Wallflowers: One Heart Remains

by CP Smith

  The instant I slumped against him, spent from the fiercest orgasm I’d had in my life, Nate flipped me around until I was on my back. Then he began the process all over again, without finding his own release. He buried his face between my thighs, and with a single flick of his tongue, I jolted with pleasure, sensitive from tip to toe. In a matter of moments, I was grinding my core against his mouth, whimpering encouragement. I wanted that sting of pleasure more than I wanted my next breath. Wanted to drown in the sensations like before. In Nate.

  He sensed I was close, so he rose swiftly and entered me again. My head bowed off the bed as he sank into me with such controlled patience, I wanted to rip his hair from his head with frustration.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. I lowered my chin and met his eyes like he ordered. Those brown orbs burned with intensity. I reached up and curled my hand around his cheek. He was so beautiful.

  “You’re so beautiful. Inside and out,” I whispered.

  His eyes closed at my words, as if he struggled to see himself that way. “You fuckin’ undo me,” he growled before pulling me up so our mouths touched. We shared the same air, drinking in each other’s breaths. When he was close to releasing inside me, he found my clit again with a practiced thumb. I jerked, milking his shaft with the second-best orgasm of my life, and he followed me over this time, a low moan my reward for what I hoped was a job well done.

  We stayed like that for minutes: him crushing me into the bed and me stroking his back lightly as I relived the whole experience in a loop. I began to shake with happiness and the tears came back. I wrapped my arms around his back and buried my face in his neck.

  “Thank you.”

  He pulled back and looked down at me, concern etching the lines in his face. “Did I hurt you?”

  I shook my head. “You saved me.”

  Nate blinked, then rolled to his back, taking me with him. He shoved my face into his neck and tightened his grip, holding the back of my head so I couldn’t move, mumbling, “Christ. Fuck me.”

  I figured that was man speak for shut up, so I just smiled. I felt too good to worry about his reaction. He’d just have to accept the fact he was beautiful to me, and he’d saved me. I mean, it’s what Superman does, right? Just like Devin and Bo had each been Superman for Cali and Sienna. Nate was mine. Leaping small buildings in a single bound, fighting the dragon in my past, rising to the occasion within moments of us finishing, if the hard length pressing against my stomach was an indicator. Which meant quick recovery!

  Heck.

  Yes!

  Hope snuck a peek in at Nate and me, and fist bumped me with a huge smile on her face. Now I had ammunition against the Wallflowers!

  My cell vibrated with a text as we lay wrapped around each other. I glanced at the clock. It was after midnight.

  “Leave it,” Nate mumbled, teasing my neck with kisses.

  My cell vibrated again with a second text.

  I glanced at it and bit my lip. “What if it’s important? It could be Cali or Sienna.”

  Nate sighed, reached over, and grabbed it, grumbling, “It better be one of the girls.”

  “Who else would it be?” I asked, holding out my hand.

  “Another man.”

  “Another man?”

  “I wasn’t the only one in that video today,” was his cryptic answer.

  So he thinks someone will text me?

  “Wait, have you been receivin’ texts from women?”

  He dropped an arm over his eyes and sighed. “A few. Same with Bo and Devin. Women we’ve dated in the past who we haven’t spoken with in years.”

  Note to self: Warn the Wallflowers!

  “And you think because you’re receiving texts then I will too?”

  His jaw twitched. “The thought crossed our minds.”

  “And that makes you jealous?” I asked dumbfounded. No man could compare to Nate, but it gave me a squishy feeling in the pit of my gut that I meant enough to him he might be jealous.

  He paused handing me my phone. “I’m a jealous-possessive kinda guy, and I doubt any man under the age of eighty missed the shot of your sweet ass.”

  I rolled my eyes. I’d only noticed my rear because it was me, he was being ridiculous. I swiped my phone to life and accessed my messages, smiling at the absurdity of his jealousy. There were two messages waiting for me from a number I recognized immediately. I almost threw my cell across the room when it registered who it was.

