“Why then?”
“The same. It’s easier to say I’m fine then go into detail about how I put out a confident front, but inside I’m holding the darkness at bay and one word can send it crashing down.”
“You confound me,” he said.
My brow scrunched as I stared back at him in confusion.
“You have such a poor view of yourself.” He frowned, deep in thought, and his voice was full of concern. “How did you get this way?”
“Doesn’t matter. Damage done, and I’m working to get past it.” I swallowed hard, turning away from him as I located a cutting board and knife.
He settled his hip into the side of the counter, keeping out of my way as I worked. His position meant he could continue to talk to me and also watch my every move. “Hiding it doesn’t help you get past it.”
“No, it doesn’t, you know that all too well. The thing is: I’ve at least gotten a little better over the years. Have you?” I asked as I filled a pot with water and set it on the burner, turning it on high to get it boiling.
“Your eyes say differently,” he said, diverting away from my question yet again.
“I said I’ve gotten better, not that I was healed. Downers don’t help, that’s why I don’t go out drinking with people…you’ve seen what happens.”
“Yes, but that also shows you aren’t better.”
“You make me better,” I whispered in a small voice.
He blinked at me, his face stoic.
“You make me feel like I’m all of the things they said I wasn’t. Beautiful, smart, sexy…worth something.”
“Who are ‘they’?” Nathan asked after a moment of silence. “What did ‘they’ do to you?”
“You want to know? You’re certain you want me to tell you how every day I was told how insignificant I was?” I set down the knife and turned toward him, my arms crossing over my chest. “You’re not forthcoming with information, and I get that, I do. I hope one day you’ll be able to tell me. As for me… Well, when you’re young, and the people in your life tell you these things every day, you begin to believe them. They become ingrained into who you are, and I’ve worked damn hard to push them away. Years of therapy. I’ve seen a psychiatrist from the time I was seventeen. Twelve years later I have more confidence, but everything still haunts me.”
“I’ve done that to you, haven’t I? I’ve said something to trigger you?” His tone was knowing.
“You didn’t know,” I said with a shrug, looking away. “Alcohol is a double edged sword for me. It helps me sleep, but my depression spikes.”
“Yet you drink every Friday, letting everything come back,” he noted.
“Stalking me now?” I teased.
“No, just observant.”
“Well, Mr. Observant, can you hand me the bread sitting next to you?”
I placed the vegetables on a cutting board and rinsed my hands. My skin prickled with the familiar humming that passed between us, letting me know he was in very close proximity. I took the bread from him, letting out a breath. The back of his fingers caressed my cheeks as his gaze captured mine.
“You are so much more than pretty. That was what I wanted to say to you that night. Instead I was inadvertently mean to push you away.” He pressed his body against me, pushing me into the counter. His forehead fell forward, resting against my own. “How do you do this to me?”
With a small tentative move, I tilted my head, testing him, giving him an out before my lips found his. He didn’t move at first, didn’t breathe, but then his hands were in my hair, his tongue slipping in to find mine, his teeth biting my bottom lip when he gave in.
“Fuck, you taste so good. Could fucking eat you for dinner,” he said with a growl, his hips rocking forward, pressing his cock into my stomach. He was hard and my eyes closed from the euphoric feeling of what I wanted.
“Please.”