by Layla Hagen
I exhale sharply as goose bumps form on the skin of her arms instantly.
“The Nate Becker school of seduction?”
“Nah.” I run my fingers up and down her exposed forearm. “It’s a thoroughly researched theory.”
“I don’t want to say good night yet.”
“I can come in with you and keep you company for a while.”
Wordlessly, she unlocks her door, pushes it open, and steps inside.
“Sit down.” I point to the couch in the center of the room. “I’ll make you some tea. Was your mother still worried on the phone?” At the four corners of the room are lamps, casting a yellow glow in their corner, yet leaving the center where we are in a pleasant dimness, which is both smooth and inviting.
“Yes. She’ll only really believe he’s okay when she sees him.”
“That’s true for you as well, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
When I hand her the tea minutes later, she’s reading something on her phone, a look of intense concentration—and worry—on her face.
“What are you doing?”
“Just reading through my e-mails.”
I snatch her phone.
“Come on.”
I glance down at the screen. “I knew you’d be reading something like ‘Top 10 dangerous injuries not immediately apparent to paramedics.’ Shitty title.”
Pointing a menacing finger at me, she says, “If you don’t return my phone, I’ll tickle you, Nate Becker.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
I lean over her. “Because I’d wrestle you away from me, which might lead to very inappropriate things.”
She licks her lips, looking away.
“You’ll get your phone back tomorrow. I don’t want you to worry yourself sick overnight. You need a good night’s sleep, and I’m going to make sure you get it even if I have to stand next to your bed and watch you all night.”
“Please morph back into your cavemanish and arrogant self.”
“What?”
“I can go toe-to-toe with that version of you. It’s hard to say no to this caring version.”
“Then say yes.”
***
Alice
His voice is low, husky. This is Nate’s bedroom voice and I love it. He fixes me with his gaze, and I stubbornly hold it right until I feel the rush of heat in my cheeks, then look away. A prickle of pain stabs me at the spot right where my neck meets my back. I run my palm over it, attempting to assuage the ache.
“Damn, I hate it when this happens.”
“What’s wrong?” Nate asks.
“Whenever I’m stressed, it seems all the tension accumulates at the back of my neck.”
“Turn around,” Nate says unexpectedly.
“Hmm?”
“I’ll take care of you.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he adds in a lower tone. “I’m good with my hands.”
His words travel straight between my thighs, and I have to press my tongue against the roof of my mouth to keep a sigh from escaping me. Not trusting myself to speak, I simply turn around. Nate places the teacup on the coffee table in front of me, then sits next to me on the couch. I’m half turned to him and Nate pushes my hair to one side, baring my neck to him.
“Show me the painful points.”
I gesture to my neck, running my fingers over the specific spots. No sooner do I place my hand on my lap than Nate presses his thumb exactly on those points.
It relieves the pressure somewhat, and also turns me on. I can feel every rough patch on the pad of his fingers, and I remember how it felt when he had me up on the counter, one hand supporting my ass, the other bringing me over the edge. I remember it all so clearly, the pleasure and the ache. I ache now too.
Belatedly I realize why—Nate hasn’t stuck to the points I showed him. Instead, his wandering fingers reached the spot at the edge of my hairline. Those damn fingers are not to be trusted at all.
“Sweet spot?” he asks.
Instinct probably tipped him off, and the explosion of goose bumps was a dead giveaway.
“Yes.”
He places his other hand on my waist, splaying his fingers wide. My breath catches, as if someone sucked the air out of here. Then he pulls away.
“What are you doing?” I complain.
“You had a rule. Five dates, remember? I respect you and I respect your choices, even if I want you so badly it hurts. But respecting that means keeping my hands away from you or I’ll die from frustration.”
Licking my lips, I say in a low voice, “The rule wasn’t as set in stone as I made it out to be. I just needed to be sure you wanted me. Us.”
I hear him move on the couch, feel the leather cave in with his weight as he’s right behind me again.
“I’ve always wanted you. That was never the question. It’s always been yes.” Only our heavy breaths fill the silence for the next seconds. “Alice, do you want me to go to my room tonight?”
The implication in his question is clear, and it sends all my senses into a tailspin. I answer without a morsel of hesitation.
“No.”
That one syllable is enough for the tension between us to explode. Taking his thumb away from the sweet spot on my neck, he tilts my head slightly, placing his mouth on the exact same spot. His gorgeous, hot mouth. The sensation travels straight to my sex, and I can’t stop a shudder. He reaches to the lower hem of my shirt, pushing it up, barely a fraction of an inch. The gesture is a silent question: He’s seeking my permission. By way of answering, I push the fabric further up. My breath catches at the same time he exhales sharply.
“Nate.” Licking my lips, I dig my nails into the leathery surface of the couch, seeking to ground myself. “I want you too. So much.”
