Five, four, three, two …
My phone rang again and I accepted the call.
“And A? Be careful.”
Her protectiveness warmed me like a blanket. “Thanks. But I’m pretty sure a giant brick house in East Hampton is as safe as anywhere in New York.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. I will.”
20
Ava
I met Nate in the living room after hanging up with Lex, and we played moveable crutch to get up the stairs. As I followed him down the hall, I was still thinking about what Lex had said. Including her warning.
“That’s my parents’ room,” Nate said quietly, gesturing further down the dimly lit corridor. “Mine’s here.”
“Your parents expect me to sleep with you?” My heart started up in my chest.
“Of course not.” He looked at me strangely. “That’s your room. Across the hall.”
I glanced at the door, then realized something. “Oh, God. I don’t have clothes. Or a toothbrush.” Or deodorant, or a razor …
I was nearly hyperventilating.
“Relax. We have guests all the time. Check your room.”
The closet revealed beach dresses, skirts, and tanks, enough to last a week at least. The chest of drawers gave up even more goodies. Bikinis to die for. Pajamas in a couple of sizes. No underwear, not surprisingly. If I wasn’t in a bathing suit I might have to go commando or buy some in town.
I found a tank and shorts that fit and put them on. Drawer number three was the winner: disposable razors, deodorant, toothbrushes, shampoo, and more.
Hallelujah.
Because nothing kills spending a weekend in the Hamptons as your neighbor’s fake girlfriend like bikini fuzz.
I walked back across the hall with my finds cradled in my arms.
“Get what you need?” Nate looked up as I entered.
“I feel like I’m going to get arrested for shoplifting.”
His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “I’ve got your back.” That’s when I realized he’d tugged pajama pants on.
Just pajama pants.
His toned arms and abs were on full display. It was good he didn’t ask me anything else, because the visual stimulation of a shirtless Nate Townsend crowded out any other senses. I was suddenly aware of my body as much as his.
“I just need to … brush my teeth,” I managed. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“There’s a guest one down the hall. But you can use mine.” He nodded to the adjoining washroom I hadn’t noticed in my ogling.
“OK.” I took a step sideways as coolly as I could. I managed to stub my toe on the bed frame. “Dammit!”
He chuckled low in his throat. “We can share a bathroom for two minutes.”
Easy for you to say, stupid shirtless lie boyfriend.
I reluctantly set my prizes, except for the toothbrush, on the dresser. Nate followed me across the floor, reaching over my shoulder to flick on the light.
The bathroom was decorated in soothing tones of green. It felt like a forest, which helped take the edge off. I unwrapped the toothbrush, and Nate extended his hand wordlessly. I passed it to him, and he put toothpaste on it before giving it back to me. The giant mirror reflected both of us. It was weirdly domestic, me standing in front of him, barely reaching his shoulders. Our eyes connected in the glass.
“Enksfrkng,” he said solemnly through a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Huh?” I spat and rinsed my mouth out. He did the same.
“I said thank you. For staying.”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for reformed momma’s boys that limp.” I turned to face him. “Besides, you didn’t give me much choice, honey.”
He half-smiled. “You always have a choice, darling. And if you don’t find one, you’ll make one.”
Nate said it like he knew me. Like we knew each other. It warmed me.
Until I remembered Lex’s words.
“Ready for bed?” I asked without thinking. Now my eyes were back on his chest, and lower, and … shit. “I mean, for me to go to my bed. And you’ll be in your bed. Which is here …”
By some miracle Nate hadn’t noticed the awkwardfest. He’d dropped his head to his chest.
“Nate? What is it?” Alarm bells went off in my mind.
He let out a long breath. “It’s weird. I’m tired but … For months after Jamie, I couldn’t sleep. Like I was exhausted but couldn’t switch off. As if the moment I fell asleep, something awful would happen.”
My instinct to pry warred with something else. I pried gently. “How’s your dad, Nate? Really?”
Nate raised his head enough to look at me. “The first thing he asks me is about work. He’s sitting in the chair, wires and bandages on his arms, and he asks me that.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up. “I get that it’s important to him. It is to me too. But he’s fifty-five years old and he almost died. He acts like he’s invincible.”
Nate was tired and hurting. I couldn’t imagine how protective he’d be of his family given all that’d happened to him. Then getting today’s news and worrying more. I wanted to make it better if I could, or to show him I was there if I couldn’t.
We’d come a long way from last year. One night, reckless, out of our control. Now I knew he was more—more complicated, more fascinating, more everything—than I’d imagined.
I hopped up on the vanity to be on his level. Nate studied me for the longest moment, his chest rising and falling with his breath, before placing his palms on either side of my legs. Then he leaned in, gave in, his eyes closing and his forehead resting gently on my chest. A heart-wrenching sound between an exhale and a groan escaped.
The corner of my eyes burned from seeing him like this, and I had to blink back the emotion that welled up. I was willing to bet that listening to Nate think would be like pressing your ear to a conch shell. The roar of the ocean on the inside, at odds with the beauty and order on the outside.
