“Hey,” he said, grinning boyishly. “I’m running late. Just stepped out of the shower.”
He sure did. A drop of water caressed the line of his collarbone and then slipped down his chest.
My pulse picked up.
Oh God, I wanted to jump him. Drop the hamburger meat and everything and just jump him, right there in the entryway of his grandfather’s house.
His dark brows rose. “You coming in?”
I needed to get a grip.
“Of course.” I cleared my throat and stepped inside, and because it wouldn’t be appropriate to jump his bones, I stretched up and brushed my lips over his.
Nick snaked an arm around my waist, drawing me up against his damp chest before I had a chance to step back. I almost dropped the groceries as he took that kiss to a whole different level. He tasted of mint and a whole lot of sultry promises I wanted to fulfill. Like right there.
“Every time,” he said against my mouth.
I had to catch my breath. “What?”
“Every time you see me, I want you to do that.” His nose brushed mine as he tilted his head, kissing me once more. “I want the first thing you do is kiss me. I want that kind of hello.”
Oh gosh.
My heart swelled so fast and so powerfully that when he set me back down on my feet and stepped back, I could feel actual tears climbing up the back of my throat. “I can do that,” I said when I really meant, Oh my good God, I will totally do that every freaking single time. Turning around, I gave myself time to recover by taking in my surroundings.
The house embodied an open concept. From where we stood, I could see into a large living room and kitchen to the right, with an eat-in dining room. There was a closed door to what I guessed was a bathroom. To my left was what appeared to be a study and another closed door. The stairs heading up to the second floor were directly in front of us. Hardwood floors as far as the eye could see.
“Everything is so . . . neat,” I said as Nick took the bags from me.
He laughed. “What were you expecting?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know.” I followed him toward the country-style kitchen—white cabinets, gray granite everywhere. “This place is neater than my apartment.”
“That is fucking true.”
Laughing, I smacked his arm as he set the groceries on the counter. “Hey!”
He grinned as grabbed the packets of hamburgers and placed them in the fridge. When he pulled out the tater tots, he shook his head. “You’re such a kid.”
“Shut up.” I leaned against the island as he placed the tots in the freezer. The house was so quiet I felt like I should whisper. “Is your grandfather up?”
“He’s actually asleep right now.”
“Oh.” I clapped my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. I was so loud.”
“It’s okay.” He stepped around the island and reached down, taking my hand. “When he sleeps, it’s pretty deep. A dump truck could drive through the garage and he’d sleep right through it. And he’s been sleeping a lot today.”
“Is that a good or bad thing? The sleeping a lot?”
“It’s . . . really neither.” He tugged on my hand. “Come on.”
Nick led me back to the foyer and past the study, to the closed door. When he opened it, I felt like a teenager again, sneaking through my boyfriend’s house so we didn’t alert his parents to what we were up to.
“Did you grandfather build this house?” I asked.
“Yep.” He pushed the door open, revealing a large bedroom. “He always planned that at some point more than one generation of the family would be living here, so there’s actually three master bedrooms. This is one of them. It has a walk-in over there. There’s the bathroom.” He gestured to a set of double doors to our right. “Can’t complain. Lots of good space.”
“Whoa.” I looked around, seeing little bits of Nick. A dark shirt on the bed. A pair of boots in front of dark wood dresser. A stack of magazines on one of the nightstands. “This is nice. Where are the other two masters?”
“One is downstairs in the basement. It’s virtually its own apartment—kitchen, living area, and all that.” He reached out, catching a strand of my hair and tucking it back behind my ear. “The other one is upstairs. A more traditional master, I guess. It’s my grandfather’s room.”
I turned to him, smiling as I lifted my chin. “Your grandfather built a very beautiful house.”
Grinning, he backed up. “You haven’t seen the bathroom yet.” Wheeling around, he stopped in front of the double doors and pushed them open.
Nick stepped aside as I peered in. My mouth dropped opened as my eyes widened. “Wow . . .”
The master bath was the size of my bedroom. A Jacuzzi tub was pristine, as if it had never been used before. A slivery chandelier hung over it. The shower was large enough to fit three people, and the tan tile reached the ceilings. There was a rain showerhead.
“I could live in this,” I whispered. “And I sort of hate you.”