my job to make sure you never forget that, baby.”

  I shake my head, knowing that I’m not going to get him to realize that I don’t care if all we’ve had time for the last six days is a few hours here and there that he’s made to come to my house. Before I can speak, though, his head comes up and he flips us while taking my mouth in a deep, slow, kiss.

  Then he makes me come for the fifth time.

  TUESDAY

  I hear my doorbell just as I had finished signing my name to the bottom right corner of A Beautiful War. Bam starts barking at the chime, and I drop my brush to go answer it.

  After Nate left last night, I haven’t left my studio. The sun set and rose while I worked feverishly to finish. I feel like I’m about to drop, the exhaustion so strong, but every bit of my sluggishness is worth it after the signature I just penned on the canvas.

  “Flowers for an Emberlyn Locke,” the gruff voice greets when I open the door. “Here,” he continues and thrusts a clipboard at me, just giving me enough time to take it before turning and walking toward his truck.

  “Oh, okay,” I mumble and sign my name next to the huge X he had scribbled.

  “Here. There’s more,” he huffs and thrusts a huge vase of roses into my hands.

  “More?”

  “Yeah, lady. More. As in eight more.”

  I look at the roses in my hand, judging there to be about two dozen bright red buds before snapping my head back up. “Are you sure?”

  “Been doing this for twenty years. I don’t get my orders wrong. Nine vases, twenty-four roses in each, to an Emberlyn Locke at this address. The only way I’m wrong is if you’re not really Emberlyn Locke.”

  “I am, but this is a lot.”

  He gives me a weird look, holding out the second vase impatiently. “I’m just doing my job.”

  I struggle to hold both, so while he stomps back to his van, I turn to place them down on the table next to my door. I wisely stop questioning him and hope there’s, at least, a note on one of these.

  His surly demeanor doesn’t slip until the last vase is in my hands. Then I get a smile from him before he turns to leave. “See you tomorrow,” he oddly says over his shoulder before slamming his door.

  Tomorrow?

  WEDNESDAY

  Sal, my new florist best friend, showed up just as I was returning from dropping my last painting off at the gallery. When his van had pulled in, I had been juggling my keys and the bag of fast food I had grabbed on my way home after I realized it was past noon and I hadn’t eaten yet. Since he had to wait for me to put that down before I could sign and take the next enormous floral display, I had asked and gotten a very impatient ‘Sal, as in Sal’s Flower’s’ before he pointed with a weathered finger toward his van.

  I just shrugged and took the flowers.

  Since his order yesterday, I was quickly running out of space. I figured it was wiser to just place them on the floor until Sal left, then find somewhere for them.

  When he handed me the last one, number nine, I got the same grumpy wave as he trudged to his van. “See you tomorrow.”

  Uh? He can’t be serious.

  I look down at my feet, seeing just the top of each rose. A sea of red that only two hundred and sixteen roses can make. The scent of roses has already overtaken my house, but all I can do is smile.

  I don’t look for the card right away, knowing it’s here, but walk around my house trying to find a ho
me for each vase. With the last one in hand—and no other option—I place the last four in the middle of my kitchen table before plucking the card I see off one of them.

  His handwriting is rough and slanted, just as it was on yesterday’s card. Of course, the one yesterday had just said, ‘Yours, Nate.’ Today’s corny line makes me smile when the first made me melt. I drop the card on the table before pulling my phone from the back pocket of my shorts.

  “Hey,” he hums in my ear as the sound of shuffling papers comes over the line.

  “You know, pretty soon I’m going to be sleeping on roses.”

  He laughs.

  “Thank you, honey.”

  “You sound happy,” he muses softly.

  “And you sound tired. Do you need anything?”

  He’s quiet for a second, more paperwork shifting around. “Just you, Em. I’ll be over later, but don’t wait up.”

  “It’s wine night with Nikki, so there’s a good chance I’ll still be up when you leave Dirty.”

  “I hope so. I miss my girl.”

