His lips parted as if he was about to say something, but he drew only half a breath, the air catching in his throat when his eyes met mine. Whatever he thought to say, he must have thought better of it, because instead of speaking, he did the same thing he’d done in the kitchen a lifetime ago: Put his hands on my face-gently this time-and kissed me, sitting up to meet me halfway before we both fell slowly back to the bed.
This kiss had every bit of the breathless fervor from earlier, but none of the anger. No violence, no demands.
It was his turn to change position, easing me onto my back without breaking the kiss once. When his torso shifted slightly, I didn’t have to look to know what he was reaching for. The familiar sound of the nightstand drawer made me shiver with anticipation.
Only then did he break the kiss, our eyes meeting as he tore the wrapper with his teeth. Whatever had happened downstairs, we’d deal with eventually. As far as this moment was concerned, we were on the same page, and that was good enough for me.
Sitting up, he quickly rolled the condom on and put some lube on it. Then, he guided his cock to me. I bit my lip, trying not to shake with anticipation.
“Oh, my God,” he said as he slid into me. Even more than the physical sensations, it was his voice that made my breath catch and, for a moment, I didn’t understand why. Then I realized it was the first thing either of us had said since I’d kissed him into silence. The last thing out of either of our mouths had been angry screaming. The next thing out of his was a breathy whisper of arousal.
Our eyes met and he came down to kiss me as his hips found a steady, fluid rhythm. How long we moved like that, I couldn’t say. All I knew was how incredible he felt and tasted and smelled and how the hell is this the same person I was fighting with?
“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned. “You feel so good…”
“So do you,” I whispered, holding on to his shoulders as he moved deeper inside me. He did feel good. He felt incredible. Better than he ever had before.
I touched his face and he turned to kiss my palm. It feels this good because you’re still here.
“Oh, God,” he said, grimacing and shuddering. “Fuck, I’m so close, but I don’t want-” He gasped. “I don’t want to before you do.”
My fingers dug into his shoulders and my back arched off the bed. “Just keep…” My eyes rolled back and electricity surged up my spine. “Just like that…”
He thrust harder, groaning as another shudder drove him even deeper. “Oh, God, Zach, I can’t-”
The entire world went white. I don’t know if either of us made a sound because the only thing that existed was the powerful orgasm that completely consumed every shred of my awareness. A low vibration worked its way into my consciousness-a voice, though I couldn’t be sure whose-and as the rest of the universe pieced itself back together around me, I realized he had slowed down. His rapid thrusts had been reduced to long, lazy strokes, each slower than the last until his hips only moved in a subtle, slurred imitation of everything he’d done before.
He raised his head and we looked at each other, but still neither of us spoke. After a moment, he sank down to me, resting his head on my shoulders as I wrapped my arms around him. I ran my fingers through his hair, simply listening to him breathe for the longest time.
I’m still here, every breath said. I’m not going anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-three
After Nathan got rid of the condom and we’d settled into bed, we faced each other, but didn’t speak right away. His hand rested on my face, his thumb gently stroking just below my cheekbone. Both the anger and lust in his eyes had quieted, replaced by confusion. Or sadness. Maybe both.
Finally, he broke the silence.
“Zach, I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered. “I overreacted.”
I put my hand over his. “Don’t sweat it. I shouldn’t have waited so late to call.”
He shrugged as much as he could with one shoulder beneath him, but didn’t look at me. “Maybe, but I had no reason to think you’d be doing something like…” He trailed off.
“Like what?” I knew the answer. I wanted him to say it.
He took a breath. “Like something Jake would do.”
“Nathan, you should know by now-”
“I know, I know,” he said. “And you’re absolutely right. I’m just, you know, after everything I-we-went through with him, it’s hard to trust-” He paused. “Anyone.”
Anyone, or me? But I didn’t go there. “I understand. He did a number on me, too, but we have to make this about us and now, not him and then.”
He looked away for a moment before again meeting my eyes. “You know where I’m coming from, though, right?”
I nodded. “Even still, if we’re going to make this work, it has to be about us, or nothing at all.” I ran my fingers through his hair, just needing to touch him, as if I needed something more tangible than sight to assure me he was really here. “If it has anything to do with him, then it’s going to blow up in our faces sooner or later.” Nerves twisted my gut into knots. I felt like I was giving him an ultimatum and in a way, I was. We can’t exist without trust. Trust me, or walk away.
Watching him silently, I swallowed hard. He was quiet for a moment, his expression turning to one of intense concentration. Please don’t walk away, Nathan. I wanted to hate myself for that unspoken plea, for the nervousness that bordered on panic. This isn’t supposed to be permanent. I shouldn’t be so afraid of losing you.
When he finally spoke, he whispered, “You’re absolutely right.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, his thumb moving back and forth on my arm, his touch giving me permission to release my breath. He went on, “It’s easier said than done, of course, and it’ll take time, but you’re absolutely right.”
Before I could say anything, he leaned in and kissed me lightly. Even after he broke the brief, gentle kiss, it resonated through my nerves.
We still exist.
With the storm over and the anger quieted, adrenaline gave way to relief and before long, fatigue settled in. It was well past one in the morning, and I suddenly felt like I hadn’t slept for days.
Nathan hit the light, but as he drifted off to sleep beside me, something tightened in my chest and kept me awake. Something wasn’t right about the way things went down tonight.
This was supposed to be a fling. A rebound thing, nothing serious. But if this was just a fling, would we have fought that hard and made up just as hard?
I’d had casual relationships before, and I never fought with them. If we disagreed that much, we just went our separate ways. It wasn’t worth it. The only time fighting was worth it was when there was anything to gain-or keep-by fighting.
And if the way we’d fought and made up tonight was any indication, we both knew we had something to gain by staying.
Or something to lose by leaving.
Neither of us had had to stay. The door had been there the whole time, unlocked, unopened and unnoticed on the opposite side of the room. I could have left, but I didn’t. He could have kicked me out, but he didn’t.
What we were doing shouldn’t have been worth fighting for like that. Yet we’d fought. We’d made up. The conflict was over, but we weren’t.
Nathan stirred in his sleep and draped his arm over my waist. His skin was warm against mine, his presence beside me reassuring. His breath drifted across the side of my neck and I exhaled, my entire body finally relaxing.
I shouldn’t want you this much, but thank God you’re still here.
Chapter Twenty-four
I was knee-deep in invoices and receipts when Dylan leaned in through the office door.