by LK Farlow
In an act of lust-fueled boldness, I palm him through his pants, and he groans. “Fuck, Jenny. Fuck. Let me make you feel good,” he begs against my skin.
I nod, helpless to resist him.
Nate shifts me from the lip of the sink back to standing. My heart stutters in my chest when he drops to his knees in front of me. My eyes glaze over with soul consuming desire when he unties the drawstring to my pants. He slips his thumbs beneath my waistband and starts to pull them down.
“Wait!” I say breathlessly.
“Are you okay?” he asks, with such genuine concern in his voice that it gives me pause.
“I just need to move my pump.” I mutter the words in a low tone, my embarrassment warring with my arousal. Thanks to old doubts and lingering insecurities, I’m fully expecting him to pull away—to stand up and leave without a single glance back.
But he doesn’t.
“Where is it?” he asks, slowly brushing his thumbs over my hipbones.
“Clipped to the inside of my waistband toward the back left.”
With a steady hand, Nate reaches around and unclips my insulin pump and hands it to me. I release a shaky exhale and clip it to my bra, whispering out a soft thank you.
With that issue out of the way, Nate resumes sliding my pants down, bringing my panties with them. He presses a kiss to each hip, sucking slightly on my right hipbone. Jesus, who knew hips were an erogenous zone?
As he moves lower, I thread my fingers through his hair. When his mouth reaches its final destination, he licks and sucks and nibbles like his life depends on my pleasure. He reaches up and hoists my right leg over his shoulder, giving himself more access to me. I’m a bucking, trembling mess on the verge of climaxing. When he adds his skilled fingers to the mix, it’s game over, and I damn near black out from the blinding pleasure.
“Jesus, Nate,” I sigh. “That was...”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
He stands and the awkwardness sets in—for me at least. Where we are and what we did hits me like a tidal wave. What was I thinking? I yank my bottoms back up and spin to face the mirror, bracing my palms against the sink. Honestly, I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping me standing at this point. Between my still-quivering legs, my racing heart, and the worry wrapping itself around me like a vise, I’m feeling a little unsteady on my feet.
What if someone heard us? Has anyone noticed we’re both missing? How on earth did we go from him avoiding me to him going down on me in the hall bath of his childhood home? What does this mean for us? I thought we were a one-time thing…that the great Nate Reynolds never went back for seconds? Or does this not count since we didn’t actually do the deed?
My thoughts are spiraling so quickly that the thought of repaying the favor never even occurs to me. I’m far too busy panicking over the thought of our misdeeds being painted all over our faces all throughout dinner. Dinner with his parents. And Natalie. And Tatum. Maybe I should just fake sick and head home?
Nate wraps his arms around me from behind, speaking low in my ear. “GG, breathe.” His tone tells me he’s been trying to get through to me for a hot minute.
“It’s…I’m fine. Sorry.”
He scrubs a hand over his scruffy face. “You have nothing to apologize for. Me on the other hand…” He trails off, worry and regret blanketing his features. “We didn’t get to finish talking at the party. I acted like an ass—a jealous ass and I’m sorry. Truly.”
I offer him a weak smile. “No worries.” I shrug.
“Jenny, I—”
“Seriously, it’s all good. Like you said, you’re not the guy for me, and that’s fine. We’re just friends who’ve fucked, right?”
He rears back at my crassness. I’m aware that I’m acting out of character, but this whole thing with him is too much. He’s too much. I could so easily get swept up in him, and Lord knows he’s told me time and time again that he’d only hurt me.
“Right,” he agrees, but the way he says it coupled with his rigid posture tells me he isn’t actually agreeing with me—he’s placating me. But I’m too chicken-shit to ask him what he actually thinks.
“So, yeah, thanks…for that.” I turn and slip out of the bathroom before either of us can say anything else.
In the hallway, I quickly remove my pump from my bra and calculate my insulin bolus before reclipping it to my pants. I round the corner into the kitchen, almost slamming right into Natalie as she rounds it from the opposite direction. “Gah!” she exclaims, her hand flying to her chest. “You scared the ba-jeezus out of me.”
