Lost In Me (Here and Now)

by Ryan, Lexi

  I squeeze my clit gently. Right where I want his lips. My hips rock faster and his eyes grow hotter.

  I’m close. So damn close. But my own hand isn’t enough when he’s right there, when I can reach out and touch what I really want. “Nate,” I whimper.

  “Do it, angel.” His nostrils flare as I pinch my nipple through my shirt again. “I want to hear you come. I want to watch.”

  “I want you to do it.”

  “Do this for me.” His breathing is ragged. As if he’s been holding me up and fucking me hard rather than standing here watching.

  I can see what I’m doing to him. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

  “Fuck your hand for me, baby. Just like that.” His words make me wild and my hips move faster, my hand at my breast pinches tighter, and then I’m gone—tightening, squeezing, and exploding into a hard and fast release that’s better than any orgasm I’ve ever been able to give myself.

  As I lie limp in bed after, he climbs in beside me and brushes my hair from my face. “I swear to Christ, you are a living fantasy.”

  I force my heavy eyes open. “That was amazing. I wouldn’t have believed I could make myself…”

  “Get off?”

  I shake my head. “I knew I could do that, but it’s never that good. But with you standing there…”

  He presses a kiss to the side of my neck. “That’s what I want you to think about when I’m gone. When you touch yourself, imagine me at the end of the bed watching you.”

  I hear the hum of the vibrator clicking on, and then he’s pressing it against the inside of my thighs and sucking at my neck as he inches the vibrating wand closer to the apex of my thighs.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper, reaching for the button on his jeans. “I think it’s your turn.”

  “I might have had an ulterior motive for buying this for you.”

  “What’s that?” My breath catches as he brushes it lightly over my clit before returning it to my thighs. I part my legs instinctively.

  “I want to fuck you with this, Hanna. If I can’t have my cock inside you, I still want to fuck you.”

  I slide my hands into his hair and lock my eyes on his. “If you want me, I’m yours. I’ve told you that.”

  His kiss is hard and sweet at the same time. I know he’s trying to be noble, and I don’t want him to be. I release him from his jeans, and he groans as I take his hard length into my hands.

  “I’m ready,” I promise.

  He buries his face in my neck and presses the vibrator lightly against my entrance. The sensation is new and intense, and I cry out even as I rock my hips toward the intrusion.

  “Just imagine it’s my cock sliding into you.”

  I want to make a joke about his magically vibrating appendage, but the words die on my lips. I’m too distracted by the round tip of the vibrator poised at my entrance. He slides it in, inch by inch, while kissing my neck. Slowly in. Slowly out. Long, languid movements that already have my body pulsing in response.

  “Nate.” I try to draw back, to escape the sensation before I’m lost in it. He lowers his mouth to my breast and sucks hard. Then instead of pulling away, I’m rocking forward. Instead of withdrawing from the pleasure, I’m running toward it.

  “I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to be inside you,” he whispers. “You are so fucking responsive, and I could get off right here just imagining that pussy squeezing around my cock.”

  I cry out, my hips rising off the bed. “Please.”

  He groans in my ear and rocks the toy inside me, moving it deeper this time. “I know, baby. I want it as much as you do. But you’ve done something to me.” He removes the vibrator, and I cry out, hungry, empty, desperate.

  “Fuck me, Nate.” I wouldn’t have had the courage to say those words to anyone before meeting him, but he brings out this bold side of me. This wicked side. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

  “It would be so damn good.” He touches the vibrator to my clit and my body squeezes tight, climbing higher. “I’d never get enough of you. I’d fuck you from behind. I’d fuck you with your legs wrapped around my waist. I’d fuck you in the shower and until you thought you couldn’t come again.”

  “Now. Please.”

  He slides two fingers inside me and holds the vibrator snug against my clit. “Not until you’ve made a decision. Not while his ring is waiting in your jewelry box.” With those words, he rocks against my clit and curls his fingers, and I’m gone. Flying. Falling. Releasing.