  I laugh. “It’s been two days, Nate.”

  “Two long-as-fuck days.”

  I don’t respond because he’s right. Instead, I change the subject.

  “My mom asked if I would be at family dinner tonight. I told her no, but … uh,” I trail off, not sure how to word what I really want to ask. Something I’ve been wondering, but not willing to ask and add to his stress.

  “I got the same call from my mom. Not a surprise, but her question was actually whether we would be at family dinner.”

  “Uh …”

  He chuckles deeply. “Em, what did you think was going to happen? You’re not just some new girlfriend she’s gotten wind of.”

  “Girlfriend,” I echo on a squeak.

  His hilarity grows, but I sense it’s more sarcastic at this point. “Yeah, Ember. Figured that was clear.”

  “You just hadn’t said and I … well, I didn’t want to assume any titles had been placed.”

  “Yeah, I have, and now, I’m working on showing. Titles were placed the second you came on my cock, Ember. See you later, baby.”

  His disconnect is instant, and I pull the phone away wondering if I just screwed up by being all nervous and unsure.

  My next call was to Nikki.

  “So let me get this straight … he sent you almost five hundred roses this week?”

  I take a sip of my third glass of wine and look over at Nikki. She’s about to fall off the couch as she leans forward with wide, excited eyes.

  “Actually, it was four hundred and thirty-two. Not that I counted or anything.”

  “Holy shit.” She gasps.

  “I know. What does that even mean?”

  “That’s so romantic!” she screams, ignoring me.

  I thought Nikki would be able to help me figure out what my mind couldn’t, her experience with men being a lot more than the few short-term boyfriends I’ve had since high school, but I didn’t think she would turn into a squealing and screaming freak fest.

  “Yeah, but what does it mean?!”

  She stops bouncing and narrows her eyes. “What does it mean? Oh my God, Em! If that isn’t the grandest of gestures to show someone you love them, I don’t know what is!”

  “Love?”

  Her expression gets a little crazy at that. Her eyes turn into angry little slits, as her head tilts to the side, and I can picture the wheels churning in her head. “Are you blind! Hell, I shouldn’t be shocked you’re confused when just last week I had to remind you of what the chemistry between the two of you would be like. Something, I might add, I was right about if the sounds that woke me up that night are anything to go by. Stop questioning his actions and just see them for what they are. He’s trying to make up for the past by showing you how he feels first. My guess is that he’s now the one worried about saying he loves you.”

  “Nikki, we haven’t even been together for a month.”

  “And you’ve loved him for years. He made it very clear that he has had feelings for you just as long. Stop overthinking it and just enjoy the ride. You guys are being forced to date a little unconventionally with him being the uber-busy owner of the brand new most popular club around and all. If this were a normal beginning to a relationship, you guys would have been on a bunch of dates and you would be able to see how right I am.”

  I let her words sink in, and I have to admit she’s right. It’s been almost three weeks and had he not been so busy, my reservations wouldn’t be warranted.

  “Maybe he’s waiting for me to say it?”

  “So say it.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” I laugh.

  “What are you really all worked up about because I know it isn’t the fact that he’s sent you a ridiculous amount of roses.”

  “God, Nik. When he mentioned his mom asking about both of us, I freaked. I mean I know it’s going to happen with us what we are now, but he had made it such a big deal when he rejected me. He said they wouldn’t understand. How is it any different now?”

  “Yeah, well, when he said it, he was probably right. A lot has changed in three years. You’re not just a teenager fresh out of high school. You’ve been to art school, finishing well ahead of time. You have one hell of a career as an established artist now. You’re an adult and even if your parents or even his thought something of you two being together, they have no say in it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll have a say in it.” I can picture my dad having a lot to say about it, actually. “I guess I’m really worried that he’s going to cut and run when it comes down to standing up together in front of them.”