My hands ran across his shoulders and down his arms, soothing. Nate raised his eyes to mine.
This Nate was the opposite of the one I’d seen in the conference room. The one I knew would be dominant in court. The one he constructed so painstakingly to put forward to the world.
“Ava, I want to ask you something. Don’t read too much into it.” His voice was almost inaudible. “The night we met. Why did you stay, talk with me like you knew me?”
I pretended to think about it, as if I hadn’t asked myself the same thing a thousand times. “You needed someone.”
“It’s really that simple with you. Someone needs you and you help them.”
“It is with you.”
“No,” he said like he’d proven a point. “No, I’d like to believe there was something about me. But it wasn’t, it was you. You always do the right thing.”
The corner of my mouth twitched. “Hey pot, I’m kettle.” He looked confused so I went on. “Nate, you carry the world on your shoulders. The expectations. Everyone respects you, from the biggest lawyers to Lindy. You’re the closest thing I’ve met to a real-life Superman, but even you can’t make everyone happy all the time.” One of my hands strayed to his hair, feathering the dark strands that brushed the back of his neck.
His eyes were a fathomless blue. He lifted one hand from where it was braced on the counter and brought it to my face. Stroked a thumb down my jaw.
It felt like I was playing with a wounded animal. Any moment he’d realize the scars were too deep, that he didn’t trust me enough to let me close. He’d lash out. I’d hurt.
But I couldn’t stop wanting to be close to him. I needed to be here. No matter where the law, or Nate’s mom, or even Lex thought I should be.
“You know,” I added, “when I met you in that club I thought you were smooth, in control, untouchably cool.”
“I’m none of those,” he murmured.
“No.” I took his face in my hands and lifted it. “You’re better. A million time
s better. You’re not weak, Nate. You’re human.”
“Is that what this is?” He grimaced. “In that case, I hate feeling human.”
The rawness in his voice scraped at my heart. His hand tightened on the vanity, the muscles in his arm flexing.
“The things you’ve been through, your family has been through … everyone needs help.”
His hands lifted from the vanity, his touch skimming lightly from my shoulders to my arms. Then his fingers tightened around my biceps, not enough to hurt, but so I could feel his frustration.
“You’re so good to me. I’ve never done anything to deserve it.”
I resisted the instinct to flinch. Because he was trying to send me running. To scare me away.
“Everyone needs to trust someone, Nate. To let someone in.”
He studied me for a moment, looking for answers in my face. We were inches apart. I could smell the mint from his toothpaste. The barriers between us weren’t skin or bone or muscle. Just fears we weren’t ready to relinquish.
“Sometimes I want to let you in,” he whispered hoarsely.
Nate’s quiet confession flooded me with feelings I couldn’t push down, couldn’t contain.
My hand reached for his hair and pulled his mouth down to mine.
I kissed him without hesitation. Because I couldn’t do anything in that second that wasn’t kissing him.
Nate sucked in a breath, as shocked as I was by my actions. Then, like it was as inevitable for him as it was for me, he slowly pressed into me.
He balanced on one foot as one hand held my mouth to his, the other tugging my hips toward the front of the counter so our centers connected. My hands smoothed down the skin of his back, stroking long lines of muscle and bone.
I kissed him with comfort, with compassion, with longing. And Nate poured himself into me.
This Nate, the one without the suit, without the answers, wasn’t just attractive. He was irresistible.
The house was silent around us. I slid off the counter to press closer, needing to feel all of him. Nate made a noise low in his throat and started backing into the darkness of the bedroom. He held onto me for balance.
His mouth moved over mine slowly but with intensity, like every touch of his tongue, slant of his lips, meant something. Not friendship. Not sex. Not love. Something more human.
Nate pivoted me around and the backs of my knees hit the bed. His body followed me down. We managed to make it in one piece, him on top.
Once he didn’t have to stand, any disadvantage was gone.
His mouth moved to my jaw. Lips on the shell of my ear, teeth scraping down my neck. I ran my hands feverishly over his back. He grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head, pinning them there while his lips and tongue dropped lower to move over my collarbone.
He pulled back when I moaned, blinking like he was disoriented.
“Ava …” His voice was a warning to both of us. That he was losing control. “I don’t want you to regret this.”
My fingers drifted up to stroke the side of his face.
“Nate,” I murmured, my throat aching. “Why do you think I need you any less than you need me?”
Even though it was Nate’s angst today, it still felt like I’d been put through the wringer. I didn’t care what was happening in the world. We could close the door on his family, my business, ourselves, and it could be me and him tonight. And we could have tonight forever.
My hips flexed to meet his, and I could feel him hard against my thigh. He groaned, releasing my hands to reach under my tank and squeeze my breasts. Impatient, he tugged my tank over my head.
This felt wrong. At the same time, it was exactly what we needed. Because something had changed between last year and this year. He wasn’t dominant, wasn’t conquering me and demanding my response. Yet in some ways I felt more helpless beneath him this time.
I trusted him.
And he trusted me. To be with him in a way he wouldn’t let anyone.
Moments later my shorts were gone and his pants too. I needed him buried in me. Nothing else would ease the desperate ache.