  WHEN MY alarm beeps at four thirty on Friday morning, I roll over in bed and bury my face in the pillow, howling in frustration. I thought about Nate Crane all night—his eyes on me, his dirty words, his wicked touch. And when I managed to fall asleep, I dreamed about him.

  My body is a live wire of hot need at the memory, an ache pulsing between my legs that I don’t want to ignore. For thirty seconds, I lie there with my eyes closed and contemplate sliding my hand beneath the sheets to banish the ache, but guilt has me climbing out of bed.

  I take a cool shower before dressing and heading for the bakery, where I lose myself in the comforting motions of baking.

  Liz comes in at six and works the front while I experiment with a new cupcake recipe—stress management for bakers.

  When Drew comes in after school, Liz hands over front-counter duties and drags me away from my flour and sugar. “Time to stop stewing and get cleaned up.”

  “What? Who said I’m stewing?” I let her lead me up to my apartment, and I unlock the door for us and push inside.

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  My shoulders sag. “Totally.”

  “Want to share?”

  “I had a Nate Crane memory.”

  She frowns. “Was it bad?”

  I chew on my lower lip and shake my head. “No. It was good. Really good. And now I’m having memory guilt.”

  We sit in silence for a minute before Liz asks, “Does it bother you not knowing what made you choose Max?”

  The question makes me uncomfortable in my own skin. I want to say no. To swear that I don’t need to know. To say that every morning when I wake up, my heart chooses Max.

  But that’s not true. My heart? It doesn’t know what it wants.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” she whispers.

  I sigh. “Bridesmaid dress fitting this afternoon?”

  “Yeah. Yours is going to need to be taken in. We ordered them a couple months ago. I think we’re going to choose bridesmaid dresses for your wedding while we’re there.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess we need to do that.”

  She frowns. “Don’t get too excited.”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t fit?” my mom screeches from the other side of the dressing room door. “That dress fit you perfectly the day we bought it!”

  The seamstress studies her shoes and shifts uncomfortably. “I could try the zipper again,” she whispers.

  I shake my head. “It’s no use.”

  We met Cally, Maggie, and Nix at Cleanstein’s to try on our bridesmaid dresses and see if they needed alterations. They pinned mine to be taken in. Then Mom showed up and decided that I should try on my wedding gown for the girls.

  “Okay,” Mom says, pushing into the dressing room. “We can put off final alterations for, what, another couple of weeks if we need to. You can get the weight back off, can’t you, sweetie?”

  I look to the seamstress. “Is it possible to take it out?”

  “We have maybe half an inch to work with,” the seamstress says. “It might just be enough, but in a dress this style, there’s not much wiggle room.”

  “Let’s wait,” Mom says. “Hanna’s going to fit into it, and if not, we’ll take it out.” She forces a smile and pats me on the shoulder awkwardly before leaving the dressing room.

  The seamstress helps me out of the dress and leaves me alone to study myself in the mirror. Somehow it looks different to me now. The curve of my hips a
nd my breasts. The returning softness of my belly. This is a body two amazing men lose their minds over. It’s something beautiful. Something worth caring for.

  “Are you okay?” Maggie calls on the other side of the door.

  I shake my head to clear it and dress. “I’m fine.”

  She’s waiting outside the door when I exit the dressing room. “I heard it doesn’t fit,” she whispers.

  “I’ve gained weight.” I lower my voice to make sure Mom can’t hear. “There are probably only five pounds between me now and me getting that dress zipped, but just staying the size I am now until the wedding is going to be hard enough.”

  “Would you be offended if I offered my old dress from my canceled wedding?”

  I draw in a breath, remembering how much I loved Maggie’s dress. She ended up calling off the wedding, and I never thought about what happened to it. “Would it fit me?”

  She nods. “It’s a ten and it’s an A-line, so it’s only fitted right above your waist and at your chest. It’s in the closet in the guestroom at Asher’s if you want to try it on.”

  “You think Mom would flip out?”

  She shrugs. “It’s your wedding, Hanna. I think it’s more important you wear what you want.”

