by Lexie Ray
Nate smiled, but it failed to brighten up his face, which was an alarming shade of gray.
“They really liked it,” he said. “They’re going to give it a close read. I’ll hear back soon.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, hugging him.
“Jasmine, I was wondering,” he said, pulling back a little. “I kind of rushed all the way over there and the heat sort of got to me. Would you be upset if maybe we just had a small celebration here tonight instead of going out?”
Exhaustion dulled his usually bright eyes.
“Of course,” I said, standing on my toes to kiss him on the nose. “You’ve been working too hard. Why don’t you take a relaxing shower while I make some dinner?”
“Sounds great,” Nate said, pecking me on the lips. He dragged himself down the hallway and closed the bathroom door.
Poor guy. I checked the thermostat and set it for a few degrees cooler than we usually kept it. Perhaps the cool air would help refresh him after he got out of the shower.
I walked to the kitchen and surveyed the refrigerator. It was late in the week, but I was always careful to plan my meals for the rest of the days when shopping on Mondays.
I settled on a gazpacho filled with fresh tomatoes, peppers, corn, and other vegetables to start off with. I chopped the vegetables and added dashes of garlic and other spices to flavor the chilled soup. Once everything was processed, I put it in the refrigerator. That would really help Nate cool down.
Next I pulled a pair of chicken breasts from the fridge and cut pockets into the meat. I stuffed the pockets with basil, cheese, and some of the tomatoes I’d set aside. I popped those in the oven to roast.
While that was cooking, I cleaned and cut some asparagus to sauté and made garlic bread with the last of a baguette. A light kiss on the neck made me shiver and turn.
“This smells amazing,” Nate said, smiling and freshly shaved. He looked so much better, his hair combed and cleaned up. He was dressed in a loose pair of jeans and a blue button-down shirt open at the neck.
“Oh no,” I moaned, “now I’m underdressed.” I was wearing the yoga pants and loose T-shirt I usually sported while doing chores around the house.
“I can watch everything in the kitchen if you want to go change,” Nate suggested.
“Everything’s on a timer,” I called over my shoulder.
I took a quick shower and arranged my hair in a messy bun at the nape of my neck. I didn’t usually wear much makeup, but tonight would be an exception. It was supposed to be a celebration, after all. I swept on some nude-colored eye shadow and finished it off with a couple of coats of mascara. I paired it with a nude lipstick, then stepped into my dress. It was a cheerful summer sundress, soft cotton printed with bright swirls of paisley. Some of the greens in the pattern brought out my eyes.
Nate’s mouth dropped open when I walked back out to the kitchen, so I knew he liked it.
“That’s new,” he observed, holding me out at arm’s length and making me twirl around slowly.
I laughed, delighted with his reaction. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I picked this up at the store.”
“Believe me, I don’t,” he said, pulling me close and kissing me deeply.
“I thought that we could have a picnic,” I said.
Nate considered this for a few moments. “Do you think it’d be hard to take all this food to the park?” he asked.
“Yes, downright impossible,” I answered. “That’s why we’re going to have it here. On the rug.”
Nate grinned. “What can I do to help?”
“Pour us some cranberry juice,” I instructed. “Use the fancy glasses.”
He kept a set of stemware even though I’d never seen him drink wine or any other alcoholic beverages. He always said they didn’t agree with him. I appreciated that. There were too many bad memories from my mother drinking for me to witness anyone else doing so in good conscience.
While Nate completed his task, I plated our dinners, arranging the chicken, asparagus, and garlic bread on each surface. I ladled the gazpacho into bowls and we carried everything in front of the fireplace on trays. Everything tasted wonderful—just like I’d wanted. He groaned in appreciation at every forkful and spoonful of the meal. It was a perfect way to celebrate Nate’s accomplishment.
“If it wasn’t summer, we could have a really romantic dinner in front of a blazing fire,” I said, toasting him with my cranberry juice.
He tapped my glass with his, making them clink lightly.
“Who says we have to follow the rules?” he asked. He got up and fiddled with the thermostat before sitting back down on the rug. The resulting blast of cold air from the register made me shiver.
Grinning, Nate turned on the fireplace with a twist of the knob. Flames leapt up cheerfully, licking the faux wood stack.
“I propose a toast,” he said, hoisting his glass high in the air. “To Jasmine, my muse, to projects finished, to lists, to cranberry juice …”
“To fireplaces in the summertime,” I picked up, “to Nate, to books, to garlic bread …”
“To happiness,” he said, kissing me.
“Here, here,” I murmured against his mouth.
Our kisses started soft, but grew more and more demanding. I found myself wanting more of him. I pulled back to gauge his reaction to my aggressive kisses and was surprised by his shell-shocked face.
“I—I’m sorry,” I stuttered. “I didn’t mean —”
He silenced me with a deep kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth.
“No need to apologize,” he said, breaking the kiss with a grin. “I was just happy that you guessed exactly how I wanted to celebrate the book being done.”
The flames flickered, reflected in his beautiful eyes. I traced the shape of his face with my fingers, memorizing every single detail by touch.
