Rusty Nailed
Page 50

Simon stood in front of the window (the closet had a window. I can’t even.) and gestured at the view. “I wonder if my closet has a window too.”
I gulped. “There’s another closet?” I spun back into the bedroom. Yep, there it was. Two closets. I more than whimpered this time. I looked at Simon, who was leaving my closet (the closet) and coming toward me. I backed into the wall as each step came closer.
“No. No, Simon.”
“We could totally do this.”
“We could totally not do this! Not kidding.”
“This house is incredible.”
“This house is a money pit. Haven’t you ever seen that movie?”
“Have you ever seen a view like the one from that porch?” he asked, placing his hands on either side of the wall, caging me in. “Quit trying to talk yourself out of this,” he said with the tiniest bit of . . . annoyance?
“You haven’t even seen the basement,” I said.
“So we’ll go to the basement.”
“I’m scared of basements, Simon.”
“Everyone’s scared of basements, Caroline.”
“You too? One time when I was a kid, I—”
But I couldn’t finish my story about the time I gave myself a black eye racing up the basement steps with every Barbie I owned because of the werewolf that was chasing me, because I suddenly had a very insistent and very skilled tongue working past my lips and into my mouth.
I had barely caught my breath before the assault on my senses began again. His hands pressed into the small of my back, pulling me into him. His kiss ended, and he now rested his forehead against my own. There was want and need in his eyes, but in a different way than normal. I brought my hand up to his face and traced a path down his jaw.
“I’m not totally saying no,” I whispered, and sudden joy broke across his face. I pushed him off me and looked again at the bedroom. He snuck his hands around my waist, which I allowed. Frankly, I needed the anchor. This was crazy.
“Since when did you want to live in Sausalito?”
“It’s grown on me. Besides, they’re turning our building into condos—we’d have to move sooner or later.”
“That’s a rumor.”
“That’s a fact. The lady in 2A told me.”
“The lady in 2A just wants to get in your pants. Are we actually talking about this? And can we afford this?”
“I can, and you can help out. I know you’re already thinking about all the things you want to change.”
“We’d start with the carpet; that would come up immediately,” I answered promptly, then slapped a hand over my mouth.
“I knew it.” He laughed, and tugged me over to the window seat. For Christ’s sake, a window seat. I never stood a chance. When he pulled me onto his lap, I let him.
“Okay, look,” I said. “Let’s just talk about this for a minute. A year ago, you had just left behind your harem. Now you want to move out to the suburbs with me?”
“I would hardly call this the suburbs.”
“You know what I mean. This is just . . . Look, you have to admit that things have been different since . . .” I trailed off.
“Since?” he prodded.
“This just isn’t what I was expecting. You’re asking me to— Wait. What are you asking me?” I asked suddenly, my entire body going on point.
“I’m asking if you want to live together, silly girl. To buy this totally impractical, beautiful house that’s way too big for two people, and live in it with me. Together.”
And I’d thought we were just going out for a stroll today.
I looked around the bedroom, looked out the window at the killer view. I looked at him, looked him right in the eye, and tried to uncover what he was thinking. “You sure you want all this?” I asked, not just talking about the house.
“Hell, yes. I love you; that’s not going to change. I want this, I want you, and I think . . . Oh hell, here comes the Dawson’s Creek.” He grimaced and I chuckled in spite of the moment.
His gaze grew wistful, and he looked so young. “I don’t want to put things off, even though we haven’t been together a really long time. I don’t want to wait—you never know what can . . . Look. I adore you, and I want a home. Again. With you.”
That did it. Cue the waterworks.
“You’re killing me, Simon.” I sniffled, tears and nose beginning to run.
“I know. I’m very cute when I’m vulnerable,” he said, making me snort in a very unladylike way.
“So without knowing how much this house costs, without knowing anything about buying a house in Sausalito, without an inspection or a real estate agent and knowing there’s a shit ton of work to be done, you want this? All of it—you really want this?”
He nodded, looking determined but a little afraid of my answer.
I got off his lap and walked around the bedroom once more. There were at least a hundred reasons why this was maybe not the best idea. I peered out the big window once more, looking down onto the old rosebushes in the brush. I bet this was beautiful in the spring.
I leaned on the windowsill, seeing the last of the afternoon sun leave the city across the bay. The windowsills were deep, exactly the right size for a very particular cat to doze in. I turned to Simon, now standing in the doorway with the most hopeful look ever.
Did I want this?
Is this what it was like, being grown up? Making big decisions, and then moving into a new phase of your life? Wasn’t this too fast, too impulsive, too . . .
I did want this. And I wanted it with Simon. I nodded yes, and he grinned, laughed, then kissed me stupid.
Three hours later, he’d made an offer. It was accepted.
Grown-ups, right?
• • •
“Are we rushing into this?”
“No, we’ve been at this quite a while. It’s called foreplay, Caroline,” Simon murmured, south of my navel.
“I’m familiar with the concept,” I replied, tightening my legs around his midsection and lifting up onto my elbows to peer down at him. “Not talking about the foreplay, although it’s good.”
“Good? Just good?” He crawled up my body, kissing it all the while. I shivered. “I was giving you some of my best stuff down there.”
“Did I say good? I meant fantastic. Phenomenal.” I kissed him square on the lips. “Out of this world.”
“That’s better. Now, what’s this about rushing things?” He used my left breast as a pillow as his fingertips traced lightly over the right.