  Maggie’s wedding dress fits like it was made for me.

  “Oh, Han-Han,” Lizzy breathes. “It’s perfect.”

  The A-line bodice accentuates my breasts while making my waist look small, and the basic bridal satin is covered with the most delicate organza I’ve ever touched. The satin bodice is heart-shaped, with only the organza continuing over my shoulders in wide, sheer straps.

  “Do you want us to stay or do you want to be alone?” Maggie asks as I look at myself in the mirror. “Think about it for a little bit?”

  I watch my reflection as I turn side to side. I’ve never felt so beautiful in my life as I do in this dress. So why does the idea of wearing it in three weeks make me want to weep?

  “Can I have a few minutes?”

  She nods and ushers Lizzy out of the room with her.

  The bedroom has French doors that lead out onto a balcony overlooking the river. I unlock them and pull them open. Desperate for fresh air, I lift my skirt and step out onto the balcony.

  I close my eyes as the breeze brushes through my hair. I concentrate on my breathing.

  Everything is good. Everything is okay.

  My mind scrambles through reassurances, but only one calms me—I don’t have to go through with this. If, in a couple weeks, the idea of marriage still panics me, Max would understand. Wouldn’t he? Or would I lose him for good? And what would my mom think? She’d be so embarrassed to have another daughter with another botched wedding. Maybe the Thompson girls are cursed.

  “Hanna?”

  I turn toward the voice to find myself face to face with Nate Crane.

  His eyes take me in inch by inch, like he’s drinking in what he sees. Me. The dress.

  “What are you doing here?” After last night’s memory, I’m simultaneously more drawn to him than ever and more wary of being near him. Stepping toward him is as instinctive as breathing, but I catch myself and stop. I clench my hands into fists at my sides. I want to smooth over the hurt between his eyes, to touch his cheek and feel the heat of his skin under my fingertips.

  “You look…” His dark eyes scan over me again. “God, you’re so beautiful it hurts.”

  Birds chirp happily and the sun warms my skin, and I hate myself for wishing I could be seeing him somewhere else. That I could be someone else.

  “You probably shouldn’t be saying things like that to me.”

  He must hear it, that brokenness in my voice, and he must care something for me, because he lets out this long, shaky breath, as if he’s as fucked up over all this as I am. “You’re really going to marry him.” It’s not a question. More like resignation.

  I look down to my ring and remember Lizzy’s question. “Does it bother you not knowing what made you choose Max?”

  Nate turns to the river and squeezes the balcony rail until his knuckles go white. “When you told me you had amnesia, I wanted to believe he tricked you into taking that ring.”

  “Max wouldn’t do that.”

  Nate cuts his gaze to me. There’s something in his eyes—a secret locked away—but he doesn’t disagree. “For the record, I knew this was how it would end. We both did. It’s the amnesia that fucks it all up. Makes this harder than it needs to be.”

  “Max is perfect for me.” I say the words because I don’t know what else to say. I need to remind myself that I can’t have this man take me into his arms, no matter how desperately I want him to. Not when I chose Max. “And I’m going to tell him the truth. I’m going to tell him that I cheated on him.”

  His face shifts, that sadness and resignation tightening, hardening into anger. “You didn’t cheat on Max.” He drags a hand through his hair, looking like he wants to throw something. “Jesus. Is that what he made you think?”

  “He didn’t have to. I remember.”

  He draws in breath in a sharp hiss. “Everything?”

  “Bits. Pieces. Enough to know I was unfaithful.”

  His jaw ticks, and I can tell he’s fighting some kind of internal struggle. Then, as if he can’t handle looking at me anymore, he tears his gaze away. “You weren’t unfaithful. Not at all. The night you met me—”

  “Three months ago. In St. Louis,” I supply.

  “You remember?” The question is cautiously whispered, but I can’t tell if he hopes I do or don’t.

  I shake my head. “Maggie told me.”