He leaned in for another kiss, his mouth tasting of cranberries. Nate pushed aside the plates and bowls and tangled his hands in my hair, pulling me closer to him until I was sitting astride his lap. His closeness was electric, our bodies moving in tandem, our lips not parting for anything less than the need to breathe.
Nate worked a hand up my back, massaging every surface until he reached my neck. He focused his attentions there, making me moan softly as my muscles loosened.
When he worked his hand under my dress, my heart fluttered with both fear and anticipation.
“I don’t think we should,” I groaned as his fingers skimmed my panties.
“Give me one good reason not to,” he said, playing with my hair.
“I’ll give you three,” I said, “and they’re the letters ‘H,’ ‘I,’ and ‘V.’”
Nate’s hand played along my bare thigh. “Remember what your doctor said?” he asked. “Your medicine helps to keep you from transmitting the virus to your partners.”
“I wouldn’t feel right to endanger you just because I’m horny,” I said, blushing as he laughed. “I’m serious! You mean too much to me to risk it.”
My blush deepened at the admission. We’d done plenty of kissing and hand holding, but talking honestly about our feelings for each other was completely new territory.
“You mean too much to me to not risk it,” Nate whispered, nuzzling my face. “If it makes you feel better …”
He trailed off as he dug into the pocket of his jeans, producing his wallet. From it, he withdrew a single wrapped condom.
I burst out laughing. “What, is that a leftover from high school?” I asked.
“Very funny,” he said, tickling me until I screamed and giggled wildly.
We stretched out on the rug, all the debris from our indoor picnic spread out around us.
“I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to,” Nate said. “But Jasmine, I’m in love with you. I have been for a while, now, and you deserve to know.”
Everything changed with that one sentence. I felt like my heart bloomed, that everything was possible. I threw my arms ar
ound his neck, covering him with kisses.
“I love you, too,” I said.
“Then there’s nothing left to argue,” Nate murmured. “Let me show you how wonderful it is to make love to someone you’re in love with.”
He started working his hands up my legs again, tickling me playfully as he went. I grabbed his wrists.
“There’s something else you need to know,” I said. I lowered my eyes, swallowing nervously. “I have some scars.”
“Scars don’t scare me,” Nate said, trying to pull his hands free from my grasp. I tightened my grip.
“These will,” I said. “There are more than some. There are a lot. Some of them are very ugly.” I thought about the cigar scars that Tracy had given me as a present on his birthday. They still looked lurid under certain light.
“Let me be the judge of that,” Nate said.
I trembled as he gently raised my dress to my waist. He kissed me before lifting it above my head and off. Not breaking his kiss, he reached around and unfastened my bra, taking his time with the process. My heart was beating fast—almost as fast as if I’d been new to this game.
I realized as Nate eased off my bra that I was new to this particular experience. All of my previous trysts had been just fucking—and for cash, to boot. Nate was right. This was going to be different. I’d never been intimate with anyone I loved before. Hell, I’d never even loved anyone before—not like I loved him.
I might as well have been a shy virgin in his hands, even though I was far from it.
Nate gently removed my hands from my breasts, where the worst of the scarring from Jack remained as a testament to that period of my life. I cringed as he ran his fingers over them, afraid he was too disgusted to continue.
“You are beautiful,” he said, stroking my face. “You’re so beautiful, and you don’t even realize it.”
“I’m not, I’m damaged—”
“You’re not damaged,” Nate said, cutting me off. “Those are just marks. Look past them. I can see past them.”
He lowered his head and kissed each one, taking his time. There were so many, and he didn’t miss a single mark. By the time he finished, I was panting with desire.
“I love you,” I said, “but if you keep teasing me like this, I think I’m going to go crazy.”
“Your wish is my command,” Nate said. He peeled my panties from my body and rubbed my clitoris with his thumb. The flood of pleasure was immediate, unimaginable. I nearly sobbed with desire as he touched me, making my pussy good and slick.
I helped him unbutton his shirt, tracing my hands over every muscle revealed. The jeans came next, uncovering muscular thighs and a formidable erection.
“That’s been waiting for you for too long,” he said casually.
“Has it?”
I trailed my hand up and down his cloth-covered member, smiling as he hummed in pleasure. With a sudden, confusing rush, I was absurdly thankful for my time at Mama’s nightclub. At least I knew how to please a man—and I wanted so badly to please Nate.
Once he was completely naked, we pressed our bodies together. It felt so wonderful to be completely comfortable with another person. Still, I thought seriously about his well being.
“I want to do this,” I whispered, holding him in my arms, “but I want you to use the condom.”
“All right,” he said, smiling.
I tore open the foil and removed the condom before rolling it over his hard cock. He leaned in to my touch, kissing on my neck, running his teeth lightly over the sensitive skin there.
Side by side, facing one another, holding each other in our arms, he entered me.
It wasn’t an invasion; it was a completion.
Our bodies fit together so perfectly. I was wet for him, he was hard for me. We were meant to be together like this.
“Perfect,” Nate gasped, echoing my thoughts.
