Page 53 of Grinch Girl

In fact…I took a step from the cars to the building. “You said you wanted to spend time alone with me.” I opened my eyes comically large and took a long look around the desolate parking area and black windows of the building. “I think we’re alonenow.”

His eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped an inch before he recovered and shook his head. “That is not why I was waiting out here, Jane,” he said firmly.

My quick strides ate up pavement until I reached the apartment building. But I didn’t go to my door. I went to his. “I know.”

I waited for him by the door as he shifted his weight and clenched and unclenched his fists. Oh no. Had I read this all wrong? “Sorry. I can just go home,” I offered quietly.

“No!” he said quickly, finally walking toward me. I noted the one pink ear tip. “You just shocked the hell out of me, that’s all.” He grabbed my hand and put it against the pulse point at his neck. “My heart’s about to pound out of my chest.”

I could feel it slamming in my palm—the hard, fast beat. I wanted to purr. I’d done that. Just the thought of being with me had spiked his heart rate. My gaze went to his mouth.

Imagine what the actual me could do.

He had almost no furniture in his rental. There was a big, ugly kitchen table I was sure had come with the unit. His laptop sat open on it, surrounded by notebooks with scribbled lists in various handwriting, some familiar to me as my own. He and Bella must do their work at that table.

A large recliner and flat-screen TV were the only two things in the living room. The bedroom door was ajar. A king-size mattress lay on the floor, covered by a thick navy comforter.

“I didn’t plan to entertain while I was here,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “This place looks like it belongs to a twenty-two-year-old meathead who didn’t want to move out of the frat house.”

“I bet it looks exactly like Tripp’s place,” I agreed, snorting. “I doubt your apartment in Chicago looks very different,” I teased.

“You’ll see when you visit,” he retorted.

I didn’t know what to do with that, so I just made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat and wandered toward the kitchen. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?” Nate asked.

I hadn’t intended on that when I’d invited myself over. But these transitional moments just defeated me. I had no idea how to go from my parking lot bravado to that mattress on floor. “Sure.”

He pulled a bottle from the corner of the kitchen and uncorked it. It was the nicest Merlot that Greta carried in the shop. “Fancy.”

He gave me a smile that was part embarrassed and part sardonic. “I got a bottle last week and enjoyed it, so I bought another. As much as I’d love to be a brewski kind of guy, I’m afraid I actually prefer wine.”

I took a long sip from the glass he offered, letting the red swirl in my mouth and savoring it with an appreciative hum.

He watched me with a hawk’s eyes. “Good?”

I tilted my neck back and swallowed. “Very.”

He was right in front of me before I could even straighten. All of the breath in my lungs disappeared as one of his arms snaked around my back and pulled me to him. His other hand went to my nape. “I want to taste it on you.”

He kissed me before I could respond, before I could breathe, before I could think. His lips pressed against mine, as lush as I remembered. His tongue danced lightly into my mouth, and I had the distinct feeling of being tasted, like he was intently absorbing the flavor and texture of me.

He broke away to mutter “delicious,” and my insides lit up like all the Christmas lights strung over town.

Blindly, I set the wineglass on the kitchen counter and wrapped my arms around his neck, twining our bodies together. As we clung to one another in silence, I became intensely aware of the sounds around us: the refrigerator humming, the hissing of air from the heating vents, the wind against the windowpanes.

Nate said softly, “I’ve imagined you here with me a hundred times in the last week. Maybe a thousand times. And now that you’re here, I’m so delirious I don’t know what to do with you.”

Nate was nervous? The thought was like a pinprick to the balloon of anxiety in my chest, and the last bits of uneasiness began to drain away. I licked his neck and whispered in his ear. “Well, tell me what you’ve imagined.”

His laugh was harsh, and I could feel the hard pound of his pulse as I pressed my lips to his neck again. “Look around, Jane. In my mind, I’ve had you in every place imaginable.”

“Is that so?” Drawing away, I patted the kitchen counter and raised my eyebrows. “Here?”

Nate’s nostrils flared. “Definitely.”

Oh my. I suppressed a smile and just nodded sagely. “Solid choice.” I wandered over to the kitchen table and bent over suggestively to put my elbows on it. “Here?”

Nate closed his eyes. “Fuck. Yes.”

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