by LK Farlow
My teeth tug at her bottom lip, and she opens for me, allowing our tongues to tangle together. I slide my free hand around her waist, arching her back and drawing her closer. At the sound of one of the guys yelling for us to get a room, we reluctantly break apart.
Dazedly, Jenny brings her fingers to her lips. “What was that?” she whispers lowly.
“That was me doing what I should have done a while ago.”
“I…I don’t understand. We’re friends, Nate—”
“I don’t wanna be your friend, GG.”
Her eyes widen at my bold declaration.
“I want more, so much more. I’m so greedy for you, I’ll take any little morsel you give me, but I crave all of you. I want your words, your thoughts, your laughter, I want to hold your hand and kiss you for the whole world to see. I want to give us a chance to really explore this thing between us.” I suck in a ragged breath and hoarsely add, “Please tell me you want that, too?”
When tears fill her pretty green eyes, I fear I’ve misread everything and completely fucked up. That is, until she launches herself into me, her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. “Yes. Really? Oh, God, yes!”
She peppers my face with little kisses, and I bask in it, feeling like king of the world. There’s still a smidgen of doubt niggling at the back of my mind, telling me I’m making an irreparable mistake, but right now, I’m too happy to care.
“Let me take you to dinner tonight,” I murmur into her ear. “On a date. A real date.”
I set her down, and she nods, a bright beaming smile gracing not only her lips but her entire face.
Once again, I clasp her hand in mine. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Uh, yeah. In case you haven’t heard, I’ve got myself a hot date to get ready for.”
I can’t help but grin. “Hell yeah, you do.”
chapter twenty-four
Jenny
Nate dropped me off an hour ago with the promise to return to pick me up for our date at eight o’clock. Knowing him, it’ll be more like six, but I still have ample time to get ready. I’m not really sure what prompted Nate’s change of heart, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. I may be a little worried by the abruptness of it all, but hey, stranger things have happened.
The entire drive back to my house, he held my hand. The feeling of his thumb softly caressing my skin kept my skin in a perpetual state of gooseflesh. You’d think, given our past history, that such a simple touch would pale in comparison to, say, his face between my legs, but the cliché it’s the little things applies here, too. I’ll take a million moments of small touches over one night of wanton fucking. And that’s saying a lot, because sex with him was mind-blowing.
In all of my excitement over Nate making us official, I forgot to ask him where we are going. Which makes picking out an outfit a struggle. I don’t want to wear jeans somewhere fancy or a nice dress to a dive. Grabbing my phone, I shoot him a text.
Me: Wanna tell me where we’re going tonight?
Nate: Hmm. Not really.
Me: Okay, let me try again. *Will* you tell me?
Nate: Ask nicely. ;)
Me: Oh, Nathaniel, will you kindly divulge to me the location of tonight’s dinner? I’d be ever so grateful.
Nate: Smartass. You’re lucky I like you so much.
Nate: I was thinking the Black Sheep. That cool?
Me: OMG. Yes!
The fact that Nate’s taking me to the Black Sheep has me slightly giddy. Their chef is a farm-to-table culinary genius. Alden tried poaching him when we took over Bayside, but Chef Macon Wright is as loyal as he is talented—which is to say very.
I’ve eaten there a time or two, but usually solo; sharing it with Nate has me ridiculously excited. The fact that he chose it tells me he pays attention to me and my passion for good food. It says he knows me.
Even though the food is five-star, the ambiance is low-key, which means I can dress up or down. Normally, I’d ask Jamie or Natalie for help, but tonight is special, and I want to pick my own outfit, as silly as that may be.
Flipping through the hangers on the rod in my makeshift closet, I grab a few things that I think will work. Option one: a pair of high-waisted, white shorts with black pinstripes and a black tank top. I try it on, but it’s not right.
Option two: a pair of medium washed skinny jeans with an off-the-shoulder white top with fluttery sleeves. Still not what I’m going for.
