Page 107 of Any Port in a Storm

“Really,” he says into my hair. “I’ve been all yours since day one.”

I actually drop his hand in shock. “What?”

“Sorry,” he says. “Too much?”

“I just…what are you saying?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“That’s not likely.”

“Maybe…” he inhales deeply. “For tonight, can we maybe just…live in this place? I want to savor you.”

If only affectionate Nick weren’t so sultry. I squirm against the moisture pooling between my thighs. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not super turned on right now,” I admit. “Maybe don’t use words like ‘savor’ if you’re hoping to keep things platonic.”

“Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. But yes, we can just…live here,” I grab his hand again and squeeze for emphasis. “For tonight.”

“Good. And Laurel?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m not. Hoping to keep things platonic, that is.”

I lean forward and press my lips against his cheek. It’s warm and smooth and perfect. I linger there, then kiss him again.

God, I want to keep kissing him.

Fighting it with every ounce of self-control in my body, I drag my face back to his chest and burrow in against him. “Good night, Nicholas.”

I can feel him harden against me. Jesus freaking Christ. I didn’t know the full name was such a thing for him. I tuck that delicious knowledge away for another time.

“Good night, Laurel,” he says with much effort.

I snicker.

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Mm,” he hums into my hair. “I suppose I don’t.”

It takes a long time for either of us to fall asleep after that.

I wake up curled against Nick, my head on his shoulder, still holding his hand. His usually ruffled hair is even more disheveled than usual, and I have an overwhelming urge to run my fingers through it.

“Hey,” he says, stirring against me.

“Hey yourself.” I kiss the center of his ribcage, right over his heartbeat, before I can stop myself. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, voice graveled with sleep. “It’s morning now. We get to revisit the terms of our relationship.”

I’m pretty sure nothing has ever sounded so appealing. “Unfortunately, Grace is asleep on my couch, probably still caught in the throes of heartbreak. So I have to shove down all thoughts of what I’d like to do right now and get dressed so we can take her to breakfast.”

Nick’s grin is positively feral. “What things would you like to do right now?”

“I can’t tell you.” I start to roll out of bed.