“I am all for wake up calls like that, Mr. Thorne.”
Steam filling the room drew my attention away from him—the pot was at a rapid boil. Nathan stepped back, and I shuddered as he slipped out of me. He helped me down from the counter before locating a towel to clean us up. My feet touched the cold tile floor, and I turned to shut off the boiling water, but my legs failed me and I stumbled back into him.
He chuckled, his arms wrapping around me as he kissed my neck. “Hmm, maybe we should have something delivered instead of putting you near a pot of boiling water right now.”
“You may be on to something.” My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, laughing the whole time.
Two hours later, we were full of fried rice and cashew chicken, lying in my bed. My head rested on his chest, and his fingers were lightly running through my hair.
“Hey, Nathan?” My eyes and body were heavy, sleep closing in.
“Hmm?”
“I’m yours, just so you know,” I mumbled, my mind drifting off into the dark of sleep before he could respond.
CHAPTER 11
Nathan never brought up my declaration in the following weeks. At least not in words. Sometimes I caught his expression flicker, like he was thinking about what I told him—about being his. It faded as soon as it showed up, and I figured that the thought of it made him edgy.
Every day his agitation grew. It was subtle, hiding in his perfected act, so most people didn’t notice, but I knew him better than they did. His fingers combed and tugged at his hair and neck more often, his leg bounced in an increasing tempo, and his fuse became shorter.
All-in-all, he was a ticking time bomb.
His nightmares shook the bed almost every night. His grip was bone crushing as he clung to me, trying to keep it all in. I soothed him as best I could, but I knew it would take more than me to fix him. He needed to let it all out, not keep it in. Purge himself of the emotions he kept tightly locked away. Pot calling the kettle, coming from me, but his pain was earth shattering compared to my own.
Over time, I learned he was taking a myriad of drugs daily. Anti-anxiety, anti-depressant, pain medications; I didn’t know everything he was ingesting, but I had a feeling some of them he was taking more than he did before and it was because of me. The effect I had on him, and the demons I caused to surface, were too much. He could try to deny it, but there was no point in hiding from me. Not me.
I was amazed at how well I was beginning to read Nathan when we were in the office. His discomfort for the Boob-Squad was clear, but no one else could tell.
I sat in my chair, pretending to work, when in reality I was gauging his reaction, trying to figure out why he didn’t tell the Boob-Squad to leave him alone once and for all.
His muscles tensed with every passing minute, and he was not good.
Tiffany, member number three, was clamoring for his attentions. Leaning toward him, the top two buttons of her blouse were undone, exposing the top of her breasts as she reached to point at some arbitrary word on a summons her client had received.
In my peripheral, I watched him try to avoid looking down her shirt, not wanting to give her any opening, eluding to his disinterest. However, he was a man with breasts being flashed at him, it wasn’t like he could resist their call for long. Even from my angle I could see right down her shirt and her ample assets were straining against the hot pink lace of her bra. Of course he was staring at her tits. It was like a fucking neon sign drawing people in. Who could resist that? Even I was having a difficult time looking away.
One small glance spurred her on, and she walked around to his side of the desk so she didn’t have to read it upside down. To most it looked like he was making room for her, moving over and back a bit. To me, I saw him fleeing, trying to keep space between them.