Option three: a denim mini-skirt with the white top from option two tucked into it. Oh, yes, this is definitely it. I strip back out of the outfit and rehang the rejects before hopping into the shower.
Twenty minutes later, I’m lathered, conditioned, shaved, and moisturized. My hair and makeup, however, will have to wait until the mirror unfogs. Back in my bedroom, I select my shoes and accessories—brown leather wedges along with a pair of big gold hoop earrings and a few dainty bangle-style bracelets.
After another twenty minutes, give or take, and I’m dressed, my hair is styled in soft, tousled waves, and my makeup is soft and natural looking. The only thing I’m missing is a swipe of gloss across my full lips.
As predicted, Nate lets himself into my cottage a little after six o’clock. “GG, I’m hoooome!” he hollers, channeling his inner Ricky Ricardo. I know he’s only being silly, but the thought of one day sharing a space with him and calling it home has those pesky bees flapping their wings.
“Whatever happened to eight?” I holler back from the kitchen.
The sound of his footsteps approaching has me turning to look his way. “Oh, wow,” I murmur, taking in his appearance. It never ceases to amaze me how good looking he is, especially dressed in a pair of form-fitting khakis and a red and white plaid button-down that looks like it was tailor-made for him. “You look…”
“Thanks. You do, too.” He steps closer to me, his right hand moving to grip my waist. “And I’m early tonight for the same reason I always am—because I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”
I press my lips to his cheek, inhaling the spicy scent of his cologne. “Such a sweet talker.”
“Only for you. Now, let’s go.”
The car ride is filled with mindless chatter, the kind where even though we aren’t talking about anything important, it almost means more because we’re learning the silly, small things about each other. For example, I am absolutely shaken when Nate divulges to me that he eats Kit-Kats as a whole instead of breaking it apart into bars. I mean, who does that? Barbarians, that’s who. I think he was equally distraught when I confessed to eating my string cheese in bites instead of peeling off slivers. Look at us, a match made in weird food habits heaven.
In what feels like the blink of an eye, we’re pulling into the parking lot for the Black Sheep. “You wanna check your sugar before we go in?” he asks, a soft smile on his face.
I return his smile. “Yeah, thanks.”
He reaches into the back seat and grabs my purse. I retrieve my kit and quickly run through the steps of checking my sugar—it’s a little high, but after the picnic this afternoon, I’m not surprised. I wasn’t quite as careful as I should have been.
Once I’m finished, Nate exits the car, coming around to open my door. We’re parked at the far end of the lot, which isn’t shocking, given that it’s a Saturday. They’re jam-packed. “You think the wait’s gonna be long?” I ask, looking at all of the cars between us and the building.
With a hand to the small of my back, he steers me toward the entrance. “Probably, but I made us reservations.”
I stop dead in my tracks, staring up at him. “How did you make a reservation when you told me you wouldn’t even be picking me up until eight?”
He shrugs. “I knew I’d be early.”
Grumbling good naturedly, I say, “You better be glad I knew you’d be early, too.”
Inside, Nate gives our name to the hostess, and she guides us to our table, letting us know that our server would be by shortly to take o
ur drink orders and to tell us the specials—not that I need to know them. I know exactly what I’m getting—the pork tenderloin served with a butternut squash puree, brussel sprouts, and an apple chutney. It’s what I get every time I eat here, though this time I’ll probably hold the chutney due to my blood sugar being elevated.
Within seconds, our server is tableside, menus in hand, rattling off the specials. After we thank him, he takes our drink orders and promises to return with bread in hand—another thing I’ll be skipping tonight, sadly.
When I make no move to pick up my menu, Nate smirks. “You already know what you’re getting, don’t you?”
“Yup,” I say, popping the P.
“Okay. Well, wanna order for me, too?”
His request blows me away. “Really?”
“Yeah, GG. Show me what you’ve got.”
Our server returns, and I order my meal, along with the chateaubriand—a cut of steak taken from the thickest part of the filet—served medium rare alongside asparagus and mashed potatoes with au jus.
