He stops for a second, staring into my eyes smiling. It’s the new trick we’ve started, which evolved throughout the day. The prolonged silence and intense stare are driving my mother insane. Every time we do it, she huffs and I have to stop myself from laughing out loud. It’s all fun and games now, but if she figures out we’re messing with her, there will be hell to pay.
Until then I’m relishing how much I love playing house with Nate.
My personal hot man walks back into the kitchen with my empty water glass, and my mom huffs, standing up and brushing a few invisible lint pieces from her pants.
“Since you’ve moved on from Barry so quickly, I don’t know why I’m here.”
I don’t either, I say, but only in my head.
“I’ll give Emma a bath.” She picks up the clean child from the floor and straddles her on her hip.
I smile. It makes me a horrible person that I’m doing this to my mother, but I can’t help myself. “Would you like Nate to help you? He’s got bath time down pat.” Lies.
My mother scowls and I secretly laugh as she refuses the offer. Nate has no clue what he’s doing when it comes to bath time.
“No, I have it under control.” She and Emma stomp off to the bathroom and I’m left hiding a giggle under my breath.
Tomorrow I’m sure there will be guilt for how upset she is, but she’s being rather ridiculous. What mother is upset her daughter found happiness? Frankly, if this thing with Nate were true, I’d be pissed.
The room heats… Or more so it smells hot. Like someone left a curling iron on a little too long.
“Nate?” I call to the empty living room, hesitantly standing.
There’s no response, and so with a single crutch I walk into the kitchen where I find Nate bent over the open oven. A few tendrils of smoke rise to the ceiling as he pulls out a pan of blackened cookies.
“Oh no,” I say watching the smoke rise higher and higher. “Get the batteries out of the smoke alarm. Quick!”
Nate listens and, without having to use the chair, grabs the alarm from the kitchen wall and dislodges the batteries. The alarm makes a small beep, but it’s more of a warning the batteries are out than an alarm over the smoke. I think he made it in time.
“What are we going to do with these?” he asks, hitting one a cookie with the spatula. It doesn’t dislodge from the pan.
He looks so crestfallen, like these cookies were his life’s mission. I can’t let him go down without a fight. The man’s a saint. He can’t lose his mojo over burnt chocolate.
“Let me find my cell phone and I might have an idea. Hide the evidence and keep the oven on warm.”
6
The smart phone, my link to the outside world, balances precariously on the arm of the couch. It only takes a few quick text messages with Winnie and we have a solution to the problem on the way. Having a friend who works at the bakery comes in handy.
The metal spatula scrapes against the pan as Nate does his best to chip away the blackened cookies hiding in the kitchen trash while I stare at him from the entryway.
It makes me stupid, but I can’t help the way my thoughts are changing for Nate. The first few days he was an intruder into my home driving me insane, but there’s this other part of him. The sweet part. I know the way we’ve been acting as a couple today has all been a show for my mother, but a part of me wishes it were true.
I’m worried I’m falling in love.
Which is absolutely ridiculous. First, I promised myself I’d never fall in love again. Second, I’ve only known the man like a hot minute. He could still be a serial killer and I wouldn’t even know. Third… I don’t have a third, but I’m sure I’ll come up with one, eventually. There must be something wrong with him.
I lean against the thick archway of the kitchen and realize for the first time in a few days my ribs don’t ache with the sudden movement. I’m feeling better. A lot better. I’ll also need the crutches for my sprained ankle for another week, but the bruising in my ribs and knee is almost gone. The skin is an ugly yellow color, but I no longer have much pain at all. If I was a better woman, I’d tell Nate it’s safe to go home. I won’t press charges and I can get along on my own at this point, especially with my mother here.
But I don’t want to let him off the hook. I don’t want Nate to leave. Even if that makes me the most selfish person in Pelican Bay, I want more time with him.
A loud squeal seeps out from the bathroom followed by a harsh, “Now, Emma,” from my mother and the smile I had while watching Nate fades.
“I’ll go distract my mom,” I whisper just in case she still has bat-like hearing. “When the cookies get here, put them on a cookie sheet and pop them in the oven so they’re nice and warm when you pull them out.”
My mother won’t get over the fact Nate knows how to make cookies nor the fact that I’m eating sugar.
Nate smiles and leans down, kissing me on the forehead even though my mother isn’t in the room. “We make a good team, snookums.”
He’s right. We are a great team together.
One I’m not ready to quit yet.
“Don’t rip out the cabinets! They’re fine!” What is this woman thinking? She could paint those and they’d look brand-new. This decision will kill her budget.
The TV show cuts to a commercial break and the reality of my situation sets in like a sinking brick. It’s a Saturday night and I’m yelling at the television while watching a show on HGTV. And the worst part is my mother isn’t even here. She left two hours ago when Barry picked up Emma for his weekend visitation and I haven’t changed the channel. After spending fifteen minutes cleaning the top of my stove, she said there was no point sitting around wasting the evening with me if I wouldn’t even talk design with her. She made it two whole days with Nate and me faking a relationship — much longer than I expected. The person I sympathize with is my father. He went from thinking he had a fun bachelor Saturday night planned to having to entertain my mother and her outrageous expectations. A piece of Oreo falls from my mouth and lands between my boobs, forcing me to fish it out.