Before long, we’re both completely naked. I drink in the sight of him, all hard and hot, ready to love me and be with me in all ways. His hand on my chest, he pushes me onto my back on the couch until I’m lying with my head on the armrest. His gaze rakes over me and my nipples turn to pebbles under his scrutiny. When he leans over me, placing a chaste kiss right on my abdomen, I shudder. He trails upward to my neck, and finally my mouth. With every kiss, he steals more of me until he owns me so utterly and completely that it frightens me. This man has a power over me that I haven’t given anyone else. No matter where his lips touch me, I feel his kisses everywhere.
“I like seeing you like this, trembling with anticipation,” he whispers.
“Better make all this anticipation worth my time,” I tease, pointing to his hard length between us.
“Ah, sweet Alice, don’t you know that pleasure is best savored only after yearning for it?” He grips his erection at the base, placing the tip right under my navel, sliding it down a few inches on my belly. “Anticipating it until it’s almost painful?” He slides farther down until his tip is on my clit, and I go up in flames. A tremor shakes through me, the ache low in my body so real and deep I can’t stand it one second longer. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”
“I’m clean and on the pill,” I tell him. He blinks, as if not quite understanding. And then his nostrils flare as he exhales sharply, the meaning of my words clearly reaching him.
“I’m clean too, but are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say confidently.
“Because I want nothing more than to be inside you with nothing between us, nothing at all. Just your pussy squeezing me—”
His words detonate a million tiny explosions across my skin, deep in my body, unleashing a rabid desire.
“Yes.”
He tilts my head back for better access, kissing my neck. The tip of his erection slides up and down my folds, coating himself in my slickness.
“So wet and ready,” he murmurs in my ear, right before sliding inside me. He does it slowly, giving me his erection inch by inch, stretching me. I love that he’s careful and considerate. And I love that he’s shaking, which means it’s taking every ounce of his
control not to unleash all his passion.
“So good. You’re so tight.”
“You’re just big,” I whisper. “Don’t hold back, Nate.”
“Oh fuck. I’ll be a brute.”
“I want it. I can take it.”
He slams against me, pulling out and slamming back again, not holding back. I drink up his passion, reveling in it, basking in every sensation he awakens in me. He owns me right now, every single cell in my body.
Digging my nails in the back of his neck, I drag them down the expanse of his back, feeling every ridge, line, and muscle under my fingers, slipping lower still until I reach his ass. Yummm… those sculpted muscles are a work of art. Planting my feet firmly on the couch, I push against him, meeting his desperate thrusts, moan after moan tumbling from my lips. Realizing how loud I am, I attempt to muffle the sounds by burrowing into one of his strong, muscle-laced arms.
“No!” he commands. “I want to hear you.”
“The neighbors will hear,” I tell him just before yet another moan—a cry, really.
“Let them hear.”
He slams into me deeper still, and the friction at the base applies pressure on my clit, sending an electrifying jolt through me.
“So close,” I murmur, digging my nails deeper in his skin. When I feel him widening inside me, I know I’ll tumble over the edge in seconds. “I’m gonna—oh!”
Blinking my eyes open, I want to focus on his beautiful face. I want to see what he looks like when he’s on the cusp of pleasure, but his edges blur, the room behind him a mass of indistinguishable colors. As pleasure ripples across my skin, he covers my mouth, claiming my cry of pleasure while giving me his.
We stay entwined for what feels like hours, regaining our breath and our composure.
Chapter Fifteen
Alice
The next morning I wake up with a jolt and instinctively cross an arm over my face. Drawing in a deep breath, I can’t detect one single whiff of lavender in the air. Seconds later, I remember I’m not in my bedroom. I’m in a hotel with Nate. With my eyes still closed, I pat the bed beside me. It’s empty and cold. Maybe Nate’s sleeping at the edge of the bed. I blink, peering to my right. Nope, he’s not here. My heart rate picks up as I push myself into a sitting position, glancing around the room. There’s no sign of him. My clothes are in a messy pile by the couch, but his are nowhere to be seen. Still, I’m persistent.
“Nate?” I call loudly, then add in a smaller voice that sounds like a whimper, “Are you in the bathroom?”
I receive no answer, and there is no sound of water running from the bathroom. My throat closes up and I bite into my bottom lip. Then I shake my head, pushing a hand through my hair. I’m being very unreasonable. Maybe he had to meet with his team again and he left early. I don’t remember him saying anything yesterday, but that’s not saying much since I was out of sorts over Daniel. It’s possible I just tuned out that particular bit of information.
Pushing myself out of the bed, I head to my bag, which is next to the couch. My phone is in it, and I need to check the time. It must be before eight thirty, because I set the alarm for then. Daniel will arrive at nine.
It’s eight fifteen. I play with my phone for a few seconds, looking over the message icon, which isn’t showing any new messages. Then I shove it back in the bag and walk straight into the shower, leaping under the warm spray and spreading soap on my body with vigorous moves.
Even as I try to keep calm and reasonable, a small voice at the back of my mind teases me. Stupid, stupid Alice. Why do you keep hoping?
Well, if he thinks he can hurt me and get away with it, he has another think coming. I’ll hide my heartbreak under vengeful tactics.
By the time I turn off the water and step outside the shower, I’ve brainstormed about ten different ways to get back at him. That’s when I hear someone singing in the other room, then abruptly stopping.