  She gives me a soft look of compassion. “I think you’re underestimating him. The only thing I can tell you is to ride it out and let him do what he said he was going to do. Prove that he’s worth giving your heart to.”

  We continue to talk about a whole lot of nothing after that, and by the time I felt him climb into my bed and pull me into his arms, my head was a lot clearer. I’m still a little nervous about what’s to come, but seeing things through her eyes makes me look at them from another perspective.

  One where he really might be the one afraid of getting hurt this time.

  SATURDAY

  By the time I realized that my daily deliveries weren’t going to stop anytime soon, I started looking up places where I could share the happiness Nate was literally raining upon me. Sal showed up, surly as ever, and instead of taking today’s nine vases inside, I had him help me load them in my car. It was a tight fit with all twenty-seven vases total that I had received since Wednesday, but we made it work. I think he actually cracked a smile when I told him I had planned to drop them off at the local nursing homes, but it was short-lived and he left with another promise to see me tomorrow. I didn’t mention anything about it being Sunday and I would most likely not see him.

  At this point, I wasn’t sure when they would stop, but Nate was determined to make a point and I was loving every second of it. Which is why I decided to pass them out at nursing homes. Seeing the look on some of the elderly patients was the best feeling in the world, but hearing that I was the only one who had visited the vast majority of them in years solidified my decision to share Nate’s love. Of course, I planned to talk to him tonight when he came over for dinner now that I had given the majority of them away. I probably would have kept each one, but after almost breaking my neck on one of them earlier, I realized that I couldn’t keep the overwhelming amount I had.

  I hear his truck pull into my driveway right when I pulled dinner out of the oven, and I felt giddy with happiness that he was here. I continue getting dinner ready as I dish out the lasagna onto our plates and the sounds of him greeting Bam reach my ears.

  Just when I had put them down on the table, I feel him.

  His arms go around my middle and his mouth presses against my exposed neck, making me shiver. I straighten and wrap my arms over his as he continues to kiss up my neck until he has
his lips at my ear. “You smell good enough to eat.”

  “I think that’s dinner,” I joke.

  “No, definitely not dinner,” he rumbles and presses his erection against my back. “I love food, but food doesn’t make me hard.”

  “You’re a man. Food is like number one on the makes you hard list.”

  “Not true,” he groans when I push against him. “You’re number one through fifty on that list.”

  “And what’s fifty-one?”

  “Probably porn, but I haven’t tested that since I haven’t watched a single one in weeks.”

  I throw my head back against his shoulder and laugh.

  “Damn, it’s good to have you in my arms.”

  Still laughing, I turn to look up into his eyes with a smile. “You’ve been in my bed every night. Me in your arms. You’re good for my ego when you act like you haven’t seen me in years.”

  His lips are smiling as he gives me a brief kiss—one that had dinner not been ready, I’m sure we would have gotten lost in—before resting his forehead against mine.

  “Hi,” he whispers.

  “Hi.” I sigh.

  “Thanks for making me lasagna. I’ve been craving that for days.”

  I shrug as if it’s no big deal. The last thing I’m going to admit is that I hate cooking the dish and only did it for him. Hell, no. Not when he’s looking at me like I’m the answer to his prayers.

  “Come on; let me let you feed your man before I forget about dinner and demand dessert first.”

  He has to turn and literally push me into my seat after that comment because the thought alone is enough to make me want to forget all about dinner myself.

  “Are you ready for your show next weekend?” he asks a little while later, after he’s devoured his third huge plate of lasagna.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I’m nervous, but Annabelle seems confident that I shouldn’t be.”

  “It’s normal to be nervous, Em. This is your first solo show? Right?”

  I finish swallowing my bite before wiping my mouth. “Kind of. I had one when I had just finished school, but it wasn’t this big. Things kind of got a little crazy when Annabelle discovered me. She’s featured my paintings for the last two years, and they sell within an hour of going on display, so I know I shouldn’t be worried, but it’s a lot different when you’re the only artist on display. More pressure somehow, I guess.”