4
Nathan kept his hand on my back as we maneuvered our way through the club and out the door. It was chilly outside, but the warmth in my cheeks combined with the warmth between my legs made it seem sweltering.
Nathan flagged down one of the taxis waiting to pick up drunk club kids. He opened the door and gestured for me to go first, then slid in next to me. Once we were both seated, his hand wandered from my back to my thigh. His fingers were mere inches away from touching me in an entirely inappropriate way, considering we were in the backseat of a car.
"Address?" the taxi driver grunted.
Nathan lifted an eyebrow at me, questioning.
"Let's go to your place," I said. "I live with my parents."
His whole body convulsed as his face contorted.
"Shit, you are legal, right?" he blurted out.
"Yes!" I was torn between laughing and frowning. "They're just… overprotective. I live in the basement suite, anyway. It's not like I'm still sleeping in the same bed I did as a little girl."
"Fuck, you scared me for a minute." His eyes were still wide, his face pale.
I did have to laugh now. "You look like you swallowed a frog."
He ran a hand over his face and peeked at me through his fingers. "I was three seconds away from jumping out of this taxi, you know that?"
"It's not moving yet." I waved my hand in the air dismissively. "You would have been fine."
He snorted. "Then I guess we're going to my place."
"Address?" the taxi driver said again, louder and more impatient.
Nathan leaned forward to give the driver directions, then sat back down. His hand immediately returned to my thigh.
"So what do your overprotective parents think about you staying out this late?" he asked.
"It's not like that," I said. "They don't care about the day-to-day stuff. It's only—" I paused, wondering how to explain without actually explaining anything. "My job pays more than minimum wage, but not a whole lot more. My mom and dad don't want me living in a cheap rat trap." That was as good of an excuse as any, and it was true. "They used to rent out their renovated basement apartment but now I'm living there until I save up enough to get something nice." And until I could convince them to cut the apron strings.
As I spoke, Nathan's hand squeezed and massaged my thigh. It was hard to concentrate with his fingers so tantalizingly close to the seam of my jeans. I mourned not wearing a skirt. I might have already had his hands on my skin by now.
Then again, I had a feeling once his hands touched my bare skin, I'd spontaneously combust, and I didn't want to blow up the poor taxi driver's car.
We quickly reached what I assumed to be Nathan's apartment. It was a multi-story building, but it didn't look as fancy as I would have expected from a rich rock star. No marble pillars, no valets waiting outside to park resident's vehicles. Just a plain concrete and brick facade. It had that sort of grungy feel that older buildings tended to have.
"You live here?" I asked.
"Not all that impressive, right?" he replied. "I know, I'm a rock star, I should be living like a king."
"I live in a basement," I reminded him. "Anything is a step up from that."
Nathan removed his hand from my thigh and entwined our fingers. That shivery feeling took hold of me again. His palm was warm.
He handed a wad of bills to the driver and we stepped out of the taxi. As we waited for the elevator, Nathan put his hand back around my waist, tugging me close. He brought his lips to my ear.
"It might not look like much, but I've got the whole top floor to myself," he said. I felt his lips curve into a smile. "No neighbors to complain about the noise."
My insides clenched at his words. I'd known when we'd left the club where things were heading, but now, with his hand on my hip and the phantom touch of his lips on my ear, my mind and body finally caught up to each other.
I was really doing this, wasn't I? We'd flirted and we'd danced, but up until now I didn't think my brain had really been paying attention to what was happening. I was just having fun with Nathan, the creeper guy from the hospital.
But he wasn't just some guy I'd run into. This guy was gorgeous. He was rich. He was famous. He was a freaking rock star.
