Page 100 of Carbon Dating
‘You don’t have to say anything.’ Although he wished she would.
Couldn’t she see him dying on a low wall in the middle of a tiny English village?
‘You tell me that…’ Her voice was hoarse, and her throat bobbed in a swallow. ‘You tell me that here?’
Nate frowned; she’d chosen the place where she’d feel most comfortable.
‘Come with me.’
Laurel grabbed his hand and took off, at pace, up the road to her flat. She fumbled with the key as he stood beside her, until she finally unlocked the front door to the street. She ran up the stairs and unlocked the door there, and he followed. What was happening?
He took in her flat. This wasn’t Little Willow Farm Laurel, this was all black wood and silver highlights, industrial and futuristic. It was soLaurel, to fit herself into what she thought people wanted from her, what people needed. She wasn’t the cute, sweet little farm girl with shabby chic, rustic, mismatched chairs. She was cool and granite, sleek and amazing. Her TV was screwed to the wall, with books stacked on floating shelves either side. The black curtains twitched lightly in the breeze from the open window. A hallway led off from the main room, down to where he presumed her bedroom was.
‘Say it again,’ she demanded. ‘Please.’
The last was a whisper.
‘It’s been ever since you rushed me out of the cafe and let me into your office, let me into your life.’ Nate stepped forward, once, twice. Laurel’s breath hitched. ‘It’s more than wanting to share every little moment of every day with you. You’re under my skin, Laurel, and I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.’
Nate watched her as she weighed everything in her mind. He could see it play out on her face. The confusion, a flash of sadness, then fear, cold and bright.
‘Can I kiss you?’ He was desperate to.
She looked up at him with those drowning bronze eyes and nodded.
His heart thudded in his chest as he moved forward, letting his fingers glide across her jaw, his thumb across her bottom lip. Laurel’s eyes fluttered closed as she waited for him to touch his lips to hers, but he wanted to savour it, to memorise her face, to remember this moment as the beginning of everything.
Her lips were raspberry pink, plump and ready as he slipped his hand into the hair at the back of her neck, tilting her head back. Her hands slid up his chest, gripping his shirt tightly in her fists. His breath was a puff of joy against her lips, because she was holding back, she was waiting for him. Perhaps she had always been waiting for him.
‘Nate, please,’ she breathed, and he couldn’t wait any more.
His lips touched hers, gently, softly, so he could remember that she tasted of wine and sherbet. The tender, soft pressure of his lips on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. Then, it was desperate, wet mouths against each other, as if they could never be close enough. It was beautiful, open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and she gasped when his tongue touched the softness just behind her ear.
He’d bared his soul to Laurel Fletcher, and here she was, letting him kiss her, running her hands across his chest, through his hair, pulling him close as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He nipped at her bottom lip and she groaned as he made his way down the column of her neck, dropping wet kisses in the hollow of her collarbone.
‘Yes,’ she breathed, and his heart hammered a blacksmith beat in his chest at her acceptance.
Laurel
At this exact moment in time, Doctor Nate Daley was nipping the skin at the base of her throat, drawing soft mewling noises out of her that she had never ever made before. He wanted her, all of her. He was falling,freefalling. She had already fallen. She’d fallen the moment he’d pulled her up from a cow dung covered yard. No, scratch that, it was happening again. She was falling again.
Nate kissed up her neck, tasting her, marking her skin with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. His large hands splayed across her ribs, restrained, but barely so.
‘Laurel,’ he breathed as his mouth came back to hers. He spoke her name reverently, as if in prayer.
Her shaky fingers worked at his shirt buttons as she greedily searched for his skin, slipping it over his shoulders. She pulled back from him, and she was ogling, she knew she was, but she couldn’t stop. Her hands explored his broadness, dragging a nail across his tender nipple that caused a beautiful groan. Her fingers trailed through the dusting of dark hair that started across his chest and trailed down in a tantalizing line to the top of his trousers. She pulled at the waistband, easing the button through the small hole.
Nate’s large hands circled her wrists to stop her. Oh god, had she gone too far? Had she misread this whole situation?
‘Laurel, if you don’t feel—’ A harsh swallow. ‘The same way, then I can’t. I can’t… know you and not have you. I can’t.’
Laurel’s hands cradled his face. He was beautiful, vulnerable, looking at her with worried eyes. Desperate.
‘Yes,’ she breathed, even though he hadn’t asked a question. ‘I want all of you, Nate.’
That was all he needed, because he lifted her against him, hands under her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he strode with her down the little hallway towards her bedroom. They didn’t get far because he stopped, pressed her back against the wall and let her legs slip down to the floor. Her shirt was between them so he worked at the buttons, his thighs pressed against her and oh god, she wanted him.
The shirt was discarded and he kissed greedily down her neck, pressing her against the wall, trailing his tongue over the swell of her breasts. Nate reached behind her, fiddling and pulling at her bra hook and she reached behind to help him. The bra dropped to the floor, her nipples hard and wanting, desperate for him to kiss them, lick them, bite them. He looked at her, as she had him, exploring her chest with his fingers, swirling around each sensitive – oh god, so sensitive – nipple, muttering things like ‘perfect’ and ‘oh god’ and indecipherable words meant just for him.
