by Ally Decker
Nate crossed the room in a second and pulled her against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair. Richard Dowson had seemed like a nice enough man, not a bad mayor, and hell, he might even make a decent senator one day. But he was definitely a shitty father. “I’m sorry.”
Claire slumped into the hug, and her body shook when she circled her arms around his waist.
They stood like that for the longest time, and Nate could feel himself relaxing in response to her closeness. It hadn’t even been two days, but it seemed much longer since they’d last been together, and he didn’t know what to do with that.
Then she froze and pulled back, and Nate forced himself to drop his arms from around her.
“God, I’m so sorry,” Claire said, looking up at him. “I’m… I just had to get away before I made a public scene, and I ran. And I came here, and God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for just barging in like this, I’m sorry for what I said after the party, I’m…” She crossed her arms over her stomach and looked down. “You didn’t deserve any of this. I’m sorry.”
Nate nodded, trying to figure out what to say.
“You don’t have to apologize for coming here. I’m glad you’re here.” I’m glad I can be the person you turn to. “I really am.”
“I accused you of things you didn’t do, and I didn’t want to listen.” She met his gaze again. “I hurt you.”
“I know, I was there.”
The words slipped out of him before he could stop them, and he grimaced. “Sorry,” he murmured, rubbing the base of his nose.
The silence was more and more stifling with each passing second, and fuck it, Nate was not going to just let it all go. He was in too deep now to watch Claire just walk away because he got hurt.
“Let’s sit down and talk, okay?”
Her eyes widened as if it wasn’t what she expected, but she sat down at the edge of the couch, and after quickly considering and discarding the armchair on the other side of the coffee table, Nate sat next to her.
“I don’t know where we would even start,” she said but still turned so she could face him.
And the thing was, Nate didn’t, either. He felt wrong-footed, out of his game. He was a fixer, he handled crises for a living, and now he couldn’t even figure out a right way to have this conversation.
“What changed your mind?” he asked, and yeah, he probably shouldn’t have started there, but it was the question he kept coming back to. It had been what hurt him the most, the certainty with which she’d thrown her accusations at him that night. What could possibly turn her around?
Claire rested her elbows on her thighs, leaning forward. “It was my mom.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “Your mom changed your mind?” He had seen Barbara Dowson twice, and she might’ve liked him, but to defend him to her daughter like that? That seemed odd.
“It was my mom who told him. She… She found my transfer request once when she was visiting me at the precinct.” Claire shook her head like she had trouble believing what she was saying. “She didn’t say anything to me about it, but she apparently thought it would be a good idea to tell my father.”
Wow. That backfired pretty spectacularly. Nate had met a lot of women like Barbara Dowson over the years—committed to their husbands, either blind to their faults or used to them. These were the women who, on one hand, learned how to navigate through some storms, but on the other, could still be completely surprised by the icebergs they should’ve seen coming.
“She came to tell me this today—I mean, this, and that she had no idea what my father was planning.” Claire stared at her clasped hands. “She also told me Shawn didn’t know, either. I’m…” She looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I should’ve listened to you.”
Nate nodded. “Yeah, you should’ve,” he said quietly, glancing down at her clasped hands as well. If she’d just listened to him…
But he knew, deep down, that it was easier said than done. Because while he’d met many women like Barbara, he’d also met quite a few like Claire—struggling to trust anyone, almost expecting to be let down.
It hurt to be on the receiving end of that, he couldn’t deny that, but in the end, he understood how it worked. And no matter how he wished it was different, less than two months of dating Nate were nothing compared to thirty years of dealing with a father like Richard Dowson.
Claire bit her lower lip again. “I understand if you don’t want to see me again—”
“I want to,” Nate cut in, reaching out and covering her hands with his. This, he was sure of. They had things to work on, and the hurt didn’t just disappear in a second, but above all, he wanted this. He wanted her. There were things bubbling inside of him that he had to swallow down because it was too early to say them, but this he could easily admit. “I want to.”
She pushed forward and kissed him, and it was probably the worst kiss they’d ever shared—the angle was all wrong, and she smashed their lips together too hard—but Nate didn’t care. It was easy to readjust, and then it was as good as it always was. Her mouth opened when he licked over her lips, and she cradled his face in her hands carefully, teasing his skin with light brushes of her fingertips. He pulled her closer as he leaned back against the couch cushions, and she followed without hesitation, sliding half-over him, her body fitting perfectly against his.
