by Ellis, Aven
“Thank you,” I say. “Mom was devastated. Some of her friendships ended, as they were based on her being married to Dad. And she had no identity outside of being Mrs. Craig Hunter.”
“That makes the betrayal worse,” Nate says, a knowing tone entering his voice. “At least I had my career to keep me busy. But even that only goes so far. An affair is a brutal thing to go through. It guts you. Trust is ripped to shreds. You question if anything was real at all, you know?”
As I hear his words, I feel a heaviness come over my heart. I know Nate has taken steps with me. Including a big one today. But can he ever really recover from this?
Can he ever trust me enough to give his heart to me?
“How is CiCi now?” Nate asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I snap out of my thoughts. I clear my throat and refocus. “Well, Dad has a new girlfriend because the relationship with his mistress didn’t last. She’s Amanda’s age,” I say, lifting an eyebrow.
“Wow. Go, Dad,” Nate teases.
I punch him on the arm, and he laughs.
“And I see him once a month for dinner,” I say. “Mom is slowly getting better. She’s in a book club now, joined a ‘women who lunch’ group, takes pottery classes. CiCi loves her granddaughters and is hands-on with them, too.”
“But she doesn’t date, does she?”
I shake my head. “No. Mom says she will never date again, and I believe her.”
“I understand that,” Nate says softly.
My heart freezes inside my chest, doubt floating up to the surface, no matter how hard I try to shove it back down.
“I mean, I didn’t want to get near any woman after what Megan did to me,” he says. “It’s so hard because you don’t trust yourself. You don’t trust what people say to you.”
Like I did after Chase, I think. Except I fully trust you with my heart, Nate.
“And I wasn’t about to take the smallest chance of going through that kind of pain again,” Nate continues. “Marabou! Come here!”
I watch as Marabou tromps through the grass, his tongue hanging out and his bloodhound ears flopping.
“But then I met you.”
My heart stops. I shift my attention back to Nate.
“And now I want to try again,” Nate says.
Marabou jumps up to Nate and barks, and Nate scoops him up in his arms. Marabou affectionately licks Nate’s face, and he grins in response. Then Nate sets the puppy down again, and he moves toward some dogs in the run.
“You make me want to try again,” Nate says. “You’ve changed that in me, Kenley. Oh, hold on. I’ll be right back.”
Suddenly Marabou is getting into it with another dog, and similar to a protective father, Nate quickly goes to move Marabou out of harm’s way.
I sit on the bench, alone with my thoughts. I should be elated by his words. Nate’s telling me I’m the one person who has changed his mind. I’m the reason he’s dating. I’m the one he wants to take steps with, to see what this could become between us.
But part of me is rattled by his honesty. While my heart has moved forward, and I’m already falling in love with this man, he’s still moving in that direction. He’s not there yet. Nate’s making that clear to me.
Yet his actions speak stronger than his words. What about the way he wants to wait before making love? The way Nate holds me close to him? The fact that he’s not seeing anyone else, the fact that he called Marabou “our” dog?
It would be so much easier if I could remove Nate’s emotional scars. I wish I could tell him he can trust me and give me his heart. I’d keep it forever. But he’s not a cake I can bevel. I can’t just remove the pieces that are rough and leave the surface that I want.
I want to shut my brain off. Lexi is right. I’m overthinking this. I need to be with Nate. That is enough for now.
And pray with all my heart Nate will get to the place where I am.
Because I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.
Chapter 22
Clearing the puck: Shooting the puck out of your own defensive zone — Nate
“Kenley,” CiCi declares as we all settle around the table at The Mermaid Bar, “please tell me you’ve come to your senses and are no longer serious about this Nate man.”
Shit, seriously, Mom? I haven’t even opened my menu before Mom starts in about Nate.
“Mr. Nate works in the drive-through, CiCi,” Claire says knowingly. “He gave us coffee in a window.”
“Yes, he sounds charming,” CiCi says in a bored tone, picking up some hand sanitizer and squirting it into Claire’s tiny hands. “Rub, rub, Claire. We don’t want nasty germs all over you, Princess.”
“Nate’s a good guy,” I say firmly. “And we’re dating. Exclusively, by the way.”
“Of course you are. He needs a cover. That’s why he doesn’t want anything serious with you. Darling, can’t you see you’re his smokescreen?”
“Mom,” Amanda snaps as she puts Bella in a high chair. “He’s not gay, so will you stop with that? And if you quote Tumble one more time, I swear I’ll go mental.”
“I can assure you he’s not gay,” I say firmly.
“Hmmph,” Mom says dismissively, opening her menu.
“CiCi, did you know Mr. Nate loves Twilight Sparkle?” Claire says happily, talking about her favorite My Little Pony. “He loves the color purple like me!”
“Of course he does,” Cici says. Then she gravely shakes her head. “But there’s not much I can say if you are determined Nate is going to be your Life Ruiner.”
I take one look at Amanda, she looks at me, and we both burst out laughing.
