***
I smell coffee. And bacon. Is Natalie cooking? Did hell freeze over? I roll onto my side and stretch and open my eyes and frown.
This is not my room.
Then I remember. The email, dinner, coming to Nate’s apartment, the cheesecake, the sex… Oh, the sex.
I sit up and wince. I’m a little sore, but that’s to be expected. I haven’t had sex in almost a year, and Nate’s… well, Nate’s big. I smile to myself and climb out of bed, pulling on my discarded pajamas from the night before, and wander out into the great room.
Nate is at the stove with his back to me, and I pause a moment to take in the gorgeous. He’s wearing pajama pants that hang low on his hips and he’s shirtless, his hair is tied back off his face. His tattoos are such a distraction, and they give him a bad boy look that I so was not expecting. Who knew that under those conservative suits was a rough, tattooed, pierced fighter?
It’s fucking hot.
He’s moving about his sexy kitchen gracefully, with cool confidence. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me, aside from my mom when I was a kid, or Luke when he and Nat invited me over for dinner last month.
But those don’t count. They’re family.
Daughtry is singing about it not being over in Nate’s sound system, his voice is gritty, and sexy, and so appropriate to describe the hot man in the kitchen.
I saunter into the room, wrap my arms around Nate’s waist and bury my nose in his back between his shoulder blades. God, he smells good. Body wash and sex and Nate. It’s a heady combination.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He turns in my arms, grabs my face in his hands, and kisses me in the only way Nate can.
“Good morning, hot stuff.” I grin up at him and run my fingers down his face.
“Coffee?” he asks.
“God, yes. Please.” He laughs and pours me a cup, adding just the right amount of creamer and sugar and my eyebrows climb into my hairline. “How did you know how I take my coffee?”
“I pay attention.” He shrugs, hands me the mug and turns back to the stove.
What else does he know?
“Can I help?” I ask and take a sip of coffee. Mmm… perfect. I could get used to this.
“It’s just about done. Egg-white omelet okay with you?” he asks.
“Perfect. You’ll work the bacon off in the gym when I kick your ass today.” I put my sassy smile on and lean against the counter, sipping my coffee.
“I look forward to it, baby,” he grins back at me and winks. We settle in at the breakfast bar and dig in.
“Mmm… good,” I mumble around the food in my mouth.
He grins down at me and digs into his own plate. We eat in companionable silence, then I hop up and clear our dirty dishes, and load them into the dishwasher. I turn around and Nate’s watching me, his chin resting in his palm.
“What?” I ask.
“I could have done that.”
“You cooked. I don’t mind.” I shrug and lean back against the sink.
“You look good in my kitchen.”
“It’s a sexy kitchen,” I murmur and grin.
“So I’ve recently been told by a very sexy woman.”
Oh, flirty Nate is fun!
“Really? Do I know her?”
“I think so. She has gorgeous long blonde hair, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and a killer body.” His eyes soften on mine and he continues. “And she is so smart, funny as hell, and a very loyal friend. Oh, and her work ethic is infuriatingly solid.”
Wow. What the hell do I say to that? I blink at him and open my mouth, then close it again. I cross my arms over my chest and look down.
“Look at me,” he whispers, and I raise my eyes to his. “Whether you believe it or not, Julianne, you are a very special woman, and I’m thankful that you’re here.”
“I think you’re special too,” I whisper and offer him a smile.
“Come on,” he climbs off his stool and holds a hand out for me to join him. “Let’s go to the gym before I strip us both naked and we spend the day in my bed.”
***
“Do you have a leather jacket?” Nate asks me as we ride down the elevator to the garage.
“No,” I respond.
“We’re going to have to get you one.” The elevator stops and we walk out. Why? I’m wearing my black yoga pants, a tight sports bra and fitted black tank, and because it’s spring and still cool in Seattle, a denim jacket. Nate is in long work out pants, a black sleeveless muscle shirt, and a black leather jacket. He has a folded black bandana wrapped around his head, keeping his hair out of his face. I spot his shiny black Mercedes and my little red Lexus.
“Do you want to take my car or yours?” I ask.
“Neither.” He responds and keeps walking. He stops next to a sleek, black motorcycle. It’s long and lean, with chrome tires and handlebars.
“This is yours?” I ask, my eyes wide.
“She is,” he offers me a wolfish grin. “You’ll need leather so we can ride her often.”
“It’s not summer yet,” I respond, backing up a bit.
“It’s not raining today. We’ll be fine.” He eyes me and sees my apprehension. “If you’d rather not, we can take my car.”
He looks so hopeful, how can I say no?
“No, it’s fine. I’ve never ridden on one before.”
“Well, I’m glad I’ll be your first, Miss Montgomery.” He swings a leg over the seat and settles in, pulling the bike upright and clicking back the kick-stand. He holds his hand out to me to help me on.
“What about my purse?” I ask.
“Oh, here,” he opens a satchel on the side and I slip my bag down in it, then climb on behind him. The seat is surprisingly comfortable. He passes me a black helmet and helps me secure it before fastening his own. “Hold on to me, around my waist. Lean in to the turns. Just sit back and enjoy the view, Julianne. I’ve got you.” He kisses me briefly, and my belly tightens.