“Your turn,” he said.
He wanted me to talk about myself. To confide in him things that scared me. But in that moment, I was consumed by only one.
My throat constricted around the words, but I couldn’t hold them back. “I hate knowing her name,” I blurted. “I hate knowing you shared a home with her, I hate knowing what she was to you, I hate wondering who she is and where she is now, if you work out at the same gym, and if you pass each other in the grocery store. I’m scared there might be some part of you that’s still in love with her.”
There was a razor-sharp gleam in Nicks’ eyes. “Why does that scare you?”
“Because I’m afraid one day you’re going to realize that I’m notthe person you want to be with!” The confession rushed out of me, taking all my breath with it. I forced myself to hold his gaze. It was only one small truth, and maybe not the one he’d been looking for, but in that moment, it felt like the only one that mattered.
He reached for me, taking my face in his hand, his thumb stroking away a tear as he pressed his forehead to mine.
“Your turn,” I whispered. “What scares you?”
I felt his brow crease as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were warm, his tongue cool and hoppy from the beer.
He reached for my bottle and set it on the table beside his. The leather creaked as he pulled me onto his lap, our kisses becoming deep and greedy. I did want all of him, even the honest and scary parts, but this was the part of him I needed right now.
He wrapped my legs around his waist as he stood, every part of us tangled together as he carried me down the hall to his room and let me down slowly, a soft, controlled fall onto his bed in the dark. His mouth took probing passes at mine, his arms keeping just enough distance between us for me to work off his shirt and pull it over his head. I dug my nails into his shoulders, wanting more of him, my hips rising, seeking him out.
“Tell me something that scares you,” he murmured when we were finished.
His bedroom was a dark cocoon. I wasn’t even sure what time it was. Only that I was hungry and spent.
I curled into his side, my smile wide against his damp skin. In that moment, there was only one thought that truly terrified me. “It might be too late to order a pizza.”
His laughter was warm in my hair. He kissed the top of my head. “I’m a little afraid of that, too.”
CHAPTER 10
The bell on the toaster chimed the next morning, and the smell of waffles wafted from the kitchen, which meant either Delia was awake and fixing herself breakfast or Vero was doing it for her.
I sat up and reached for my rumpled yoga pants, turning them right side out before dragging them on. I had them halfway up my thighs and froze as I registered the deep voice coming from the kitchen. “Two waffles, coming up.”
“With syrup?” Delia asked in a voice that was unusually sweet for her, given the early hour.
“Know where your mom keeps it?” Nick asked.
“In the pantry.”
“Roger that. What time does she usually take you to school?”
“Eight o’clock,” Delia answered around a mouthful of food.
“How about we let her sleep and I’ll drive you?” I peeked into the kitchen, relieved to find him fully dressed, his shoulder holster framing his tie and his neatly tucked dress shirt.
“I’m not going to school today,” my daughter said matter-of-factly.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I got sup’ended for beating up a boy,” she explained. Nick frowned to hide his amusement as he drizzled syrup on her waffles. “But Vero and Daddy said it’s okay because Cooper wouldn’t stop pulling my hair. I told the teacher, but she didn’t believe me.” Delia cast curious glances at the badge on Nick’s belt. “Do you think I should have gotten sup’ended?”
He thought about that as he poured himself some coffee. “I think if you told the teacher someone was hurting you, then your teacher should have listened. What did your mom say?”
“She took me out for ice cream.”
Nick’s mouth curved into a smile. He hid it behind his coffee mug when he spotted me leaning on the doorframe behind her.
“Good morning,” I said, taking his mug as he held it out to me. I closed my eyes, savoring the fact that he knew just how I liked my coffee. It was almost as good as his preferred method for waking me up. He knew exactly how I liked that, too. “What are you doing here?” I asked cryptically enough that Delia wouldn’t grasp the subtext. Nick had driven me home five hours ago and had ended up staying the night.
