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My phone dings. Jules just sent a screenshot of my post about Nathan. Her message says:
Transparent, much?
I toss my phone in my purse, ignoring her.
“How was your night?” He asks as we pull out of the parking lot.
How was my night? I turn in my seat to face him. “What is this?”
“I can’t ask how your night was? I thought we were friends.”
I can’t help but shake my head in disbelief as I study him in profile. His strong jaw is clenched, like he wants to say something but is physically stopping himself.
“You are up to something. I can tell. You and my brother.”
“Nope.” He gives me a quick, innocent smile. “Just two friends shopping for furniture. Perhaps the least sexy thing we could be doing.”
“Whatever you say, Sterling.” I turn on the radio and sit back in my seat, trying not to look at him anymore as we drive toward the mall.
“What about this one?” I ask as I run my fingers along a dining table. We’re in one of those giant furniture showrooms, where the options are endless and the lighting gives you a migraine. I’ve driven past this place a bunch of times, but the prices here are out of my tax bracket.
Nathan shrugs at the table, looking bored. “I think we should start with a bed,” he says with a little twinkle in his eye that starts a wave of adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I sputter, which is probably exactly the reaction he was going for. “I mean, you need a table. You can’t eat at the coffee table forever.”
“I also can’t sleep on an air mattress forever,” he says pragmatically. He takes my arm and starts pulling me toward the bedroom section.
I roll my eyes and let him pull me away. Yep, he knows exactly what he’s doing. “You’re not fooling anyone with that smile. Fine. Beds it is, but don’t get any ideas… friend.”
“Strictly business,” he gives a mock salute. “Scout’s honor.”
“It’s funny,” I say, steering the topic away from bedrooms. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to go shopping and just not even look at price tags. Just buy anything I want. Must be nice.”
His shoulders hunch again like he’s closing in on himself. He does this any time I mention his fame and fortune. I noticed it last night when I complimented the size of his house. I’m not sure why success seems to be a source of shame to him, but I can’t help but find it odd. All I’ve thought about for seven years is success. The success I need to support Rory and myself, and to prove to everyone that I didn’t ruin my life. I made it, despite the struggles I faced.
Nathan, on the other hand, doesn’t even seem to try. Success just comes to him… and he is ashamed by it. Strange. Could never be me.
He peers at me askance. “We can redecorate your place while we’re here, if you want. I’m sure Rory could use some things. I’d love to spoil you.”
“No,” I sputter again. “That’s not what I was getting at. I just—that’s a nice bed.” I march over to a king-size sleigh bed. Nathan chuckles and follows. He presses a large hand down on the soft feather duvet, testing the spring.
“Hm,” he frowns. “I like this one better.” He heads over to a dark cherry wood bed that’s big enough for his whole football team. It’s not something I’d have picked for him, but I can imagine it in that palatial mansion of his… worse, I can imagine him in it… maybe with some satin sheets, resting loosely over the cut of his naked hipbones.
“Do you like it?” He asks. When did he get so close to me? Why didn’t I notice? Why are there butterflies fluttering in my stomach?
“It’s nice,” I say, the most bland answer I can think up.
“Nice,” he repeats, breath tickling the back of my neck.
Without ceremony, he jumps and flops sideways across the bed, and I no longer have to rely on imagination. I swallow, fighting the tingle between my legs at the sight of those dark eyes peering up at me from the bed. He holds out a hand, inviting me to join him.
For a moment, I’m almost tempted to do just that, but some shred of common sense still remains. Thank God. “For display purposes only,” I say, pointing at the sign.
He grabs my hand anyway, and yanks me down. I sprawl haphazardly across his solid chest. That light tingle is now a throbbing need between my legs. It’s insistent, begging for relief. Wicked thoughts swirl. If we were alone, I’d roll my hips along the rigid line I feel pressing eagerly against me.
I lock my gaze onto his dark eyes as I draw in a shallow breath. His eyes drop to my lips and my core throbs. Is he going to kiss me again? Am I going to let him… again?
Apparently, the answer is yes. One moment I’m looking down at him and the next, he’s kissing me. His lips demand my full attention, ensuring I forget everything else. He’s hard beneath me, and I give an experimental roll of my hips just to quell the building need between my thighs.
