And he is very, very good.
He excuses himself to the bathroom. I lie here, too tired to turn and admire the staircase or his naked ass, which I imagine is flexing with each heavy step. I hear him walk upstairs, the sound of water running, and then he comes back down. When he returns, soft cotton pools on my naked, chilled skin. I reach for the garment and hold it up.
A white T-shirt. His T-shirt.
I pull it over my head, his ocean scent engulfing me. It’s hot outside but chilly in here, especially after our sweaty workout and the A/C kicking on.
He’s wearing black boxer briefs and nothing else. It’s a good look for him. His chest is wide and fit. A dusting of light hair encircles flat male nipples and dances over the bumps of his ab muscles.
Thick, muscular legs aren’t usually my preferred male attribute, but he wears those as well as the boxers. He sits next to me in a half lean, touching my body with his arm. His hand rests on my belly over the T-shirt, and he kisses my nipple, leaving an impression on the material.
“I can’t stay.” He didn’t ask, but I figure he will.
He flattens his hand on my stomach and kisses my shoulder next. “Okay.”
That was easy. Not that I expected him to be clingy. What we have is visceral and physical and has nothing to do with staying the night or cuddling. What we have is about us taking what we need from a convenient source.
I’ve learned to act on instinct and prioritize survival since I left my name behind. The rest of the fluff that comes along with “making love” is more suited for a rom-com movie than real life.
“This isn’t the only time,” he says.
I laugh at his arrogance. “Is that so?”
“That’s so.” He rests his chin on my shoulder and I steal a kiss. I can’t help myself. He smells good and looks better.
I figure he’s right. It’s futile to pretend I wouldn’t do this with him again. It was…what’s the word I’m looking for? Superb? Delectable?
Dire.
That word again. I needed him. He needed me. There’s no denying it.
“You’ve only seen the living room,” he states.
“You’re a shitty host.”
He grins. He has the most oddly handsome face. Long lashes shadow blue, blue eyes. Wavy dark blond hair cut short but long enough to grab. His crooked nose and easy, contagious smile. I notice a scar on his eyebrow and run my finger over it. So imperfectly perfect.
“Stitches?” I ask, giving in to my curiosity.
“Twelve of them.”
I wince.
“I wrecked my bike.” He gives me a cocky grin before adding, “Into someone.”
I finger the black beaded bracelet on his wrist and wonder about it. It’s out of place next to the luxury watch.
“You’re not like any billionaire I’ve met.” It’s out of my mouth before I mean to say it. His eyes spark.
“Met a lot of us, have you?”
Shit. My guard is down and causing me to blurt out things I normally wouldn’t. Not good. Time to say good night.
I move to stand but he presses me deeper into the sofa with his big body.
“La Perla isn’t cheap,” he points out. He’s referring to my lingerie. Another special purchase I couldn’t bear parting with when I fled my old life.
“It was a gift from an old boyfriend,” I lie.
Nate hums.
“I should go.”
“You’re not going anywhere without me. I promised to deliver you safely to your car, after all.”
“I could call a car to take me back to the art institute,” I inform him.
“You could. But don’t.” His sincere request stops me cold.
“Okay,” I agree. I should be reeling. Sleeping with him was careless. I gave in to my needs and took what I wanted. I haven’t allowed myself to do that in a long, long time. I’m out of practice. I can’t make myself regret it. Us having sex was as inevitable as the tide rolling out after it’s rolled in. And the possibility of seeing him was exactly why I wore my finest lingerie.
God, that was great sex.
Memories of what we did together run over me like silk. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid, a longer while since I’ve been laid so thoroughly. His mouth on me, bringing me to orgasm with his tongue, was decadent.
I could stand more of that in the near future.
He tasted good too. I haven’t gone down on anyone since…wow, an even longer time than the sex. That typically doesn’t appeal, but I was compelled to bring him to his knees after he weakened mine.
Don’t think I didn’t notice he wouldn’t let me be on top. I’ve never had more fun battling for control.
“Let’s play a game.” He sits up.
“Thought we just did.”
“I want to know more about you. You don’t want to tell me. Why?”
“Because it’s none of your business,” I inform him with a breezy laugh. “Access to my body doesn’t give you free run of my being, Nathaniel.”
“I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”
“No deal. I don’t find you very interesting.”
His grin is wolfish. “You lie well, Viv.”
I like when he calls me Viv. It’s like he knows me, and there’s a part of me lurking beneath the surface who wants to be known. Keeping up my guard is even more tiring than small talk.
“I’ll give you one pass if I ask something too sensitive. Maximum three questions for each of us.”
“Are you this curious?” I ask, more flattered than alarmed.
“Yes.”
I’m sliding through my life on half-truths. He’s so honest it’s flooring. The risk of answering his questions is at once exciting and frightening.
“But first…” He rises and walks to a small bar cart with glass shelves matching the tables and the wall behind us. His house is a shrine to gleaming glass and expressive woods. His handsome face and broad chest are reflected in a round starburst silver mirror over the bar cart. He winks at me when he notices I’m watching.
He has good taste. His style is masculine and clean. Add a few more throw pillows and a coffee table book about France, and this could’ve been my old apartment in Chicago.
He turns with two shot glasses of clear liquid. “Truth serum.”
“Vodka?”
“Tequila.”
I’m already shaking my head, but a smile sneaks onto my lips anyway.
“Come on, Viv. Live a little. I’ll go easy on you.”
“I don’t believe you.” I accept the shot glass. “But I enjoy living dangerously.”
Nate
Two shots later, Vivian is snuggled into the corner of my sofa giggling. She was a little wobbly on her last trip to the bathroom, which means she’s not going to need her car tonight. She will need a deluxe hangover breakfast tomorrow if she’s not careful.
I’m not a snuggler after sex, but I like conversation. What started out as an excuse to keep her here a while longer has turned into genuine curiosity. She’s curious about me as well, which is fun. She’s been aloof and cool until tonight. Peeling back her first layer and then a second has only made me want to peel back more.