“Can we stay together like this for the rest of our lives?” I panted, kissing his face repeatedly.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he joked.
We started to move against each other, to thrust, to parry. We separated into two beings then came together into one body, again and again, over and over. The firelight made the sweat on Nate’s body glisten. I glided my fingers over it, tracing designs on his skin as he made me see stars.
It had never been like this with anyone at Mama’s nightclub. Never. The emotional connection that Nate and I shared almost crackled into the air, hotter than the fire heating our bodies, more potent than the chemical cocktail of feelings coursing through our veins.
“I love you,” he whispered into my ear.
“I love you,” I answered, kissing the shell of his ear as I murmured the three most special words in my life.
Nate rolled me onto my back, both of us giggling as the plates and silverware clattered. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, wanting him as deep as possible inside me. I wanted all of him. I wanted him to take me, to transport me away from everything.
He made me so happy. I wanted him to be as content as I was.
With one swing of my leg, I was on top, running my hands over his solid pectorals, down the washboard stomach. It didn’t seem like there was an ounce of fat on him.
“Where do you get the time to work out?” I asked, rocking against him.
“I do exercises sometimes in the office when I have writer’s block,” he said, breathing hard and holding me on either side of my hips.
“I’m glad the muses ignored you so often,” I teased, squeezing a bicep experimentally.
Nate laughed and thrust upward into me, making me cry out thickly.
“Is that the spot?” he crooned.
I nodded shakily and didn’t stop as he continued to find the spot again and again. He kissed the palms of my hands, caressed my ass, held me as I trembled and shook, and drove me to the most mind-blowing orgasm I’d ever experienced.
I sobbed out my climax, squeezing his hands as hard as I could as he twined his fingers with mine.
“I’m coming with you,” he gasped. Our mutual completion was the most satisfying experience of my existence. I kissed him fiercely as he reached orgasm, thrilling in the moment that I had helped deliver him to.
Nate was right. Everything was different—infinitely sweeter—when you were making love with someone you truly cared about.
Even as we parted our bodies and lay panting on the rug, the fire still flickering inside the hearth, I kept my hand on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, not wanting the experience of sharing the same body to end.
I never wanted to let him go, even as I drifted into slumber.
* * * *
“You know, my schedule has suddenly freed up,” Nate said, drawing lazy circles with his fingers over my naked back as we lay in the bed. After finishing, we’d both fallen asleep in front of the fireplace. Nate had awoken and gotten us both to the bedroom so we’d sleep more comfortably.
“Oh, has it?” I asked sleepily, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“That’s right,” Nate said. “I don’t think I’ll require the services of a housekeeper anymore.”
“No?” My eyes sank shut. I couldn’t resist the peaceful beckon of sleep.
“Nope,” Nate confirmed. “Can’t use one. I do, however, require the services of a live-in girlfriend.”
“I think I know someone for the job,” I murmured.
“Oh, good,” Nate said, cuddling up to me and kissing my hair. “Send her my way.”
“Done.”
Sleep claimed me as Nate melded his body to the shape of mine.
Chapter Nine
I awoke to the smell of frying bacon. I closed my eyes and inhaled. Was I dreaming?
Dressing myself in one of Nate’s button-down shirts from the closet, I padded out to investigate. Nate was tending several skillets on the stove, humming tunelessly under his breath, a towel thrown over his shoulder. I looked in the other room to see all of our di
shes from the night before missing from how they’d been scattered across the floor. He could cook and clean up after himself, too? Was this the twilight zone or what?
“Caught in the act,” I said, grinning. He froze and turned around.
“Did I ever tell you I could cook?” he asked.
“You’re going to be doing a lot more of it now, mister,” I said, putting my hands on my hips jokingly.
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll cook breakfast if you get us some tickets online to a movie this afternoon.”
“I think that’s a fair deal,” I said.
I skipped to the office, my stomach rumbling happily. Opening the laptop, I looked around the room at my organizing handiwork. I had always been driven to keep things neat since my tenure with Jack. I cocked my head at the thought, which had come out of nowhere. Last night I’d been thankful for Mama’s nightclub, and this morning I was thankful for Jack being such an obsessive creep?
Maybe I was going insane. That was the only explanation I could come up with.
I looked at the laptop screen, poised to open Safari, and stopped. Safari was already open.
I suddenly remembered yesterday afternoon, finding all the bottles of pills in the cabinet, searching the name of one of them, and slamming the laptop shut when Nate had arrived home.
What was it? What had the medication treated?
“Actiq,” the search result read, “is a drug to manage pain from cancer.”
Pain from cancer? That couldn’t be right. Shaking my head, I straightened up. I left the office and walked back out to the kitchen. Nate was pouring the orange juice.
“Why would you have cancer medications in your bathroom cabinet?” I asked, expecting a reasonable explanation.
Instead, he dropped the glass he had been holding. It shattered upon impacting the floor, scattering shards and juice across the kitchen.
“Nate?” I prompted, feeling a sudden chill.
He looked at me, and I knew suddenly the reasonable explanation for the presence of cancer medication in the bathroom cabinet.