Nate eyes me as he butters a slice of bread. “I don’t know what you just ordered me, but you sounded sexy as hell doing it.”
Laughing, I tell him, “It’s a steak, cutie.” He scowls at the use of the nickname, which only makes me laugh harder.
While we wait on our meals, the conversation flows effortlessly. There’s no awkward first-date jitters between us, which I guess is one perk of dating someone you already know. An upside specific to Nate is him knowing about my diabetes—something I never thought I’d say. But because he’s aware my sugar is elevated, there are no uncomfortable questions about why I’m only drinking water or why I’m not eating the bread. Most guys would assume it was me doing that thing girls do when they only order a salad and pick at it like a bird, but with Nate…he gets it. He gets me.
When our food arrives, we waste no time digging in, our table blanketed in silence save for the sound of our utensils scraping our plates. Nate finishes his meal first, seemingly content to watch me eat mine. If he were anyone else, I’d feel self-conscious. But judging from the way his eyes darken every time I slide the tines of the fork out from between my lips, he’s got other things on his mind.
Things I have no qualms about playing into.
On my next bite, I make sure to lick at the morsel of pork before lightly placing it on my tongue, moaning exaggeratedly at the flavor. Nate’s hands form fists on the tabletop as I slowly withdraw the fork from my mouth. “Oh, God, that’s so good, Nate. So good.” My voice comes out soft and breathy, causing his fists to clench.
“Don’t push me, Jenny.”
I bat my eyes at him, transforming myself into the picture of innocence. “Maybe I like pushing you.”
Nate groans and my center pulses with need.
When our waiter comes to check on us, Nate whips his debit card out to pay without even seeing the check. “I mean it. I want you something fierce, and I haven’t…been with anyone since you.”
I stare at him, a mixture of shock and disbelief swirling through me. “Wait, what?”
“I haven’t so much as touched another woman since we were together.”
“You mean since I went down on you, right?” I ask, careful to keep my tone even.
Nate shakes his head back and forth. “No, I mean, since the wedding. Hell, I haven’t so much as gotten myself off to thoughts of anything other than you.”
My riot bees buzz to life, hope fluttering along with their wings. “But…what about…Mary and Sarah?”
“She’s the receptionist for the department and old enough to be my mother. Her daughter, Sarah, had a flat tire, and her husband was caught up at work.”
My eyes gloss over with moisture. “Oh, Nate. I-I assumed the worst. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, GG. I let you believe it because it made pushing you away easier. I figured if you thought the worst of me…” He trails off brokenly.
I give him a sweet smile. “You should know by now, there’s nothing you could do to make me want you less. Hell, you straight-up ignored me for almost two months, and I still wanted you.”
A dark shadow crosses over his face before he wipes it away with a smile. “Lucky me.”
Our server discreetly deposits the credit card slip, and Nate signs it, tucking his card back into his wallet. “Ready to go?” He pushes his chair back from the table.
“Yeah, Nate, I’m ready,” I tell him, meaning it in more ways than one. I’m ready to head home. I’m ready to invite him inside and for him to hopefully stay the night. I’m ready for his touch. I’m ready to see what our future holds. I’m ready for him—to show him that he is the guy for me.
chapter twenty-five
Nate
The drive back to Jenny’s is delicious torture. The way she keeps glancing at me, sighing and rubbing her thighs together, has the ten-minute trip feeling like an eternity.
Unable to resist, I bring my right hand down onto her leg, just above her knee, my fingers kneading the soft skin of her thigh as I slide my hand higher. She gasps when I move beneath the hem of her skirt, teasingly running my fingers along the line of her panties, wondering if she’s already wet for me.
“Jesus, Nate,” she whimpers, squirming against the leather seat.
“You like that?” I ask, turning down her long driveway. “You want more?”
“Yes. God, yes.” Those three words alone have me rock hard and ready.
I throw the car into park and withdraw my hand, even though it kills me. “Then invite me in.”