I duck my head in guilt and maybe a little bit in shame. “Sorry.”
“Have you seen Nate?”
I will myself not to blush. “N-nope. Haven’t seen him.”
Her gaze sharpens as she studies me. “Uh-huh. Well, it’s time to eat.”
“Great!” I say, sounding way too chipper.
She gives me one last quizzical look before linking arms with me. “Nate can find his own way to the table. C’mon.”
The Reynolds are the kind of family that waits for everyone to be seated before eating. They say grace before every family meal, and usually that’s fine and dandy. But it’s been ten minutes since I emerged from the bathroom, and there’s still no sign of Nate.
At this point, I don’t know if he’s still in the bathroom, willing his hard-on away, or I pissed him off and he left. I’m also unsure which option makes me feel worse. To say I could have handled the aftermath of him going down on me a little better is an understatement.
Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds make small talk, trying to distract Tatum from the fact that there’s food on the table but not on her plate while Natalie texts furiously, her fingers flying across the screen. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s messaging her brother.
Finally, after another five minutes, he joins us at the table. “Uncle Nate! Where was you? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!”
Nate’s lips tip up at his niece’s cuteness. “Sorry, Tater Tot, there was something I had to take care of.”
I can feel the tips of my ears burn. Surely, he doesn’t mean he rubbed one out in his parents’ hall bath…right? My eyes flit to him, and he winks. Oh, God, that’s exactly what he means.
“Something so important it was worth letting the food get cold?” Luke, Nate and Natalie’s dad, grumbles, his brows crinkled in annoyance.
“You could say that. I’m here now though, so let’s dig in.”
Nate moves to grab a roll, and his mom smacks it out of his hand. “We need to say grace first, Nathaniel. In fact, why don’t you lead us?”
“Gladly.” He bows his head but keeps his eyes on me. “As we gather for this meal, I want to give thanks for you providing us with another day and for this time together. I especially want to thank you for the lovely Jenny being able to come tonight; she’s a beautiful addition to this evening. Please bless everything we’ll eat or have eaten tonight to the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.”
He smirks at me as he raises his head, daring me to say something—anything. He’s freaking baiting me, right here in front of everyone. That asshole. Well, the joke’s on him, because in addition to being smart enough to not engage with him, I’m the one who got off while he was left hard…and hard up.
“That was lovely,” Melanie compliments, completely oblivious to the tension between her son and me.
Dishes are passed around and plates are made, and even cold, the food is incredible. I listen as Tatum rambles on about how excited she is to start ‘big school’ in the fall. Poor kid, she has some misconceptions about how kindergarten works, but I think all kids do. I know I did. I legit thought that my dad got to come with me and that he’d eat lunch with me and everything. Talk about a letdown. It’s something my parents still tease me about to this day.
Toward the end of the meal, some of the tension I was holding onto finally starts to ease. Aside from his innuendo-laden prayer, Nate has been on his bes
t behavior. I should’ve known he had more up his sleeve, but hindsight’s twenty-twenty, right?
It isn’t until he pushes his plate away with food left on it that he strikes again.
“Are you not hungry?” his mom asks worriedly.
He smiles softly at her before dragging his eyes over my way. He shakes his head a little and smirks. “The food was amazing, Mom.” He pushes his chair back from the table and pats his stomach. “I’m just stuffed full.”
“I don’t see how. The only thing you finished is your steak and these potatoes are your favorite.”
“I’ll take some home and bring it for lunch tomorrow. I know I shouldn’t have, but my appetite got the best of me and I had a little snack before dinner.” He licks his lips and my thighs clench, remembering the way he licked me. I shake my head at him, signaling for him to knock it off, but he just nods, his eyes glinting, full of unspoken promises.
My cheeks have to be as red as a fire truck right now. I swear, I’m going to kill him.
“Well,” his mom hedges. “Okay. I’ll send some for Duke as well.”
“He’ll love that, Mom.”
“Did you like the salad?” Tatum asks her uncle.
“I sure did.”