  “You’d just broken up with Max that night. Come on, Hanna. Use that amazing brain of yours. You aren’t the kind of girl who would date one guy and mess around with another. You wouldn’t have ever gone out with me that night if you and Max hadn’t broken up.”

  “A breakup?” I almost laugh. “You don’t understand small towns. If that were true, everyone would have known.”

  “But you two didn’t want anyone to know. Your mom was helping him get that grant so his business could stay afloat, and you knew she’d stop if you two weren’t dating anymore. Things had gotten bad for him—he sold his fucking house, for Christ’s sake.”

  I don’t like the logic of those words—the way they dig into my skin and crawl like a hundred parasites.

  “You didn’t cheat,” Nate repeats. “Tell him whatever you want about us, but you weren’t unfaithful.”

  “If we broke up, why wouldn’t he have told me?”

  “Maybe because he doesn’t want you to remember that he broke your heart.”

  No. “He didn’t break anything. He loves me. He’s good to me. Better than I deserve.”

  He backs away. One step. Two. The invisible cords connecting us stretch and groan with every inch.

  The feeling scares me so much, I lash out. “If you really love me, you’ll do something for me.”

  He laughs, an empty, hollow sound. “You want a favor now?”

  “I want you to leave town.” It’s not a fair request. He hasn’t done anything to make me think he’s going to disrupt my picture-perfect life. But I fear I’ll do something disastrous if I keep running into him. “I want you out of my life.” I pray that saying the words might make them true. They’re the right words to say—I know that—but they hurt, like someone taking a dull blade to an exposed wound.

  “As you wish, angel.”

  Angel. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  Silence pulses between us for a beat. A living thing. “Because you saved me.”

  Then I don’t have to walk away. He leaves before I can process his words. And I’m grateful. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to walk away from Nate Crane while knowing I’ll never see him again.

  “Where are you tonight?” Liz asks, waving a hand in front of my face.

  I take a deep breath and shake my head. “Sorry. I’m distracted.”

  We’re at a club in Indianapolis�
��one of those honky-tonk places where they get female customers to dance on the bar. Maggie, Nix, and Cally are on the dance floor while Liz and I watch our drinks at the table.

  Liz frowns at me. “Don’t pull away from me again, okay? You can talk to me.”

  “Did Max and I break up before my accident?” I blurt.

  She scoots closer. “I’m sorry,” she calls over the music. “I thought you asked if you and Max broke up.”

  I nod. “Did we?”

  She frowns. “Not that I know of. Why would you think that?”

  “I’ve been feeling so guilty about Nate, but what if I don’t need to feel guilty? What if I was only with Nate after Max and I broke up?”

  She shakes her head. “Wouldn’t people have known? And then there’s the ring. Didn’t Max say he proposed months ago?”

  It’s crazy to have this conversation here, in this bar that is so loud I practically have to scream my secrets to the world. But I’ve held on to Nate’s words for over twenty-four hours now and suddenly I can’t handle it anymore. I need answers.

  “I saw Nate at Maggie’s last night, and he said I never cheated on Max. He said Max and I were secretly broken up, and I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want Mom to find out. She was helping him get a grant—a grant that was going to keep his club open.”

  “The Healthy Tomorrow Grant,” Liz says. She swallows hard. “They’ll announce the recipient next week, but I’m pretty sure Max is going to get it.”

  I know this already, yet hearing Liz say it makes my stomach churn.

  “Why did you break up?” Liz asks. “And why didn’t Max tell you?”

  I stare at my drink, Nate’s words echoing in my ears. “Maybe because he doesn’t want you to remember that he broke your heart.”

  Liz narrows her eyes. “What are you not telling me?”

  I exhale a long breath full of worry and second guesses. “What if I’m not the only one in this relationship who hasn’t been completely honest?”

  “What did he do?”

  I tell her about the random text message Max received the night of the engagement party and Max leaving because Meredith needed him. “It’s not that I don’t believe that’s possible. We all know she thinks the world is her freaking oyster, but why is anything she needs more important than being with me? There was something about it that made me feel…”