  Saw you on the news, baby.

  You looked good.

  I could feel my blood run cold. I hadn’t heard from Blake since I walked in on him with his ex, and now he was texting me? Because of the news footage?

  Natalie really was in league with Bernice. Not only did she get all the single ladies (yep, pun still intended) to run interference for her, but now men from our past were also texting?

  I glanced at Nate and smiled. I should have told him it was Blake and that he was right about the video. I really should have. But Blake was no threat to Nate and it would only upset him. Natalie would win if this caused a rift between us.

  I deleted the messages and tossed the phone on the bed, making a mental note to text the girls in the morning. After Bo decked that creep from Sienna’s past last week, they needed to know they might get a few texts. They needed to be prepared because jealous Neanderthals were scary.

  I glanced at Nate and shrugged. “Um. It was nobody. Just a, just a sales call.” At midnight? Lordy, that was lame. I was an awesome liar though, so I doubt he noticed. Just in case, I flashed him my most innocent expression.

  He narrowed his eyes at me then they shot to my phone. His jaw ticked in an adorable attempt not to call me a liar. Did I say Neanderthals were scary when they were jealous? Scratch that, they were all kinds of cute.

  _______________

  My cell beeped an incoming text the next morning. I was tangled in strong arms and even stronger legs, my head resting on Nate’s chest. He’d kept me up most of the night. Apparently not knowing who texted me brought out the wild side in Nate. He was spent from showing me all the reasons why I should ignore future texts, so he was sleeping deeply. Not wanting to wake him, worried it was Blake again, I peeled myself from his body, rolled to my nightstand, and grabbed my phone. The text was from Cali, thank God. I looked at the clock. It was after eight.

  Cali: You up for a little breaking and entering?

  I hemmed and hawed over that for about a second.

  Me: Does a donut have holes? A pig have wings?

  The little squiggly bubbles started inching like a worm.

  Cali: Donut holes don’t.

  Me: And the pig?

  She responded with an image of a flying pig.

  Well, there you had it.

  Me: What are we breaking into without permission?

  Cali: Vacation rental agency.

  Me: Which one?

  Cali: Working on that today.

  She was still looking for the mysterious Uncle Joe, but it was Saturday in the a.m. We’d texted last night while I waited for Nate about how to approach the rental companies for their client list. We’d come up empty. I guess she’d decided breaking the law was the best approach. But in broad daylight?

  Me: In broad daylight?

  I needed to loan her some of my Karen Rose books. Breaking and entering was way more fun by the light of the moon. In black clothes. And face paint. Don’t ask. SCAD Bees never leave a bee behind, either.

  Cali: Negative. Tonight, while the boys are doing whatever boys do.

  Were they doing something?

  I glanced over my shoulder at Sleeping Beauty. His long lashes feathered over his skin like butterflies, and his chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm. He was still sound asleep, looking angelic. Or maybe fallen angel-ish with that dark skin and hair.

  Me: What are they doing?

  Cali: No idea. Bo just called Devin. They’re meeting at Nate’s tonight at 7.

  All righty then.

&n
bsp; Cali: So you’re really down for a little B&E?

  Me: Like goose filled.

  Cali: Ha! I actually got that!

  Me: You should be scared.

  She really should. My brain didn’t work right on a good day. In addition, to ADD, I had a condition called Sarcasize: the practice or act of being sarcastic. I had a bad case of it. Some might call it the DILLIGAF affect.

  Cali: Gotta go. Devin’s giving me the EYE. TTYL.

  It physically hurt not to respond. Physically. Hurt.

  I eased off the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, mumbling, “One-eyed monster got your tongue?” once I got there, so I wouldn’t burst with adolescent giggles in front of Nate.

  After cleaning up, I tread lightly to my kitchen and proceeded to search for my coffeepot. I found it in my coat closet, of all places. Don’t ask. I was stressed.

