Life After Taylah
Page 42
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He nods and I point to my car across the road. He follows me over and we both get in, silent, worried. The entire drive to my place is the same and by the time we get there, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.
“You didn’t have to do that for me, Nate,” I say, daring to make conversation.
“He was sleazing onto you, and he wouldn’t accept your refusal.”
“It happens a lot,” I offer. “I’m okay.”
“I’m not,” he grinds out, turning to me. “I’m not, because I fuckin’ hate seeing another man’s hands on you.”
“Nate . . .”
He swings the car door open and climbs out, stalking to my front door without another word. I sigh and follow him, unlocking it and letting us inside. Caffy comes barreling toward us the moment we step in.
“Okay, okay,” I say to her. “I’m coming.”
“Nice place,” Nate says, staring around my small apartment. I was going to stay with Max or Kelly for a while, but I ended up finding this place and with the extra work figured I could afford it. It’s only tiny, but it’s mine and that’s all that matters.
“It’s okay. It’s all I could afford.”
“I like it,” he says. “It’s cozy.”
I laugh weakly. “You could say that.”
The room suddenly feels thick with tension as an awkward silence fills the small space. I shift uncomfortably and then murmur, “I’m going to get the first-aid kit. You sit down.”
I rush off down the hall and into the washing room. I shut the door and press my back against it, dropping my head back and taking a long, deep breath. You can do this, just fix him up and call him a cab. There needs to be no more to it. Gathering all my strength, I turn and open the cupboard, pulling out my first-aid kit, then I rush back down the hall.
Nate is sitting on the couch, staring at his phone. When he hears me he shoves it into his pocket and his gaze fixes on me. I sit beside him and suddenly feel the heat being shared between us. I want to move back, because being this close is dangerous. I open the kit, trying to focus on getting him fixed and out of here. It’s all that matters.
“You’ll need some ice for that eye,” I say, jumping up and rushing into my small, lime-green kitchen to get an ice pack.
I bring it back and hand it to him. He takes it and presses it to his face, not taking his eyes off me. I find a cleansing swab and I tear the packet open before pulling out the damp cloth. I hesitate, staring at the small split on his lip and the dried blood on his chin.
“I don’t bite,” he says in a low, husky voice.
I place the cloth against his chin gently and murmur, “Why don’t I believe that?”
His eyes crinkle but he doesn’t smile. I gently wipe the dried blood from his chin and mouth, and then I toss the cloth onto the coffee table before tearing open another packet. I gently press the swab against his lip and a fresh drop of blood rises to the surface. I stare at it, suddenly feeling like we’re too close. I can’t breathe and I struggle to gather myself as I gently reach up and swipe the drop away with my thumb.
Nate shudders and I lose all logic and responsibility. I can only see him, his eyes on me, his lips beneath my fingers. He takes a deep, ragged breath and his hand reaches over and gently glides behind my neck, pulling me so close our foreheads touch. “You’re making it so hard to stay away,” he breathes. “So fuckin’ hard.”
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “I’m trying to be the good person.”
“I’m tired of trying,” he rasps. “I don’t want to be the fucking good person anymore.”
“Nate, it’s wrong.” I gasp as he slides his nose down and over my neck.
“It might be wrong, but it feels so fuckin’ right.”
“We’re hurting her. We have to stop.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“What I want is destroying me, Nate. I can’t possibly think straight when you’re this close . . .”
“Then tell me to back off,” he whispers, staring at my lips.
“You’re putting me in a place we both know I shouldn’t be.”
“Then tell me,” he rasps, “to back off.”
I close my eyes taking a deep, shaky breath. I should tell him to back off. Everything inside me is screaming that this is wrong but I’m struggling to fight it. I don’t want to fight it, I do want to fight it—I can’t figure out which one is the biggest. All I know is Nate is changing everything I am, and I wish more than anything that it was anyone else. But it’s not—it’s him. It’s always going to be him.
“I can’t.” My voice is shaky but it’s sure.
He growls and closes the distance between us, pressing his lips softly against mine. He kisses me softly, avoiding deepening it because his lip must be so tender. Instead he moves his mouth over my cheek and then down to my neck. He kisses the soft skin there, sucking little sections of it into his mouth while his hands slide up my back, underneath my shirt.
“Nate,” I gasp, letting my head fall back.
He moves down lower, pressing kisses to my chest and then over the tender flesh of my breast that is bulging out of my top. I tremble all over and my hands slide up his arms, starting from his wrists and going right up to his bulging biceps. He tucks his hands underneath me and lifts me into his arms, carrying me into the bedroom.