I watch with rapt attention as she unbuckles her seat belt. My hope dwindles when she exits the car without a word and reignites when she braces her arms on the roof and leans down, her eyes boring into mine, fiercely…daringly. “Well, what’re you waiting for?”
I’m unbuckled, out of the car, and sweeping her up into my arms in five seconds flat. Add another two seconds to get us up the steps and to her front door, and I’ve been waiting seven seconds too long.
Jenny quickly unlocks the door, and we slip inside. I waste no time spinning us, pinning her against the door as I devour her lips, tasting every inch of her mouth. She mewls, and I swallow down the noise, anxious to coax every single moan from her, desperate for the whisper of her skin on mine. I work both hands under her skirt, palming her ass and lifting her. Like the good girl she is, she wraps her legs around me, locking her ankles at the small of my back. The feel of her core pressed tightly against where I need her the most has me dizzy with want.
I kiss my way down her neck and across her shoulders—seriously love this fucking shirt she’s wearing, but I’d love it more on the floor. She whimpers when I remove my lips from her skin, her hips shifting against mine, seeking friction, her desperation driving mine higher. Using the door as leverage, I lean back and strip her of her shirt and bra. The sight of her dusky pink nipples and perky breasts. They’re gorgeous and, as of tonight, all mine. Unable to help myself, I reach between us and palm myself, trying to gain a modicum of control as I dip down for a taste.
I draw one tight bud into my mouth, sucking hard. “Fucking delicious.” I speak the words roughly against her skin, and she bucks her hips, demanding more.
I continue my ministrations, drunk on the breathy sounds spilling from her lips…the same lips she’s guiding me back up to with her fingers in my hair.
“Take me to bed, Nate. Make me feel good.” Her words are a soft pleading noise that I’m helpless to resist.
I carry Jenny up the stairs to her loft, kissing my way up her neck, licking at the sweet spot behind her ear, sampling the warmth of her skin with my lips; she tastes like sweetness and sunshine and mine. When I reach the edge of her bed, I release my hold on her, allowing her to slowly slide down my body until we’re standing toe-to-toe. With my forefinger, I skim her jawline before tilting her face up to mine. “Are you sure?”
“So very sure.” With nimble fingers, she begins unbuttoning my shirt, c
ausing my heart to hammer in my chest—damn, I want her. When she reaches the last one, I shrug out of it, letting it fall to the floor.
I swipe my thumb over her plump bottom lip as I take her in. Her green eyes are glazed over with lust—and some other emotion that I can’t quite put a name to, but whatever it is, I like it…a lot.
Popping the button on her skirt, I tug the zipper down as I drop to my knees before her. I shimmy the skirt over her hips, revealing a pair of navy blue satin panties with a little bow at the front. As I work the denim down past her knees, allowing it to fall and pool at her feet, I notice an ivory-colored lace band snug around her left thigh.
Reverently, I skim my hands up her legs, starting at her ankles. My lips join the action at her knees, and I kiss my way up to her thighs, alternating from leg to leg. When the soft lace of her garter meets my lips, I groan. Fuuuuuck…is it weird that the piece of fabric housing her insulin pump makes me that much harder?
When my mouth reaches the apex of her thighs, I hook my fingers into her panties. “These have to go, GG.”
“Yes.” She hisses out the word, her head thrown back as she wiggles her hips restlessly.
I grin and slide them down her legs, where they join the growing pile of clothes on her floor. “You’re so fucking sexy,” I whisper as I place my lips all over her body—except where she wants them the most.
Impatient with my teasing, she urges me to stand. The second I’m upright, she attacks my lips with a fervent kiss that drives me to the brink of insanity. After what feels like an eternity, we break apart. “Get on the bed, Jenny.”
It pleases me to no end when she does exactly as I say. Jenny looks so damn good, naked and ready for me, that I have to stop and stare. She’s this perfect mix of innocence and seduction as she shivers under my stare. How did an undeserving jackass like me get so lucky?
“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asks, trailing her hand between her breasts and down her belly, essentially snapping the final thread of my already fraying patience.