“Okay, Mom, it’s time to step away from Tumblr,” Amanda commands.
And Amanda and I crack up all over again.
“Honestly, I don’t know what is so amusing to you girls,” Mom declares.
The server comes over and takes our drink orders, and at least for the moment, Nate the Gay Life Ruiner is forgotten.
“So, Kenley,” Mom says, her eyes still studying the menu, “I want to hire you for a little party I’m hosting.”
I nod. Sometimes Mom will have me do a dessert tray or table when she has her book club or friends over.
“Sure,” I say, trying to decide between pasta or salad.
“It’s for something very special,” Mom says in a knowing tone.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Mom closes her menu and leans across the table. She glances around before she speaks, and then drops her voice. “A passion party.”
What?
What did she just say?
“Pardon?” I ask, thinking I didn’t hear her correctly. I glance at Amanda, who has a confused look etched on her face.
“Well, it’s for all of us divorcees who don’t want to date,” Mom explains. “I found a discreet company that will come to your home and host a party with all the latest pleasure devices.”
And just as she says that, the server arrives with our drinks.
I feel my mouth fall open as my spiced iced tea is placed in front of me.
My mother is having a sex toy party.
A sex toy party!
“Are you serious?” Amanda asks, a shocked tone in her voice.
I can’t even picture it. My mom–elegant, polished, proper mom—is having a dildo party?
“Why not?” Mom says, taking a sip of her chardonnay. “I still have needs, you know.”
“Oh God,” I say, burying my face in my hands. I so don’t need to know these things about my mom.
“So what is Kenley going to do? Provide erotic-shaped cupcakes?” Amanda asks.
“I will not!” I cry, horrified at the thought.
“Ewotic cupcakes, y
ummy!” Claire says as she colors on her paper.
“See what you’ve done?” Mom snaps. “No, just cupcakes, sweetie. CiCi will get you one once we’ve had lunch.”
“Mmmmm. Vanilla?” Claire asks.
“Of course,” Mom reassures her, shooting me and Amanda a look. “I would have thought my own daughters would be supportive.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We are, Mom. And I’ll do a nice dessert assortment once you give me the number of attendees.”
Amanda is texting on her phone, and my phone vibrates in my chevron tote.
I fish it out and see Amanda has texted me:
Dare you to do a penis cake
I bite down hard on my lower lip to keep from laughing.
“Thank you, darling,” Mom says happily.
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with for that, Kenley,” Amanda says, baiting Mom.
“Oh, and Amanda,” Mom says, “I will schedule it for a weekend when Ryan is home so you can come. You need to keep things spicy in the bedroom if you want to keep his interest.”
Ha! Ha! Ha! Amanda looks like she’d rather watch a hundred episodes of My Little Pony straight than attend a pleasure party with Mom and her friends.
I text Amanda back:
Ryan might like whips, chains, and flavored body paint. Remember, CiCi says you have to keep it spicy!
Then I hit ‘send.’ Amanda’s phone vibrates and she flips it over, and I can see she is trying her best not to crack up. Her fingers go flying across the keypad, and my phone beeps with a new text:
Maybe you could consult with me on using chocolate as a sex aid. Let me know after you try it out on Nate.
Now my face is flush with embarrassment. Mom changes the topic, but I’m stuck on the idea of melted chocolate and Nate and, good Lord, could I even handle that? I can barely manage it when his skin brushes against mine, let alone something erotic like licking chocolate off his rock-hard body . . .
Gah! I drink some tea and take a calming breath of air. Refocus, refocus, refocus. I need to clear the puck, I think, remembering a hockey term Nate taught me.
But Nate isn’t ready for that. You don’t have a conversation about baby steps one day and then licking chocolate off each other the next night. Besides, I don’t think I could survive it. Because it would be so damn sensual I’d probably die from self-implosion.
Yet somehow I can’t get the image out of my head.
And it will take everything I have not to suggest this idea to Nate when I see him after his game tonight.
“I’ve waited for this all day,” Nate says, bringing me into his chest the second I step inside his condo. His strong arms wrap around me, his eyes nowhere but on mine, a smile filtering across his face. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say, my heart already speeding up in anticipation of his kiss.
Nate is about to kiss me when Marabou starts barking. I laugh and look down at him, and he’s looking up at me, wagging his tail.
“Nope, buddy, you’ve got to wait. Because now it’s my turn. And I’m not giving it up.” Nate lifts his hands to my face, stroking it sensually. “Now where was I?” he whispers. “Was I about to kiss you, Bae? Is that what you want from me?”
I take my index finger and brush it over my lips to tease him. “I believe your lips should be right here,” I say flirtatiously.
Nate’s eyes flicker with desire. The second I see the hunger in his eyes, my pulse singes.
“Oh, do you now?” Nate says, lifting an eyebrow and extending our flirting game. “So you want my lips,” he says, slowly grazing his thumb across my lower lip in a deliberate manner, “right here?”