“Shit. I don’t have—” His voice broke into the darkness.
“I’m on the pill.” I kissed him again. “Have you—?”
He shook his head. “I’m clean.”
His fingers stroked me and I writhed for him.
“Nate.”
“Don’t. Don’t say my name.” His voice was tight. “I don’t want to be me right now.”
The words broke my heart. “That’s too bad,” I murmured. “Because I don’t want anyone else, Nate. I want you.”
I used his name so he couldn’t forget who he was. Who we were.
He groaned and nudged my legs farther apart with his thighs.
“Nate.”
Then pressed into me inch by inch …
“Nate …” His name dissolved into a whimper I fought to hold in.
My body clamped around him. My fingernails dug into his shoulders. Not because I was aggressive, or desperate, or needy. Because I was overcome.
And he knew.
His lips pressed to the spot where my neck joined my shoulder. I felt the tension in his muscles everywhere.
I’d never imagined anything so simple being so intense.
I didn’t think it was possible for him to move, we were so closely joined. But he did. Pulling nearly all the way out, his eyes inches from mine. Then pressing back in. My body was tight but Nate persisted, pushing until I was completely full. He was everywhere. In me, around me.
The intensity of what we were doing was written all over his face. Nate was as consumed as I was.
I couldn’t move except to breathe in his ocean smell. Was blinded to feeling everything but the smoothness of his skin.
Then slow was a memory.
Nate drove into me. Heavy strokes, the drag between our bodies adding to the riptide of feeling, grating across my nerve endings, leaving them sensitive and bare. What built in me was terrifyingly big, not just requesting a response but commanding one. It dragged every part of me along with it.
I touched his arms, the muscles flexing as he held himself over me. I whispered his name again and he raised his head. His gaze undid me.
“Stay with me,” I asked him.
Nate nodded tightly, dropping his mouth to mine once before pulling back to watch me through hooded eyes.
He was close. I could tell by the rough noises coming from his throat. The tension in his body. And so was I.
I tried to hold on, dazed by the ferocity in Nate’s expression. But I went blind. Every muscle and bone in my body crushed in on itself. Then he followed me over, his agonized groan in my ear my only comfort in the darkness.
The dull ache between my legs woke me.
Last night was burned into my brain like a brand. The way we’d buried ourselves in each other. Then I’d fallen asleep in his arms.
I opened my eyes to find Nate was gone.
Déjà vu.
It was ridiculous to compare this to last year when he’d left. Now I was in his house. With his parents. I sat up and pushed the covers down, and my fingers grazed something rough and unfamiliar.
A note was taped to the duvet cover.
Last night was everything.
PS – I’m downstairs.
PPS – I swear.
-Nate
Another was on the dresser, another on the door. It was the same note copied out three times. He didn’t want me to think he’d left.
I fell back on the pillow.
What we’d done should’ve been simple. I got it on the surface. Pain brought people together, made you do crazy things. But alone I could admit it: what Nate and I had done last night was more than just comfort.
Shaking myself out of the haze, I pulled on a bathing suit with a skirt and top and walked down the stairs. The smell of coffee was joined by voices. Nate, his mother, and a man who must’ve been Nate’s father sat around the living room. Conversati
on ground to a halt as I walked in.
Nate’s gaze locked on mine for a few seconds before he spoke. “Dad, this is Ava.”
Nate’s father started to stand, but I held up a hand awkwardly.
“Please, don’t get up, Mr. Townsend.”
Alistair Townsend nodded once, setting down the New York Times in his hands to run cool blue eyes over me. Despite the fact that Mr. Townsend was pale and sitting in a chair, he was formidable. After a long moment his face finally softened.
“You brought my son home.”
It wasn’t clear whether that was a question or a thank you.
“I hope you’re feeling better.”
“I’m feeling fine. You know doctors, always overprotective. Ridiculous since they don’t make any money off you when you’re healthy.”
“Maybe you’re a walking advertisement for their good services.” I smiled.
He tilted his head, assessing. “That’s true, Ava. I like that.” He smiled, showing perfect rows of teeth. “Tell me. How did you meet Nathan?”
Nate and I had gotten our story straight last night. I’d reinforced how much I hated lying, so we’d agreed to steer as close to the truth as possible.
“I was visiting New York for work last winter. My best friend and I just moved here a couple of months ago. We’re in the fashion industry,” I said vaguely.
Fortunately Alistair didn’t grill me over breakfast like his wife had the day before. We managed to have a friendly conversation, spearheaded mainly by Alistair. Mr. Townsend was such a natural—or so practiced—in his social skills, I bet he could conduct an orchestra in his sleep.
It surprised me to learn that Nate’s father was actually charming. I’d been picturing someone … menacing.
“We’re having company for dinner tonight,” Celeste added when we rose to leave. “Please be ready at seven.”
It was only now I realized she’d hardly said five words all of breakfast. Alistair was such an overwhelming presence that even his wife’s aura faded into the background next to his.
Nate and I left the room together to head upstairs. He was managing better on the crutches, and I let him go first.
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 228