They paused to catch a breath at some point and Claire left a line of kisses over his cheek, pausing with her lips next to the corner of his eye. “I am truly sorry,” she whispered, her fingers distracting him as she was running them up and down the nape of his neck. “You were nothing if not supportive, and I—”
“I forgive you.” He twisted his head so he could kiss her neck. It was the easiest thing to do, really. He didn’t want to hold a grudge, didn’t want to fight anymore. She was here, close and looking at him as if he was something special. It was more than enough.
The rest, they would get better at.
She kissed him again, and it was slow and…safe, from the lack of a better word—like a promise of a thousand kisses more.
When they broke apart this time, she snuggled against his side, curling her legs under her.
“I am tempted to smear him in the media, you know,” she admitted quietly after a while.
Nate stilled his fingers he was running up and down her arm. He made a non-committal sound and started the motion again, not sure where she was going with this. Was she seriously considering this, or was it some kind of a test?
“Deep down I know it’s not going to accomplish anything,” she went on, “but I just… I blew up at you and hurt you, I almost blew up, in public, at my mother, who, I’m pretty sure, now feels personally responsible for Saturday, and he just… He doesn’t suffer at all.”
“Well, I’m not so sure. Shawn looked ready to do some serious damage after he found out.”
Claire snorted and lifted her head to look at him. “Somehow I don’t think I’m on Shawn’s good side now. He isn’t going to fight my battles.”
“Oh, he won’t do it for you, he’ll do it because your father’s his client, and he did a tremendously stupid thing without consulting him.”
“It was pretty stupid,” Claire agreed with a sigh and then burrowed into his side again. “I wish this whole weekend didn’t happen.”
Nate sighed. “Yeah. Although… I did like you in that dress.”
He smiled when Claire let out a short, watery laugh.
“I’ll remember that.”
“Please do.”
Nate could feel himself relaxing further into the cushions. It was so easy, being back in tune with each other, that it hardly seemed real that an hour earlier he’d thought they were over.
Claire’s phone beeped in her pocket, and she whined in protest even as she was pulling it out.
“A text from Lori. She’s covering for me for now.” She sighed, tapping an answer on the phone. “I should go back soon, though.”
Nate’s arm tightened around her for a second before he relaxed his grip. It was stupid. Of course she had to go. He had work to do as well.
“I don’t want to leave,” she mumbled against his neck, voicing his thoughts out loud.
“What about dinner tonight, huh?” he suggested before rubbing his cheek over the top of her head. “We could go out or order in, whatever you want.”
She pulled back and sat up. “Great. Come over to my place? I have enough of going out for now.”
“Sure.” He leaned in for another kiss. “It’s a date.”
He came so close to losing Claire for good, but now that he had her back? He was never letting go.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Claire stared at herself in the mirror and wondered if it was such a good idea after all. She almost managed to talk herself out of it and into changing, but then the intercom buzzed.
“Too late,” she muttered to herself, running her hands over her hips for the hundredth time.
As she waited for Nate to come up, she threw one last look around. She had wasted too much time overthinking the dress instead of cleaning, but it wasn’t bad.
The knock on the door made her heart speed up, and she shook her head at herself. Don’t back away now, Dowson.
She opened the door and leaned against it. “Hello, there.”
Nate’s stunned expression was a good enough sign, but since she used most of her courage earlier in the day as she ran like a crazy person to see him, now she felt like she had to explain herself.
“You said you liked the dress, so I thought we could have a do-over.” She licked her lower lip. “Pretend like we’re just coming back from the party?”
“Damn, you’re just…”
Whatever Nate was about to say, he abandoned it to push her back into the apartment, close the door, and pull her close as he leaned against it.
“Too hot for your own good,” she thought she heard him say, but she wasn’t sure since his hands were everywhere, and he was kissing down her neck, rubbing his stubble against her sensitive skin, and—
“Oh, fuck.”
He reversed their position, and now she was the one against the door. He cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over the edges of the dress. “As much as I do enjoy seeing you in that dress,” he whispered, pulling back a bit to look down at her, “I’m going to enjoy getting you out of it more. But first…”
She threw her head back when he dropped to his knees. God, yes.
Claire expected him to get right into it, but he didn’t. He circled her ankles with his fingers before slowly moving his hands up. She tried to make him go faster, widening her stance and pushing her hips forward, but he just shook his head when she looked down.
“Patience,” he told her with a smirk as he ran his fingertips over the back of her knees, making her legs buckle. She didn’t even know she was so sensitive there, damn it.
Finally, finally, he brought one hand up between her thighs, pulling her dress up. Claire inhaled sharply when he ran his thumb over her panties, then she moaned when he rubbed it over her clit.