It’s high time I face the facts.
My life is a mess.
I need to make some changes and get things in order.
But first I need more Oreos.
Since boob Oreo was the last in the house and I can’t watch another would-be house flipper mutilate her budget buying overpriced kitchen cabinetry, the only option left for me is bed.
With a quick flick of my finger I’m able to turn the television off and I groan as my muscles ache when I stand. Another sign of my impending age.
I’ve almost hobbled all the way to the bedroom when my phone dings with a text. My heart pounding in my chest, I open it as fast as possible, worried something happened to Emma, and she’s been rushed to the hospital. I hate not having her in my direct line of sight.
With a sigh of relief, I see the name displayed across the screen, but then I pick up again in excitement.
NATE: Open the door.
That’s a horrifyingly wonderful and scary as hell text to receive at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night.
I fix my hair into another — but not as sloppy — ponytail and toss my phone on the couch as I walk past it on my way to the door, the crutch slowing me down.
I’d like to play it off cool — because no girl wants to let on how excited a guy makes her — but there’s no stopping my huge smile when I open the door and see the tall brown-haired Nate standing on the other side.
Thankfully, his expression matches my own. In his hands he holds a package of Oreos. My eyes widen and then raise taking in the strong line of his jaw all the way down to his muscled arms.
“You brought Oreos?”
It’s like the man can read my mind.
He hesitates for a second, holding them out in front of him. “I did, but I’m not sure if you’ll like them.”
I narrow my eyes in his direction. Is this really Nate? Does he not know anything about me? “If
it’s an Oreo, then I love it.”
He chuckles. “These aren’t any Oreos. They’re firework Oreos. They have pop rocks in them.”
Pop rocks in an Oreo? Sounds adventurous.
“Apparently when you eat them it’s like an explosion in your mouth,” he says, the conversation turning awkward when I can’t stop looking at his mouth.
I swallow as Nate’s head gets closer to my own, the silence growing between us. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I’m ready so I don’t take the time to wait for him. Nate passes me the Oreos, but I use our close posture to wrap my arms around his neck and stand on my tiptoes, forcing our first official kiss. It doesn’t take a pop rock for my mouth to explode from the taste of his lips against mine. He steps forward, pushing me into the apartment, and once clear closes the door with his foot. Nate backs me up against the wall and our kiss intensifies. His body surrounds mine, his skin and his smile make the universe fall away when I have his full attention. At the last possible second, I lean back gasping for air. Nate rains kisses across my chin and down my neck as I tighten my grip, bringing him tighter.
He cages me with his arms braced against the wall, and the air between us is thick with passion.
“We need to slow down,” he says, lifting his head from the spot where he sucks on the sensitive piece of skin my collarbone.
“No,” I whisper before tugging on the bottom of his ear with my teeth. “I haven’t had sex since Emma was born.”
Truth be told, I haven’t wanted to since then. Things between my ex and me went south right after her birth and no one else has made me yearn to have that connection. Not until Nate roared into my life.
I step back, worried my admission will scare him away. He ticks away at his fingers like he’s doing math in his head and then stares at me as my cheeks redden in embarrassment.
I shouldn’t have made that confession, but I found myself caught up in the moment.
“This can’t happen here.”
“What?” I ask, swallowing hard.
7
“You need a bed and time to let me appreciate you properly.”
He steps back and my arms fall away from his neck in despair. I don’t need him to take his time. I need him to put his dick in me and give me an orgasm.
Nate basically drags me up from the wall, and I fight, not wanting to leave the space. As he passes, he steals the Oreos from my hand and throws them on the couch, not delicately at all.
I reach out, sad to see the chocolatey goodness leave.
When we make it to the hallway, Nate leans down, picking me up and wrapping my body against his. “Walk faster or I’ll carry you,” he says, as I cross my ankles, holding on for dear life.
I laugh. “I think you’re already carrying me.”
When we reach the bedroom, he drops my butt on the bed with a flop and my brain picks up where this is going.
“Wait, are you sure about this?” I ask, when I remember what I have on underneath the grey pair of sweatpants I lumbered around the house in today after my mother left.
He raises his head, his eyebrows knit together. “Cold feet now?”
“No, but we could go to the bathroom for a minute.” Or thirty. Put on some makeup.
He shakes his head. “There’s no time for that.”
“But you don’t understand,” I try again.
Nate shakes his head as he unties the strap in the front of my pants. “Yeah, you’re fine the way you are.”
“No really.”
He leans back, his eyes searching my face. “Josie, from the moment I first saw you, I’ve wanted this to happen. You aren’t going to take it back now because you think you’re not enough or your underwear and bra don’t match, or you want to brush your teeth. Whatever reason you’ve invented in your head. Trust me, whatever I find under here is going to be what I want. You are perfect.”
Well, when he puts it that way. With no more complaints from me, I allow Nate to finish untying my pants and lower them until there’s nothing between him and me except the black pair of granny panties I’ve switched to wearing over the last year. When you aren’t expecting to get any, it’s better to be comfortable.
