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But he can touch me. It’s when we kiss and press our bodies together that his mind betrays him. “What scares you? When will you tell me what happened to you?”
“Shit, I just…” He shakes his head, his face white like paper. “Can’t.”
“Okay.” I want to hold him, stroke his face, his hair, reassure him, but I don’t dare touch right now. “We don’t have to do this.”
“The hell we don’t,” he whispers, “unless… you don’t want it.”
“I do. So much. But it’s okay if you can’t, Nate.”
“The hell it is. How can it be okay? Not being able to fucking touch you, hold you…” he chokes.
“We can take it slow. I’d wait for you, don’t you see?”
His eyes go a little wide. “Syd…”
“I’ll always wait for you.”
“You shouldn’t have to. Wait for me, put up with me freaking out. Pushing you away.”
I finally give in and touch his face. He draws in a
n uneven breath. “You’re worth waiting for, Nate.”
“Am I?” Slightly bitter, and breathless, and hopeful. God, he has pretty eyes. They shine like old jewels. “I thought you’d have given up on me and settled on Kash and West by now.”
“I’m not giving up on you. Why would you think that?”
“I’m not an easy person to be around.”
“No, you’re not. What would be the fun in that?”
He finally grins, and drags me down to the mattress with him. “Sleep with me?”
“You only have to ask, Mr. Brady.” I grin back at him and settle in for a restless night, my heart torn between happiness and sorrow.
A noise wakes me up in the middle of the night. I’m lying next to Nate, his hand on my waist, my hands pressed to his chest, splayed over smooth, warm skin. I can feel his heart thump under my palms, slow and steady.
Peaceful.
He’s fast asleep, but he’s a light sleeper, so when the noise comes again and I move, he stirs, blinking dark lashes. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Go back to sleep. I’m going to check on West.”
“Hm…” He takes my hands off his chest and kisses the palms, making me shiver. “Is he having a nightmare? I’ll go with you.”
I love calm, sleepy-eyed Nate. He’s raw sexiness like this, a grin curving his generous mouth, his hair tousled and that naked chest… God.
Just as much as I like messed-up Nate, all sharp edges and pain. Because that’s him, too. Both sides make up the man I love.
One of the men I love, but I won’t think of this now, this complication.
“Come on, then.” I roll out of bed and realize that at some point during the night I got rid of my jeans and slept in my blouse and bra. Tugging on the hem of the blouse, I pad out of the room, squinting through the dimness at West who’s supposed to be asleep on the sofa.
But as my eyes grow accustomed to the low light, the only source a small lamp in the corner, I see West swinging his legs off the sofa, preparing to get up.
He nods at me and Nate, his heavily muscled torso gleaming golden.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