  The aroma of coffee must have woken Nate—that or my search was louder than I thought—because he pinned me to the counter while I scowled at my coffeepot. It was taking too long.

  “Mornin’,” he whispered in my ear, nibbling my lobe. That one nibble went straight to my girlie parts, and I shuddered. He felt it and smiled, then skimmed up my legs and caressed my panty-less bottom under his shirt I’d thrown on last night. It swallowed me whole, which made me feel dainty. I’d always wanted to walk around in a man’s shirt after having mind-blowing sex, so I’d confiscated it. It was soft and worn from years of being washed, and it smelled like my favorite person in the world.

  I kept my eyes glued on the slow trickle of coffee and held my breath as his hand trailed up my stomach then wrapped possessively around my breast.

  “Is this my shirt?” His thumb stroked the side of my breast.

  I nodded, and he nipped my ear.

  “Got two rules for you,” he murmured. “One, keep your fuckin’ door locked when I’m not here.” Whoopsie. I was hoping he’d let go of that misstep when he came in last night. Apparently, Neanderthals forget nothing. “And two, we wake up together.”

  His thumb grazed my nipple to make a point. He liked morning sex, good to know. I was pretty sure from the reaction my body had; I liked morning sex too.

  “Okay,” I whooshed out when his other hand wrapped around my neglected breast.

  When he kicked out one of my legs until I was open to him, I figured we were about to christen the kitchen, so I grabbed hold of the counter for balance.

  Nate had come to find me in his jeans, but I could feel his erection against my bottom, so I dipped my knees and rubbed myself against him. He hissed in appreciation, grabbed me at my waist, turned, and lifted me onto the countertop.

  “Fuck if I can go slow with you,” he ground out between clenched teeth, popping the button on his jeans.

  I leaned forward and ran my tongue around his nipple. “Why do you want to go slow? I hear hard and fast is popular with the under thirty crowd.”

  He grabbed a fistful of my hair and tugged my head back. “Hard and fast is popular with me.”

  I licked his lips as he came in for a kiss. “Hard and fast is the new black. I love black. It’s all dark and broody . . . like you.”

  His eyes flashed like lightning and he grabbed me at the waist and jerked hard toward his erection. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted so he could plunge deep inside me and give us both what we wanted. The head of his shaft was right where I wanted it, but he paused and looked toward my door. I heard it then. Footsteps outside on the landing, heading straight for my door.

  Someone knocked, the sound reverberating through my apartment, then a male voice I recognized called out, “Poppy?”

  “This isn’t happenin’.”

  Another knock. “Pop, baby, you in there? I texted last night, but you didn’t answer.”

  Nate was glaring at the door. At the word baby, he stiffened, but his face blanked in front of my eyes when he heard Blake say he’d texted. He started to pull away from me, both physically and mentally, and I could have kicked myself for not telling him. I knew I should have. Knew when I lied I shouldn’t have. How did I fix this?

  “Nate, I . . .”

  Another flipping knock sounded at the door.

  Why wouldn’t he go away?

  A shudder rolled through Nate’s body, and he closed his eyes. “Sales call?” he murmured softly. Deadly. Referring to my excuse for the text messages.

  “I knew you’d be mad. I was trying to avoid—”

  He grabbed my hips and plunged inside me without warning.

  I gasped in surprise but wrapped my legs around his waist.

  “Who’s at the door, Kitten?”

  He wasn’t pounding into me like he’d threatened a moment before, his strokes were controlled, slow. His hips teasing me as they circled to draw out the torture.

  “My ex,” I answered, trying to draw his mouth to mine.

  He pulled his head back so I couldn’t reach him.

  “The guy who fucked you over?” he asked like rolling thunder, deep and low. “The guy who took your innocence then crawled inside another woman?”

  My eyes shot to his at his anger. They were blazing. He no longer looked like a fallen angel but the angel of death. I swallowed and nodded. “I should have told you.”

