Page 76 of The One Who Won’t Get Away
He said it so matter-of-factly that I almost didn’t hear the promise underneath.He would be there for me no matter what.
“Thanks,” I said, which felt inadequate.
“So what’s the plan, boss?”
I hesitated.“The therapist said three days of hell, then it gets better.”
“Then let’s start now,” he said, as if we were planning a road trip and not a total neurological overhaul.
“I don’t want to run.I’m not that energetic yet.”But I could already feel the jitters coming on.Before, I would’ve attributed to my fear of starting this super hard thing, but it wasn’t that.I hadn’t had a drink since last night, and even that had been less than what I would’ve normally had.My brain was already asking for booze.“Okay, I might be a little wired, but not bad enough to run.”
Nicks thumb brushed my hip bone.Up and down.Up and down.“Well, there are other things we can do to burn off extra energy,” he said suggestively.
He had a point.That would be a much more pleasant way to deal with my withdrawal symptoms.
Chapter 32
Nadya
IDIDN’T WAIT FOR HIMto move first.Instead, I grabbed him by the T-shirt and pulled him into a kiss.Nick didn’t hesitate to kiss me back; his lips were soft and patient, almost reverent, deliberate, but not controlling.His hands started at my waist, thumbs moving in lazy circles over the hoodie, then slid under, caressing my skin.
There was a scar there and he paused as if to acknowledge it with the way his fingertips drifted over the small dot, like he was taking inventory of every broken part.
He tugged the hoodie up then paused, eyes level with mine, giving me a chance to bail, to call this off and pretend it was never going to happen.Instead, I leaned into him, pressing my bare skin to his, and the chill of the kitchen vanished.
“Still want this?”His voice was so low I felt it more than heard it.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Good.”
He kissed me again as his hands moved with the same quiet confidence he used on everything else: no fumbling, no hesitation.He slipped the hoodie over my head, careful of my hair, and dropped it to the floor, revealing only a thin tank top underneath.No bra, because what kind of masochist would wear a bra at home?Not me.
Then his hands moved to my shoulders, then my cleavage.The fire in his eyes almost made me forget about the scars until Nick took my top off and kissed each burn reverently before smoothing his hands lower, tracing the edges of each rib like he was mapping uncharted territory.I shuddered, not from cold, but from the heat of it, and he caught the tremor in my arms.He pressed his mouth to my neck, then my jaw, then finally to the spot just beneath my ear that made me squirm.He used it, the bastard, coaxing out another shiver, then a sound I didn’t mean to make.
“Sensitive?”he murmured, lips brushing my earlobe.