Time slows as he removes my underwear from my legs, his fingers heating my skin as they make contact down my stubbled legs.
Nate tosses the underwear somewhere on my floor and then, with a hand wrapped around each of my ankles, he parts my legs exposing my flesh to the cool air of the room.
I swallow and lean back, resting my head on a pillow as he moves closer, the image too much.
“Watch me, Josie,” he demands.
His head fits between my thighs and his tongue sweeps out, licking at my core. I moan as my eyes dart open, seeing the top of his head lost between my legs. With a groan, I squeeze my already spinning insides, my thighs shaking against his head as his dark brown hair rubs against my skin.
It’s so warm, and when he blows a breath against my flesh, I arch my back up trying to get closer. I crave his touch as an orgasm grows in the pit of my stomach and gets larger with each tender caress of his mouth.
Two fingers stretch my walls as he pushes them inside my aching body.
“You’re so wet. I love it.” Nate moves his fingers, circling inside my core as my emotions continue to spiral. His compliments and admiration are more than I can handle.
I arch again, ready to come when he stops, pulling his fingers away. “Not yet, Josie. I want to feel you come around me the first time.” He sucks on my clit and I arch closer, trying to pull a piece of an orgasm from his lips. “Not yet.”
His pants lower and there’s a tearing sound before Nate lines himself up and pushes past my opening without delay. I’m full, but ready, and after a few short pushes he’s accepted by my body. He leans back moaning to the ceiling and lifts my ass in the air so he hits the same spot as before. Less than a minute passes before I’m back to the heightened point and I meet him thrust for thrust, wanting so badly what he’s offered.
“That’s it, babe. Fucking take it. Let go,” he grinds out.
As if my body is already his, I listen, and my pussy clings to his dick vibrating with need around him as my orgasm releases. I bite my lip so I don’t scream and scare the neighbors.
When my body relaxes, Nate lowers my ass and smiles. His eyes never leave mine as he pulls my hips getting himself deeper before he spills over, the jets of his cum stopped only by the condom and leaving me wishing there was no barrier between us.
“Fuck that was amazing,” he says, slowing his movements but not leaving me.
My eyes close, lost in bliss as I nod in agreement. Is it always supposed to be that good or is it only because it’s our first time?
“Are you sure I turned it off?” I do a quick injured ankle jog to the kitchen and see that, indeed, the oven is off. You can never be too safe.
Nate stands at the edge of the kitchen watching, a nervous expression on his face. “You checked the oven about twenty minutes ago. It was off then and we haven’t cooked anything since, so you’re safe.”
“Sometimes the burners stay hot for a while.” Fire safety is no laughing matter.
“Is there something wrong?” Nate crosses his arms against his chest and leans up against the wall as I hover my palms over each of the burners. “Do you need another orgasm?”
My hand doesn’t get warm at all but my mouth falls open while I stare Nate. “What?” Here he gave me two this morning. I’ve never had so much sex in my life. Even in my young carefree days when it’s all I wanted to do. I don’t know if I can handle another. I need time to rejuvenate. Do some Kegels or something.
“You are pacing. What’s wrong?”
I drop my hand on top of the burner. Not warm. “There are only four hours until Emma gets home. What are we supposed to do without her when she’s so close to getting home?” Doesn’t he understand this is what parents do? We sit around and fret whenever left to our own devices.
“I can think o
f some things we can do,” he says, lifting an eyebrow.
The implication makes a laugh. “No sex.” Don’t get me wrong, it was heavenly. I think I only slept three hours last night, but my baby is coming home and I’m already dressed now.
I should make her a cake — a welcome home cake. An I’m sorry you had to spend the weekend with your father cake. She likes chocolate.
“What are you getting out of the cabinet?” Nate asks.
“Oh.” I close the cabinet door I just opened. There’s no cake mix in there, anyway.
Nate steps into the kitchen and places a quick kiss on my temple. “You need some girl time. Let’s go.”
He takes my hand and practically drags me out of the kitchen. “Where are we going?” I ask without any resistance.
“To chocolate and friends.”
Well then, all he needed to say was chocolate.
Nate drives me to the bakery and we almost make it to town, the car passing the welcome to Pelican Bay sign with a wooden pelican sitting atop, when he asks.
“You think Emma will care if I spend the night tonight?”
He spent last night with me, but again we didn’t do much sleeping. It’s not Emma who gets a say. It’s me. Do I want Nate to spend the night again?
I debate for less than a minute before I answer. “No, I don’t think Emma would care if you spent the night. In fact, I think she’d like it.”
Let’s hope he picks up that I’m Emma. She’s two. Unless he sprouted red hair all over his body and started talking like Elmo, she won’t notice anything.
He slows the car when the speed limit lowers. “Do you want me to spend the night?”
I fight the smile that threatens to break, but lose. “Yes. I think I do.”
“Once you decide if that’s a yes or no, let me know.” He smiles, pulling into a parking spot in front of the bakery.
He has to know I want him to stay, but just in case, I play along for longer. Not to string him along meanly but to build up the anticipation.
Lifetime Risk Page 6
