“That tracks,” Nathan said, at the same time.
Nathan and I cleaned the kitchen after dinner while Gran played with Prince in the living room. The silence should’ve felt awkward, but it didn’t. Our hands brushing as he handed me a plate to dry set my body on fire. When our eyes locked, the same fire burned in his.
When he invaded my space, my heart raced.
My knees turned to Jello when he whispered in my ear, “What time does Gran go to bed?”
His hands on my hips promised more. My hands on his chest asked for it.
We had a lot to talk about, but all I could think about was us spending the night in my bed without my grandmother finding out.
Our desire faded as we hung out with Gran, so after she went to bed, we talked.
In Vegas, we’d bonded over losing our parents young but never finished the conversation because Nathan’s lips had begged to be kissed simply by existing, and I’d gladly done so.
“I’m lucky I had Gran and Grandpa to raise me, and the Taylors were like a second family.”
“Taylor’s?”
“Emily’s family.”
He nodded. “Have you known the Sheppards forever, too?”
“Pretty much. Chris, Jamie, and Jack played football together, so we saw a lot of them.” I laughed. “As kids, Em and I followed Chris and Jamie around like puppy dogs. They hated it, but Em had a crush on Jamie.”
“Really? And now they’re married?”
“Yup. They went through hell before falling in love with each other.” I didn’t tell him the details, figuring they weren’t mine to share.
“Let me guess, you had a crush on Jack,” he said.
I savored the hint of jealousy in his voice, half wishing he’d growl again. There was something sexy about his primal response to another man touching me.
“Nah, I crushed on Chris, but if you ever tell a soul, I’ll tell everyone you have herpes.” I couldn’t threaten anything real, knowing he’d been through far more than any human should endure.
It was music to my ears when he threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve been threatened with a lot of things in my life, but that takes the cake.”
Nathan’s heated stare pinned me in place as he raised his hands and cupped my face. “I never stopped thinking about you,” was all he said before leaning in to kiss me.
He hesitated, giving me a chance to say no, but there was no way in hell that word would cross my lips.
“Kiss me.” My whisper sounded like a plea.
He did. Soft and sweet, and so full of emotion that any lingering doubt I might’ve had melted away.
“Love when you whimper like that,” he said, his lips still dangerously close to mine. “Do I still inspire the kissing scenes in your romance novel?”
My eyes flew open as I pulled away. “What?”
I’d never told anyone I was writing a rom-com.
He grinned. “You don’t remember telling me.”
“When did I tell you?” It was a stupid question. “Vegas, obviously, but when exactly?” And what else didn’t I remember?
“I’d be offended that you don’t remember telling me, but we’d had a few drinks, and you mumbled it when we came up for air.”
“Then how come you remember?” I asked.