“You didn’t have to do that for me, Nate,” I say, daring to make conversation.
“He was sleazing onto you, and he wouldn’t accept your refusal.”
“It happens a lot,” I offer. “I’m okay.”
“I’m not,” he grinds out, turning to me. “I’m not, because I fuckin’ hate seeing another man’s hands on you.”
“Nate . . .”
He swings the car door open and climbs out, stalking to my front door without another word. I sigh and follow him, unlocking it and letting us inside. Caffy comes barreling toward us the moment we step in.
“Okay, okay,” I say to her. “I’m coming.”
“Nice place,” Nate says, staring around my small apartment. I was going to stay with Max or Kelly for a while, but I ended up finding this place and with the extra work figured I could afford it. It’s only tiny, but it’s mine and that’s all that matters.
“It’s okay. It’s all I could afford.”
“I like it,” he says. “It’s cozy.”
I laugh weakly. “You could say that.”
The room suddenly feels thick with tension as an awkward silence fills the small space. I shift uncomfortably and then murmur, “I’m going to get the first-aid kit. You sit down.”
I rush off down the hall and into the washing room. I shut the door and press my back against it, dropping my head back and taking a long, deep breath. You can do this, just fix him up and call him a cab. There needs to be no more to it. Gathering all my strength, I turn and open the cupboard, pulling out my first-aid kit, then I rush back down the hall.
Nate is sitting on the couch, staring at his phone. When he hears me he shoves it into his pocket and his gaze fixes on me. I sit beside him and suddenly feel the heat being shared between us. I want to move back, because being this close is dangerous. I open the kit, trying to focus on getting him fixed and out of here. It’s all that matters.
“You’ll need some ice for that eye,” I say, jumping up and rushing into my small, lime-green kitchen to get an ice pack.
I bring it back and hand it to him. He takes it and presses it to his face, not taking his eyes off me. I find a cleansing swab and I tear the packet open before pulling out the damp cloth. I hesitate, staring at the small split on his lip and the dried blood on his chin.
“I don’t bite,” he says in a low, husky voice.
I place the cloth against his chin gently and murmur, “Why don’t I believe that?”
His eyes crinkle but he doesn’t smile. I gently wipe the dried blood from his chin and mouth, and then I toss the cloth onto the coffee table before tearing open another packet. I gently press the swab against his lip and a fresh drop of blood rises to the surface. I stare at it, suddenly feeling like we’re too close. I can’t breathe and I struggle to gather myself as I gently reach up and swipe the drop away with my thumb.
Nate shudders and I lose all logic and responsibility. I can only see him, his eyes on me, his lips beneath my fingers. He takes a deep, ragged breath and his hand reaches over and gently glides behind my neck, pulling me so close our foreheads touch. “You’re making it so hard to stay away,” he breathes. “So fuckin’ hard.”
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “I’m trying to be the good person.”
“I’m tired of trying,” he rasps. “I don’t want to be the fucking good person anymore.”
“Nate, it’s wrong.” I gasp as he slides his nose down and over my neck.
“It might be wrong, but it feels so fuckin’ right.”
“We’re hurting her. We have to stop.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“What I want is destroying me, Nate. I can’t possibly think straight when you’re this close . . .”
“Then tell me to back off,” he whispers, staring at my lips.
“You’re putting me in a place we both know I shouldn’t be.”
“Then tell me,” he rasps, “to back off.”
I close my eyes taking a deep, shaky breath. I should tell him to back off. Everything inside me is screaming that this is wrong but I’m struggling to fight it. I don’t want to fight it, I do want to fight it—I can’t figure out which one is the biggest. All I know is Nate is changing everything I am, and I wish more than anything that it was anyone else. But it’s not—it’s him. It’s always going to be him.
“I can’t.” My voice is shaky but it’s sure.
He growls and closes the distance between us, pressing his lips softly against mine. He kisses me softly, avoiding deepening it because his lip must be so tender. Instead he moves his mouth over my cheek and then down to my neck. He kisses the soft skin there, sucking little sections of it into his mouth while his hands slide up my back, underneath my shirt.
“Nate,” I gasp, letting my head fall back.
He moves down lower, pressing kisses to my chest and then over the tender flesh of my breast that is bulging out of my top. I tremble all over and my hands slide up his arms, starting from his wrists and going right up to his bulging biceps. He tucks his hands underneath me and lifts me into his arms, carrying me into the bedroom.