Tatum does the four-year-old equivalent of a hair fluff. “Thanks. I helped Nana make it.”
Nate smiles at her with such warmth and affection that my heart thaws toward him a little. “Aha. Must be why his tastes extra, extra good.”
Tatum beams under his praise. “Better than your snack?”
Nate and I both choke at her question. My Lord, from the mouths of babes.
Nate shoots me another loaded look. “I’m not sure anything could be quite as…tasty as my snack.”
Tatum pouts. “What was it? Can I have some?”
Nate rolls his lips inward, trying with all of his might to contain his laughter. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here wishing for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
He goes to answer her, but I can’t take anymore of this conversation and cut him off. “Thank you so much for inviting me tonight, Melanie. Everything was wonderful.”
Melanie smiles, but Nate speaks before she can. “What was your favorite part?”
I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him. In cold freaking blood. Hell, I bet if I explained the circumstances, they’d let me off with an insanity plea, because this man is driving me crazy.
His dad steps in to rescue me. “Son, leave the girl alone.” Thankfully, Nate listens.
Aside from a few charged and lingering looks between Nate and me, the remainder of dinner is uneventful. I offer to help Melanie with the dishes, but she adamantly refuses, on the grounds of me being a guest in her home. Nate and Natalie, however, aren’t so lucky and are sent to the kitchen to clean up.
Not wanting to outstay my welcome, I use this time to say my goodbyes. First up, the Mr. and Mrs. of the house. “Thank you so much for inviting me over for dinner. It was delicious.”
“Would’ve been better hot,” Luke grumbles as he saunters down the hall away from us.
Melanie rolls her eyes at her husband’s gruffness. “I’m glad you were able to join us.” She reaches out and pats my shoulder. “Maybe we can do it again soon.”
My mind flashes to Nate and I doing it again, and I have to stifle a groan. “Uh, sure, that’d be great.”
She beams as though I just told her she’s won a million dollars.
I step into the kitchen to say goodbye to everyone in there. I hug Tatum, spinning her in a circle as I do. Next up is Natalie—leaning in to wrap her arms around me, she tells me to call her tomorrow and I easily agree.
“See ya,” I say to Nate as I turn to head toward the front door.
“What…no hug for me?” he asks, challenging me.
“Yeah, Ms. Jenny, you hugged everyone else. You don’t want Uncle Nate to feel left out—Mama says it’s not nice to…ex-ca-lude our friends.”
I’m torn between wanting to smile at her sweet innocence and high tail it out the door to avoid hugging him.
Nate dries his hands on a dish towel and tosses it down onto the counter. He smirks, crooking his finger at me, beckoning me closer.
With a resigned sigh, I step into his embrace. I’d like to say his touch has magically lost its effect on me, but that’d be a bald-faced lie. The fact that I can’t seem to conceal my reaction—goose bumps, shallow breathing, racing heart—to his touch is really just icing on the freaking cake.
He leans down, burying his face in the space between my neck and ear, his hot breath skating over my exposed skin. “I’m so glad I got to eat you tonight, GG.”
I yank out of his hold. “What?”
“I said I’m glad I got to eat with you tonight.” He winks, like the cocky little asshole he is.
“I’m sure the pleasure was all yours,” I say in an act of boldness fueled by embarrassment.
I pivot on my heel, ready to make a quick escape, but my best friend stops me. “Uh, forget tomorrow morning. Call me tonight.”
chapter thirteen
Nate
I never thought I’d see the day where I appreciated my mother trying to set me up. It’s happened a few times over the years, but none of her attempts have ever panned out. Most likely because she’s always trying to match me with one of the lady’s daughters from her book club—mind you, they don’t actually ever read the books. In my mother’s words who has time for that when Nancy Jernigan’s daughter relapsed on drugs and Janet Kerr’s daughter is pregnant with her third kid from a third father? It’s probably obvious why the setups haven’t panned out, yeah?