“Come on,” she pleaded as she pushed back against his touch, trying to chase the pleasure, but he withdrew his hand.
She was just about to protest when he grabbed her panties and pulled them down and off of her. She shivered. She was naked from the waist down, exposed to the man in front of her who didn’t even take off his jacket. And who looked at her like he wanted to devour her but wasn’t sure where to start.
“Open up, darling,” he said, close enough to where she wanted him that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.
She spread her legs wider and he smiled at her one more time before leaning in and fitting his tongue right between her folds. She moaned, clasping her fingers harder over the material of her dress. The hot, slick moves of his tongue built up her pleasure, taking her higher and higher. Whenever she was almost there, he would pull back to lick over the outer sides of her labia, only to seek out her clit once again when she settled a bit, and to push her close to the edge one more time.
When he finally let her come, her thighs shook so hard he had to grab her hips so she wouldn’t fall. The pleasure seemed to pulse inside her in time with her fast heartbeat, slowly falling into the background and wearing off as her breathing went back to normal.
He brushed his nose back and forth against the skin right under her stomach, and she felt like bursting into tears.
“Come here,” she told him, tugging at his neck and pulling him into a kiss when he rose to his feet. She could taste herself on his tongue, but he was there, too—umpteenth coffee of the day, the sweet aftertaste of the cherry gum he sometimes liked to chew, and whatever else it was to make kissing him unlike anything else she’d experienced.
And she’d almost lost him. That thought still punched the breath out of her—the possibility of not having him in her life and the responsibility of being the one who almost drove him away.
I love you, she wanted to say, but pushed it back for another time. They had this for now—being back together, being close once again. Everything else might come later.
Would come later. Claire was going to make sure of that.
When he pulled back from the kiss, Nate looked at her for a long moment before brushing the hair off her face.
“I love you,” he said, and the breath caught in Claire’s throat. Maybe she could get that ‘everything else’ right away after all.
The words weren’t easy to get out, and she clutched at Nate’s sides not knowing if she was trying to keep them or herself together. Maybe both.
“I love you, too.”
Nate rested his forehead against hers and smiled in that soft way she had only seen a few times before. “Good,” he whispered. “That’s good.”
Something was trembling inside Claire’s chest, and finally the laughter spilled out of her, breathless and loud.
“Yeah, it’s pretty neat.”
EPILOGUE
A few months later
Claire stretched her legs to rest them on the coffee table as she tucked the blanket over her body. She was in her most comfy pajamas, she had a glass of wine by her side, and there was a sound of popcorn seeds going off in the microwave.
Oh, and there was also a hot guy in the kitchen who was making said popcorn so she wouldn’t have to move away from the couch.
She loved her life.
A second later, she heard a movement behind her, and in the next moment big, strong hands ran along her shoulders, back and forth, massaging lightly, before slipping down.
Nate cupped her breasts through her pajama top. “Hello there.”
She snorted, but reached up to catch one of his hands in hers. She intended to kiss his fingers, maybe tease him a little.
The microwave beeped loudly to let them know it was done. Nate grumbled right above her head but pulled back and headed to the kitchen.
“Did you decide what we’re going to watch?” he asked.
They were having a movie night and pretending it wasn’t also the election night during which her father might win himself a Senate seat.
Claire couldn’t care less. She hadn’t spoken to her father since the Police Commissioner’s Ball, and as far as she was concerned, their relationship was over. She hadn’t gone to the media, she hadn’t even gone to confront him in person. She was done and, finally, she truly didn’t care about what he did or didn’t do. She wasn’t going to waste any more time on him, and she definitely wasn’t going to watch the election coverage.
“Here,” Nate said, handing her the big bowl of popcorn before sitting down next to her and putting his arm on the top of the cushion behind her head.
She burrowed closer to him and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Well, I heard you say the other day that it’s been eternity since you’ve last watched The Fellowship of the Ring.”
“Oh, God, I love you.”
Nate almost upended the bowl on his
lap in his haste to grab the remote.
Claire looked up at him, watching his big smile that made him look ten years younger. “I love you, too,” she said. It was easy these days, an everyday thing. For months now, she hadn’t felt as if she was risking anything saying those words.
Nate kissed her on the side of her head, and she smiled. Nowhere in the world she felt as safe as right there.
THE END
If you want to read the next books in the series, click here to go to my website: www.allydecker.com for all the links.
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ABOUT ALLY
I’m a writer who fell in love with New York City…
So now I write books about love in New York City.
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Copyright 2017 Ally Decker
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.
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