“I’m really not that nervous,” I tell him, even though I’m having a hard time properly meeting his eyes. I give myself a few seconds of watching the fire flicker before looking back at him. “Sometimes I find myself thinking like my father, is all. And as loud and obnoxious as I am, he somehow manages to be worse. So every time I meet someone new, it’s hard to think around the voices in my head telling me I’m disgusting and wrong.”
Nils’ hand increases the pressure on my leg, and he makes an aggrieved noise in the back of his throat.
“I’m not nervous about you, though,” I repeat, somehow managing to sound pretty nervous as I say it. He looks at me for a moment, firelight cradling half his face, upper body relaxed against the back of the couch. After a moment, his fingers lose their tension, and his thumb resumes its slow movements.
“Where do you-you get the pretty things?”
I open my mouth to reply and pause. That wasn’t the question I’d been expecting. In fact, that’s a question I’ve never once been asked before. The only time someone came close was when a man I’d been dating—sleeping with, really—had joked that he could probably buy me and my mother the same Christmas present if he picked up gift cards from La Perla. It wasn’t a relationship that lasted long.
“You…oh. Well, online, mostly. I’m too shy to go to a store in person.” I chuckle, Nils not joining in but sharing a small smile. His hand is still on my leg. I rest mine on top, hooking my pinky around one of his fingers. “But I can show you, if you want. Try not to look at the price tag on some of this. If you think home repairs are bad, you’ve never experienced an addiction to lace.”
Sitting up to grab my phone from the coffee table, I hum and pull up my most recent order from a few months ago. It doesn’t make much sense for a single man to be buying fancy lingerie without someone to show it off to, but it’s been a long time since there was anyone but me to appreciate it, and it makes me happy. Nils waits patiently, hand sliding up my leg a little bitas though looking for new area to explore. If I weren’t wearing jeans, I could model what I bought in person.
“All right, there you go.” I clear my throat, handing Nils my phone and feeling disappointed when that means he stops touching me.
It doesn’t last long, though, because he scoots a little closer, elbow resting on the back of the couch near my head. He’s leaning toward me a bit, bracketing me in against the armrest. Something a little bit like excitement and a lot like desire burns low in my stomach.
Nils scrolls through my previous orders slowly, stopping and giving each photograph the kind of attention that makes my skin itch with discomfort. As though he can sense it, his fingers find the back of my neck and rest there, thumb pressing gently behind my ear. When he comes to the lime-green lace briefs, he raises his eyes to mine and smiles in recognition. Scrolling on, he circles his thumb idly on my skin as I hum and try not to watch the screen of my phone too closely.
When he reaches the end, he doesn’t hand the phone back. Instead, he stops on one of the jocks, turquoise blue and seafoam green. He thumbs through the photographs slowly enough to make me blush, like they’re pictures of me and not a model. Tapping a thumb on the side of the phone, he angles it my direction as though to make sure I can see it. Dark eyes meet mine, and I can feel the blush burn the tips of my ears.
“Like that one?” I ask lightly.
“Yes,” he replies.
I wish I had a pillow to pull over my lap. I like that he likesthat one. I like the thought of him liking it on me. Puffing out my cheeks with a breath of air, I close my eyes and lean my head back, dislodging his hand slightly.
“Yikes.” For once, I can’t think of anything else to say. After giving myself a second in the dark to compose myself, I open my eyes and turn my head to the side to look at him. He’s already watching me. “Since we’re on the topic, sort of, I should tell you that it’s been a little bit for me. I’ll still get up-to-date testing, but, yeah, it’s been a little while, and the last time I did it, I was clean.”
I trail off awkwardly. There were many times in the past where this particular base was not covered before the game was played. It’s a miracle I never did catch anything.
“Clean?” Nils repeats, frowning.
“Yeah. Of…diseases.”
“Ah.” Sliding his hand around the back of my neck, he cups my nape and resumes brushing his thumb along my hairline. “I’ve never.”
I nod. He’d told me he’d never dated before, but that doesn’t mean he’s never done anything else. Even so, I’d had a feeling. I’m glad to have it confirmed, though, and try not to think too hard about what that means for us. All of his firsts will be with me.
“That’s okay. That’s why it’s important that I get tested and show you that everything is fine.”
Nils smiles gently, still rubbing my neck. Smiling back, I lean forward to kiss him, pausing when I’m close enough to his face for him to understand my intention, but far enough awaythat he could back off if he wanted to. Lips still curved into a delicate smile, he closes the distance and kisses me once on the mouth. There’s not much to it, but a shiver of pleasure tickles its way down my spine anyway. I’ve wanted Nils for so long, the chance to be with him feels fragile and precious. It feels monumental.
Nils tugs me forward by the nape of my neck and presses his lips to my forehead, too. I close my eyes. I want this to work so badly.
Nils is on his knees, elbow-deep in the access panel that leads to the engine on theDrifter. It is, to be fair, not meant to be a sexy pose. But given that I’m behind him and meant to be scrubbing the deck—also on my hands and knees, but unfortunately with nobody behind me to appreciate it—I have an incredibly distracting view of his backside. Which, lovely as it is on any given day, is impossible to drag my eyes from when he’s in this position. Those jeans certainly know how to present an asset, that’s for sure.
Blowing out a hard breath, I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead and continue scrubbing. I’m not mechanically inclined, and so my repair services are nil. I can, however, clean. So, on days like today when the weather is fine, the boat is docked, and the three of us catch up on maintenance, this is what I do. It’s not hard work mentally, but my arms and back ache, and I’m sweating despite the cooler temperature of the day. Lazy snowflakes are drifting from a slate sky outside. There’s noforecast for heavy snowfall, but this winter hasn’t been one to play by the rules, so I’m not holding my breath.
Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind another monster storm. I wouldn’t mind my heat going out or my leaky roof falling in. I wouldn’t mind an entire season spent cozied up at Nils’ house, safe and warm. Glancing over at him, I watch the movement of his thighs as he adjusts his position and reaches for something inside the engine, losing the lyrics of the song I was singing. Ugh. His butt is frying my brain.
“Oli?”
I startle, looking up and back over my shoulder. Shiloh crouches down next to me, and I sit back on my heels, grateful for a chance to stop. We clean the boat during the high season, but we don’t do a full deep clean like this each time. My elbows are sobbing in pain.
“Sorry, Shiloh, what was that? I was distracted. By cleaning. I was distracted by the cleaning.” And Nils’ lower back, exposed each time he moves his arm in a way that pulls his jacket up. I’ll just keep that to myself, though. Inside thoughts.
“Want a break?” he asks. Gratefully, I drop the sponge and shake out my wrist. When he offers a hand to help me up, I take it, neither of us caring that we’re both filthy.
