“Do you want me to?” Her voice is small, but those eyes never leave my face. I can feel them boring into the side of my skull, waiting. Nervous.
“Baby,” I grab her hand, kissing her knuckles, never taking my eyes off the road. “It’s your choice. I meant what I said this morning. It may seem like I just said all of it in the heat of the moment, but I didn’t. I’ve had months to process my feelings foryou and to come to terms with my own insecurities, so when I say I want everything with you, I mean it.”
She’s quiet for what seems an eternity. Slowing my breathing, I focus on the feel of her palm against mine. In time, my pulse seems to pace with the idle swipe of her thumb over my knuckles, the sensation so soothing, I wonder if she’s about to blow up my world with her words.
“Then I’m good. We can go home.”
Without another word, we take off down the road. The tires fly over the pavement as if I’m competing in a NASCAR race, and home is the finish line. Traffic seems to be against me, though. Traffic that may be common on Sundays, but I wouldn’t know since I stay at my house, and more often than not lately, I’ve been home.
Home.
Cole County, not Montana.
When did I stop thinking of Montana as home, too?
The obvious turning point won’t present itself to me. There was before, and now. That’s all I know.
Betty’s fingers squeeze mine again as I turn onto the dirt portion of my drive. I hope she’ll be comfortable alone here with me. She’d had the buffer of her best friend before, and I have no doubt River would chop off my balls if I’d hurt Betty again.
Throwing the truck in park, I’m moving slower than I’d like, edging around the hood to open her door. Taking my hand, she slides out of the cab, once again linking our fingers. It’s indescribable how her touch undoes me.
It’s a cross between an ongoing storm raging inside me that her light can silence, while simultaneously feeling as though I’d been dead, and she brought me back to life. It’s a conundrum I can’t figure out. How can both be true at the same time? How can Betty be everything I never knew I needed and all the thingsI stopped wanting when I found comfort in the mundane with my previous marriage?
“Let’s get a shower, I’ll order us some food, and we can just have a lazy day, okay?”
She pulls me to a stop, her hands on either side of my torso. “If you have work to do, you don’t have to entertain me. I have a book with me.”
“How did you know I work on Sundays?”
Her head tilts as if confused by my question. Our bodies drift closer, her front flush against mine. “I’ve been in love with you for twenty years. I know everything you try to hide, because I hid so I could know you without anyone noticing.” Her words overpower me, emotions coursing through me so rapidly I can’t parse them. Pressing up onto her toes, her lips brush mine before gripping my hand and leading me upstairs. She releases me as we come to her bedroom door. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” she whispers before slipping inside.
Racing into my bedroom, I grab an armful of clothes before elbowing back into hers. “What are you doing?” she gasps, her sweaty t-shirt discarded on the floor and her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her leggings.
Sweat darkens her hot pink sports bra, my tongue flicking across my lower lip, wanting to lick every drop off her skin.
“Putting my stuff in the drawers,” I answer, willing my cock to relax. I should feed her before I fuck her again.
“Uh, why? You have a room.”
My head bows as I lean over the dresser, my clothes a haphazard pile in front of me that will make me twitch in annoyance later.
“Because, Andromeda,” I say slowly, turning to face her so she knows I mean every word. Her lips part, tracking my expression, but she doesn’t come to me. “The only memories in this room are with you.”
Chapter 33
Betty
Two days locked away with Nash in his Montana mansion was just as blissful as our week together. More painful, too. Our mornings kicked off with the gym, where he pushed me past limits I didn’t know I had, followed by working side by side on his couch.
Hunt had called him to come out to see a client, but he told his best friend to handle it. It wasn’t our first argument, but definitely a point of contention for a solid twenty minutes before he hugged me into his chest and explained himself. It was the first time he had really opened up about his marriage and how they had become two ships passing in the night. There was no desire to go out of his way to spend quality time. If it happened, it happened. It was that simple.
He didn’t want that for us. Hearing his fears and desires laid out in that way made me see him in a different light. Nash had always been a hard worker. He’d always put business and family first, but never his wife. There’s no way I would have known that,but now I do, and I can understand why he is so adamant not to do that to us. It also explains his actions so much more when he disappeared for a few weeks. It doesn’t excuse his actions, but at least I can let go of that pain.
But my own insecurities still linger. I don’t want to be the one who holds him back or forces him into a lifestyle he hasn’t chosen for himself.
It’s been about an hour since he dropped me at my apartment, promising he’d be back after visiting his parents. His mom was finally home from the hospital. He’d asked me to come, intent on us spending every second together. But I saw the weariness in his stare. The worry and the preparation needed to steel himself for whatever he might find. I thought it might be best for him to spend time alone with his family.
But mostly, I’m not sure I’m ready for our families to know about us.