Okay. I need to tell Nate, To hell with the perfect night, let’s melt some chocolate and have at it right now.
Now my heart is slamming against my ribs. He’s making me want this kiss so badly I can barely stand it.
“I will trade you,” I say, now taking my index finger and tracing a line down his neck, to the base of his throat. “A kiss on the lips for my lips on the base of your throat.”
Then I slide my hands up the back of his neck, bringing him closer, and I press my lips lightly against his throat, tasting him, the scent of shower and masculine cologne as I allow my tongue to dance across his olive skin.
A moan escapes his lips, and my breath catches in my throat when I hear the need in that simple sound.
“Kenley,” he murmurs. “Christ, what are you doing to me?”
I know what I want to do to him.
I want to love this man.
I want Nate, and I want him now.
I begin to unbutton his light-blue dress shirt, my lips finding his collarbones, his exposed skin. “I want you. Let me show you how much I do, Nate.”
I feel his body stiffen against mine. Suddenly his hands are in my hair, lifting my head from his chest.
I can see it in his eyes. Nate’s about to protest. I see how badly he wants this moment to be now, but I know he’s going to fight it because he doesn’t think it’s perfect.
I put my fingertips to his lips to silence him. “I know you want our first time to be everything I never had. But don’t you see it will be? It will be because it’s with you. You are what matters in this. It has to be you.”
I can feel his chest rise and fall quicker. Nate’s wrestling with this, being tortured by need like I am.
“I,” Nate says, his eyes burning into mine, “am going to love you like no other man can. Tonight. Right now.”
Chapter 23
Candy thermometer: A special thermometer used to check the temperature for cooking sugar syrups and caramel — Kenley
I stand before Nate, my hands shaking on his broad chest. We’re going to take this step.
Nate is going to make love to me.
He slides his hands through my hair, to my face, which he’s stroking in a slow, deliberate fashion, letting his fingers glide across my cheekbones in a whisper-like graze.
“I promise you,” Nate says, cupping my face with one hand while the other wraps over my hands on his chest, “that everything I say to you tonight, every single word that crosses my lips, is real.”
Tears fill my eyes. He’s promising me he’s not Chase. He wants me to know this means something to him.
That I mean something to him.
“Do you trust me?” Nate whispers. “Do you trust me to love you tonight?”
“Yes,” I answer with a shaky breath. “I trust you with everything.”
Nate lets his fingertips glide down my neck, to my collarbone, and then trailing down the edge of the short, silk kimono I’m wearing over my tank top. His fingers move oh-so-slowly down the fabric, barely brushing my skin, but yet making my body burn white hot in anticipation.
His fingers continue to trail, to explore, until he gets to the top of my jeans. Nate then moves the fabric aside and places his hands on my hips.
A gasp escapes my lips as he draws me into his body. “I want you,” Nate says sexily, his thumbs now dancing seductively across my hipbones. His lips find mine, brushing against them in a whisper kiss. I’m about to take more from him when he lifts his head. “Now I believe you owe me a kiss on the neck,” he whispers.
Oh God. If I were to use a candy thermometer to take my temperature right now, I’d be at 450 degrees.
I slide my hands to his neck, bringing him toward me, and lightly tracing my fingertips across his neck.
“I’m going to kiss you here,” I murmur against his skin, allowing myself to taste him once again.
Nate moans, and I feel his body harden against mine, his hand moving up my back, cradling me to him.
“I love the way you kiss,” he murmurs into my ear. “I love the way your lips feel on my skin.”
His facial hair brushes against my face as he nuzzles me. My breathing grows more rapid. Nate kisses my lips again, this time taking a bit more from me. When Nate takes his lips away, a cry of protest escapes my lips.
“Nate,” I whisper as I slide my hands to his face, feeling his stubble with my fingertips. “I want you so much.”
“I never thought I’d feel this way again,” Nate says, “and I can’t think of anything but you.”
He reclaims my lips with urgency. I need to feel skin on skin. I need to see his gorgeous body, his tattoos, all of him. I begin unbuttoning his shirt, and Nate’s tongue demands more of me, frantic, urgent, seeking.
Nate slides his hands underneath my kimono, inching up my back, his lips scorching against mine as his strong hands move over my shoulders and ease the kimono off, letting it fall to the floor.
I go back to his dress shirt, working the buttons, and now it’s open, just hanging from his chiseled body. He’s so beautiful, and this body—this perfect, sculpted, warrior body—is going to love me tonight.
I move my hands over his chest and his abs. Then I gently take my hand and lightly run it up the tattooed sleeve arm, the one that was designed from a broken heart. I lift my eyes up to his, and I don’t see pain in those espresso-colored eyes.
All I see is desire.
For me.
I realize what a leap he’s taking tonight. To put his heart in a position to be hurt again. I wrap my fingers around his hand, and I gently turn his tattooed arm over. I place my lips on the inside of his wrist, delicately kissing him in a spot that once reminded him never to be vulnerable again.