“If you don’t hurry, your coffee will be cold,” Nate calls.
My heart soars and I slap my forehead. Oh my God. I have to dial down the crazy a notch… or a thousand.
Wrapping the towel around me, I tiptoe back into the room, hoping he can’t guess all my previous thoughts of revenge and whatnot. I shouldn’t have worried because my relief that he didn’t take off manifests in a grin so out of control, I suspect he might think I’m nuts. Which, in all honesty, I am.
“I bought turkey sandwiches, hummus and falafel wraps, a salmon wrap, and a salad. Didn’t know what you like in the morning.” He points to a plastic bag on the table full of sandwiches. Sitting on the couch, he takes a hearty bite from his wrap.
“What’s in yours?” I ask.
“Beef.”
“Then that’s what I want.”
He sets his jaw, shaking his head and muttering “Women.” With one regretful look at his wrap, he stretches his hand out. “Take it before I change my mind.”
Aaaand butterflies explode in my stomach, making my heart soar even more. “You don’t like to share food. You’ve never liked it.”
“I’ll have to learn if I want to coexist with you. I forgot your favorite pastime is stealing people’s food.”
“Not anyone’s food. I just steal food from people I like.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
I nod with conviction, then let him off the hook.
“Keep it. Next time buy me whatever you’re having. I’ll eat the turkey sandwich.”
Filled with too much energy to sit down, I double-check if my towel is safely fastened over my boobs, then grab the wrap with one hand, the coffee cup with the other. I realize I’m drinking from a plastic take-out cup. And the sandwiches were in a plastic bag. I’m really slow this morning.
“This isn’t the hotel’s breakfast, right?”
“Nah. Woke up at seven and went down with my team to eat before the day started.”
“Oh. Are they waiting for you now?”
“No, the joint program for today starts at ten. They all have free time until then.”
“Okay. So, you were saying about breakfast….”
“The food and coffee was so appalling I knew you’d have an aneurysm if you saw it. Clara did warn me about online reviews slashing their breakfast, but I figured the reviewers were jerks. Turns out I was wrong.”
“So where did these come from?”
“Drove around town until I found a decent-looking place.”
“Wow, how thoughtful.”
Thoughtful is an understatement. It was kind and sweet, and it fills me with an infectious joy. I nearly want to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming, and I might have done it if Nate wasn’t watching me. Grinning, he pats the empty space next to him on the couch and I sit, munching on my delicious sandwich.
“Just doing my part in saving the world from a hungry Alice Bennett.”
“Uh-huh… and you were accusing me of being a closet romantic.”
“What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.” Having finished his wrap, he sips from his coffee cup, eyeing the rest of the food on the table.
“Why did you buy so much food?”
“Thought Summer and your brothers would appreciate a good breakfast too.”
I put two and two together. “Are you trying to bribe my siblings with food? They’ll sniff this out”—I point with my finger between us—“right away.”
“Are you calling me a coward?”
“Hey, I was going to say you’re smart.” I place my now-empty coffee cup on the table and lift both hands in mock defense. “But if you want to go with coward, your choice, not mine.”
“You’re too sassy for your own good. The only time you’re not sassy is in your sleep.”
“Fair assessment. I didn’t hear you get up this morning.”
Something in my expression must betray me, because Nate asks, “You thought I took off?”
I clear my throat, trying to downplay it because I feel like more of an idiot with every pas
sing second.
“Alice?” he insists.
“Well, I woke up alone. The bed was cold and all your clothes were gone. I hadn’t had coffee, so my neurons weren’t up yet.”
“So you jumped to planning my early death?” he supplies, a corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile.
“I love your confidence in me, but I was merely contemplating painful torture methods. I’m far more innocent than you give me credit for.”
“Bet you are,” he murmurs. “You do know my entire team is here, and my bag with fresh clothes is in my room? Even if that weren’t the case, I’d never just leave.”
I lick my lips, nodding. “I see that now. It’s all about the coffee. Breakfast helps with thinking too. Basically the only thing I’m good at on an empty stomach is being neurotic.”
I’m rambling now. Nate plunks his coffee cup next to mine on the table, surveying me closely. I’m sitting with my feet tucked to one side, and I barely have time to register that Nate is up to something before he grabs both my ankles, pulling me toward him. As if anticipating I’ll try pushing my ass against the couch to stop from sliding right into his lap, he reaches under the towel, grabbing my ass firmly and lifting it.
When he drops me in his lap, I desperately check my towel, but of course it’s come undone. I’m flashing him my tits and my hooha. I thought he’d take advantage of this, but to my astonishment, he meticulously covers me with the towel.
“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.
“We’re having a conversation. Having your nipples in my face is distracting me.”
“Okay, then. Get to it.”
“You’re not gonna help?” he asks as he tries to fasten the towel above my right boob. By the way his fingers linger on my skin, it’s obvious he’d prefer to yank the fabric away altogether.
“No, I’m quite enjoying watching you struggle.”
His eyes flash, and I’m certain I’m going to pay for this. What does it say about me that I’m looking forward to it?