  “You should have told me,” he agreed, then pulled out and slammed back in.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimpered. “I was tryin’ to avoid—”

  His hand shot out and he grabbed my neck, pulling me up against his chest. He stopped less than an inch from his mouth. “Then scream my name while he listens.”

  I never got a chance to respond. Nate kissed me so deeply my head spun. When he released me, the torturous pace stopped. He planted his hand on my hip and drove in hard and fast until my moans were loud enough to be heard outside my door. I screamed his name when I came hard, my fingers burning from holding onto the counter. Nate grunted low in his chest, pumping into me three more times before spilling inside of me.

  Our panting echoed around my apartment. I had no idea if Blake was still outside, nor I did care. If he heard, he heard. He was a jerk that I’d stupidly trusted. I was naïve but learned a valuable lesson. It wouldn’t be until I met Nate that I understood the difference between a man and a boy.

  Men didn’t play games. They meant what they said and followed through. Boys never grew up. They could live to be a hundred and they’d never grow up or take responsibility for anything. Blake was a boy. Nate was a man. And I’d screwed up big time not being truthful.

  “I’m sorry.” I was holding tight to him with all my limbs. I was afraid if I let go he’d slip through my fingers. “I won’t fib again.” I thought about that and figured that was a fib. “I won’t fib again about another man’s attention.”

  He pulled back and grinned, then kissed me hard, deep, and really wet. It was a thank you kiss.

  “I need a shower now.”

  He scanned his crumpled T-shirt. “Keep my shirt on.”

  I looked down at it. It was a white Jacobs’ Ladder tee. It was huge since he was huge. Why did he care if I changed? “Is me wearin’ your shirt a guy thing?”

  He looked at the front door. “It’s a jealous-possessive Nate thing.” He withdrew from my body and buttoned his jeans. Then he headed for my front door.

  “Nate!” I jumped down and rushed around the counter. He threw open the door just as I reached him. I jumped in front of him, blocking his path. Blake, the idiot, hadn’t left and somehow Nate knew. Blake jerked his head back. Blinked. Scanned Nate’s impressive chest, his freakishly big size, and took a step back.

  I pushed back against Nate to keep him inside and to keep him from killing Blake.

  “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  Blake did that whole blinking thing again and then scanned both of us. “I thought you were watchin’ porn. I was waitin’ for you to open the door.”

  Porn?

  Nate leaned forward, pushing against my back so he could get closer to the idiot
in front of me. I braced my hands on the doorframe and pushed back to save his life. “I see you again, I won’t be happy,” Nate growled. “No more texts. No more comin’ to her door.”

  Blake swallowed and nodded in agreement. “Not a problem, man. A quick lay isn’t worth the hassle.”

  What happened next was his own dang fault. I mean, who says that to a woman with a giant standing behind her?

  I gasped, Nate lunged like a panther, and Blake squealed like a pig. I was certain I was about to see my first pig fly when Nate grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifted him off his feet, bracing him against the wall.

  I had visions of orange jumpsuits dancing in my head, sure Nate was heading to prison if I didn’t do something, so I crawled between them and put my hand on Nate’s chest. It was a tight fit, but I was desperate. Thankfully, Blake had enough self-preservation not to move. I had breathing room but that was it. “I’m okay. Look at me, Nate. I’m okay. He’s an a-hole, but I already knew that. You can put him down.”

  Nate’s taut body relaxed a hair at my touch. I grabbed his face and tried to get him to look at me. His nostrils were flared, and his jaw looked ready to crumble under the pressure, but he finally looked down and met my eyes. His expression was murderous, so I released his face and rubbed my hand against his chest like I was comforting a child.

  “Please, baby. Put the idiot down. You’re squishing me, and my lady parts are gettin’ bruised.”

  He stared down at me a second. Then two. Then his lip twitched just a smidgen. He liked the idiot comment, I could tell.

  A moment later, he dropped Blake where he stood, scooped me into his arms, and stalked back into my apartment without looking back. We didn’t need to. We could hear Blake’s feet hitting the steps like his hair was on fire.