But her inviting Jenny to dinner—yeah, she hit the nail on the head with that shit. Definitely the one time I didn’t mind her meddling, that’s for sure. Her presence was enough to get me going. After the way we left shit at Tatum’s party, and the way I let my completely unfounded jealousy get the better of me, left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Hell, I even thought about asking Alden or Natalie for her number, but I figured Jenny wouldn’t appreciate that. Not to mention, the endless amount of shit those two would give me for even asking.
Hindsight, I should have used our time together in the bathroom to talk, but seeing her there and knowing we were completely alone—something just came over me. I fucking had to kiss her. One thing obviously led to another, but I don’t regret it, even if she did pretty much give me the brushoff after I got her off. Hearing her breathy little moans and tasting her sweetness was one hundred and ten percent worth it—and messing with her all throughout dinner, getting to see that pretty little blush stain her cheeks, was the cherry on top.
Thoughts of Jenny kept me up most of the night. Up and hard as a rock, and let’s be real, there’s only so many cold showers a guy can take. I’m not even the least bit ashamed to say I got off a few times to the memory of her writhing against me.
Now, here I am, almost twelve hours later, still obsessing over her. And I don’t just mean that in a sexual way. Hell, as I scarfed down my usual breakfast of over easy eggs, toast, bacon, and coffee, I found myself wondering how she liked her eggs cooked—I mean, what the fuck?
My usual M.O. is love ’em and leave ’em. I don’t do repeats, ever, and they’re damn sure out of my mind by sunrise. Yet somehow, a good girl like Jenny Jones has me breaking all of my rules. Rules that exist for a reason.
On my drive over to the station, the radio plays some Top 40 country song that’s catchy as hell. As I hum along, I can’t help but wonder what kind of music Jenny likes. Does she prefer old school 90s country, like me, or is she more into ear bugs like what’s playing now? Get a grip, dude. It doesn’t matter what kind of music she likes.
At the station, Duke and I pull up at the same time, as per usual. He and I function like a well-oiled machine. “You look like shit,” he calls out in lieu of a greeting.
I sniff the air and crinkle my nose. “Rather look like it than smell like it.”
He rolls his eyes and s
houlder checks me. “Douche. C’mon, I need some coffee.”
We walk in together, hitting up the break room to stash our lunchboxes and top our thermoses off before heading down for roll call. Thirty minutes later, we’re updated on the happenings of Bay Ridge and informed of a few BOLOs.
“That’s some shit, right?” Duke asks as we make the trek to the parking lot.
“Huh? What?” I ask, still thinking of a certain green-eyed beauty.
“About Mrs. Norris?” he prompts, waiting for me to catch up.
It’s not ringing a bell. “What about her?”
“Brother, were you even listening?”
Truth: I wasn’t. Not really. Which kind of pisses me off; I’ve always been able to compartmentalize—to check my shit at the door, so to speak. In my line of work, I need to be able to give my all—mind and body—when I’m on the clock, even if Bay Ridge is about as safe as Mayberry.
“Jesus, Nate.” He holds his hand out to me, palm up. “Keys.”
“It’s my turn to drive,” I rebut, childishly.
“Nah, not today. Your head’s not on right.”
His words cause me to bristle, but I relinquish the keys without arguing. Deep down, I know he’s right. “So, what about Mrs. Norris?”
He shakes his head in clear disgust. “Some jackass was driving drunk and took out her fence and mailbox.”
Fuck. “You okay, man?” I ask, treading carefully. Duke lost the love of his life to a drunk driver, and I know shit like this really gets to him.
“Just pissed. I’m glad no one was hurt, but why fucking chance it? Why not just Uber or…” His words fall off as he slams his mask back into place. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s check the car.”
Ten minutes later, Duke cranks the ignition and radios in that we’re 10-8—or in service and ready for duty.
The first half of our morning is uneventful, and Duke uses the downtime to grill me on what has me so off my game. “Seriously, what gives? You’re normally a hardass on the job.”
“It’s just…” I shake my head, not wanting to get into this with him.
He’s not having it though. “We’re partners. We don’t keep shit from each other. How can I feel safe with you if I don’t know where your head’s at?”