Page 95 of Secrets in Love
Before I could chastise him or even turn off the ignition, he opened the door, pulling me to my feet and onto his still-warm lips. “Evie, baby, I love you so much.”
His body pressed against mine, the warmth welcoming as he ground into me against the car door. I stepped back, breaking the kiss, and tried to focus on the matter at hand and not the bulge in his shorts visible from space. “Nate, I…”Just say it. Say I love you too!“I…I…” With every stutter, hope inflated Nate’s chest. His smile spread. He was waiting, wanting to hear those three little words. “I…need to know what you said yes to. Does yes mean you’re staying in New York? For good?”
I swear I heard that bubble of hope pop. His lips quivered, but the smile remained, though the light that shone so brightly in his eyes had noticeably dulled.
“Yes, Evie. That’s exactly what I meant. I love you, and I know you have reservations about coming home, maybe even some over my trustworthiness. So, if this is what it takes to show you that I’m serious, that Nate the Slut is dead and buried and that I’m dedicated to you, then I’m willing to do it. Home isn’t home if you’re not there.”
I was lost for words and feared my goofy laugh and doofus expression bore an uncanny resemblance to Cletus, the slack-jawed yokel, one of my favorite characters onTheSimpsons. “Jesus Christ, Nate, are you for real? That’s a really beautiful thing to say. I’m kind of…I dunno what to do. I feel utterly unequipped to respond appropriately.”
Nate dropped his head to my neck and nuzzled. “Just tell me what you feel, Gidge.”
What do I feel? The ceasefire in my brain seemed over. The head honchos, the lonely, cranky, moody, virgin spinster full of fear department—the LCMVSFF—was under attack by the lustfulSexandtheCitycrew. The latter demanded I climb Nate like a pole and slip on down, while the bitter bunch deemed Nate’s affections worthy of an overly cautious response. I chose somewhere in the middle.
“I don’t know how to express myself with words, a cruel irony since I claim to be a writer. But Icanshow you. Take me inside.”
The speed at which Nate had his hands skimming the lines of my thighs, gripping my ass, and wrapping my legs around his waist was nothing short of freakish but welcomed. My body ached for relief. How could I keep craving this man more and more? Now that he was staying, could this last? Would it fade?
“Back to me, Gidge,” he demanded as he buried his chilly face in my neck, nipping at my neck. “I can hear you thinking. Everything is good.Weare good.” I clung even tighter as his lips trailed toward my ear, then back down to my lips. That was where he froze. “Gidge, are those roller skates in the car? Oh my God, can I please do you while you wear them?”
“Yes! But not now. No time!” He carried me inside, and more belly laughs were expelled as I worked on untying the knot on his shorts’ drawstring. “Why is this knot so tight?”
“My ass kept hanging out of my shorts when I made the bed. I think I’ve dropped a couple of pounds with all the pleasure I’ve been delivering. Nate the Great is fading to a shadow.”
“Okay, if I need to stop thinking, you must stop talking.”
We’d only made it through the expansive entryway when Nate paused. “Love these sunglasses, by the way.” He laid me on the soft, silk rug. “The sweater too. You’re so sexy, Eves.” Said sweater was yanked over my head, my skirt hitched to my waist, while my tights were torn from my body with a grunt that had me begging.
An annoyingly simple flick of his wrist undid the knot I struggled with, and he dropped his shorts and crawled between my legs. “No bra. I likey. Let’s get rid of these silly knickers too.”
Nate leaned down, kissed the lace of my briefs, and captured them between his teeth. His hair tickled my skin as he slid them down, revealing my wet and ready sex.
Soft, sensual silk caressed my bare back as Nate latched onto my breast and licked my nipple. “God, it’s like bonking on a cloud,” I sighed. Then I remembered why. “Shit, shit, shit. Nate, get off me. This rug is an Alexander McQueen. Jocie was obsessed with it and Googled where to get one. It costs, like, fourteen thousand dollars. We cannot fuck on this rug!” I wriggled to free myself, but Nate grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.
“Like hell we can’t. You’re not McQueen, but you aremyqueen.” He winked as I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh. “You deserve the best, and I’m the guy to give it to you…while in rented accommodation I could never afford.”
With a growl, I was impaled. “So damn wet.” Soft, sandy hair tickled my nose, and he collapsed to the crook of my neck and paused. “Just gimme a minute. This pussy is so perfect. If I move, I’ll blow.”
After defiling meandthe rug, Nate carried me to bed and served me yet another orgasm or three with his tongue before we collapsed into a light coma.
Unseasonably early snow thumping against the window woke only me. As he slept, I studied, memorizing the light flaring of his nostrils on exhale, their pinch together on inhale. His eyelashes fluttered and his lip twitched when I would teasingly blow into his face, and he cutely scratched his belly and mumbled as he rolled to his side to escape it.
Nate was so beautiful, and I was so in love it hurt to breathe. I treasured many things about him and wanted to convey them but couldn’t voice it. “Maybe I can write them,” I whispered. I watched his surf-tanned back expand in and out, kissed his shoulder, and crept from bed, slipping on his green-and-gold hoodie, and snuggling beside the fire.
Should it be a letter? A poem?I looked to my left.A PowerPoint presentation? I do have my laptop.
“Just start with a list, idiot. Think of Mrs. Fraser:Pentopaper.Prettyituplater.”
Nate,
♥ I love your hair. How it flops into your eyes when you lie down, when you tie up your shoelaces, or when you read, and I really love when you blow it away from the side of your mouth.
♥ I love that we went surfing. You spent more time watching me than the waves but still managed to catch every one you wanted.
♥ I love your abs, your arms, your cockiness, your pride, your work ethic. I love that you notice your mum has different cake tins for different flavors and that you work so hard to maintain and build on the traditions your dad established.
♥ I love that you cherish our childhood so much that you have my hanky and our photo in your pocket.
♥ I love how you take care of everybody, how you always say sorry when you fart, how you play with Iris and talk to her like the little mini adult she is instead of an idiot like a lot of people do.
