Rachel grabbed his shirt as he clasped her waist and they both pulled at each other, colliding. The taste of him, already familiar, made her head swim. She gave him her tongue, and he sucked and swirled until she was gasping. They broke apart so she could wrap her legs around him and the dress bunched at her hips. He slid his hands underneath and squeezed her thighs.
“We probably shouldn’t,” Nathan said, his voice thick and rough while he stared at her mouth. “I’m really trying not to be an asshole here.”
She braced against his shoulders and rocked into his erection. He made a guttural sound low in his throat. “You’re not an asshole, Nathan.”
Nathan sank both hands into her hair and gently pulled her head back. He pressed his mouth to her neck, and mumbled, “You don’t know me, Rachel,” into her skin. She felt his breath, his teeth, the flick of his tongue against her pulse. “But I really want you to.”
He cupped her breast. She arched into his hand while he teased her nipple, whispering, “Harder,” against his ear. He slipped his fingers beneath her dress to give her what she wanted—blurring the line between pleasure and pain, making a thrilling mess of her senses.
He kissed her again, tracing the strip of lace at her hip. “Can I taste you?” His hand stilled as he waited for permission. She said, “Yes,” and his expression shifted, darkening to something so greedy and determined, it might have been the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.
He lowered her to the couch and paused to stare at the crooked half circle drawn on her hip. “Is this the mystery tattoo?”
She propped herself on her elbows. “Oh. It was supposed to be a moon, like in Starry Night.” Nathan tried and failed to hide his amusement. She rolled her eyes. “I know.”
He circled it with his fingertips. “I could draw something for you.” His hand slipped beneath her panties light and teasing, which she loved but also hated. Her legs trembled as he tugged them down her thighs. “You’re not a moon girl.”
“What am I?” she rasped. He held her gaze as he finally massaged her clit. She ignited.
“You’re the fucking sun.”
He pressed his lips against her like a kiss. One side, then the other. It had been so long since anyone had seen her like this—wet, exposed, and swollen. It made her want to hide from the hungry way he looked at her. She also wanted more.
She felt his tongue, slick and cool, and the intensity made her startle. Nathan leaned back. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” She extended a hand. “It’s not you, it’s—it’s been a while. I don’t know if… It might take a while,” she said, and hated that it sounded like an apology.
“I plan on being down here awhile, so I think we’re good.” He grinned, but his gaze was steady and measured, closely tracking her reaction. “Do you trust me?”
She was sprawled over his couch, her panties crumpled on his floor. “Of course I do.”
Nathan sat back on his heels. “I want to learn you.” He guided her hand between her legs. “Show me, Rachel.”
It felt like too much. Too intimate. But as he watched her, his thumb sweeping a reassuring trail over her knuckles, she realized that this was what he’d meant. Do you trust me enough to be seen too?
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. He hovered close, the heat from his body warming her sweat-glazed skin. She pressed her fingers inside, deep, the way she liked. Nathan voiced his approval in taut, chanting whispers.
She pictured him watching with those beautiful eyes—amber, like whiskey, and threaded with gold. The image nearly pushed her over the edge. His breath caressed the back of her hand, tempting her to look. She’d just caught her rhythm when he licked her, in the perfect spot, with the perfect pressure, and then settled into a slow, efficient devastation. Rachel broke apart. She came, hard and trembling, slurring his name. A filthy unraveling.
He straightened, flushed and short of breath. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, it would be a stream of babbling thank yous. Or worse. She might burst into tears.
By the time they moved to the bed, she had started to recover. She slid naked between the sheets and watched him undress. Nathan could have been a Greek sculpture with his contoured chest and defined six-pack that tapered in a V into his pants. She was in good shape, but she was also older—softer in places that used to be firm. Nathan’s body looked healthy and new in a way that made her feel every one of her thirty-seven years. She sat back on the bed and pulled the sheet up over her breasts.
“Hey.” He sat beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her gaze roamed over his chest. His tattoos were a living painting on a bronze canvas. “You’re a little too beautiful. It broke my brain for a minute.”
His face reddened, and he ducked his head—smiling big enough to make his eyes wrinkle at the corners. “I’m not thinking clearly either.” His eyes slid over her, lingering where the sheet covered her breasts. “I pictured this, you in my bed, but the real thing is just…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t say what I’m thinking.”
She sat up, and the sheet slid lower. His eyes tracked its progression. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s inappropriate.”
A laugh burst from her throat, and that crooked grin slid across his face. “I think we’re past that,” she said.
“We are? Good.” He unfastened his belt and dropped it on the floor.
He spent the rest of the night proving with his body—hands on her wrists, hips between her legs, his mouth hot and greedy against her skin—that this was what she was made for. That she was just blood and muscle, skin stretched over atoms colliding. They came, shuddering and gasping, bodies hot and slick as they collapsed into an exhausted heap.
She loved the heavy weight of him pressing her down into the mattress. Nathan pushed her hair back and smiled. “Like I said. My thoughts were inappropriate.” She laughed. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and serious. “How are you feeling? Was that—”
“I am fine,” Rachel said, cupping his cheek. “And that was incredible.”
“You’re incredible.” He kissed her and climbed out of bed. “I’ll get you some water.” He paused to look at her. “Promise you’ll be right there when I get back.”
She settled against the pillows, the pull of sleep already thickening her words. “I promise.”
CHAPTER TEN
Nathan had never been ghosted. It was something he’d never even thought about until he woke up alone, grasping at empty sheets. Rachel was gone. He checked his phone, assuming she’d sent a message. Nothing. Not even a missed call.
Once the realization hit, he spent the next forty-eight hours drafting whiny texts he would never send. What could he even say? On a scale of maybe someday to blocking this number, what are my chances of ever seeing you again?
On the third day of silence, he decided to let it go. When his alarm went off, he got up long enough to open the laundromat, before crawling back under his covers to lick his wounds. He dozed off again but was startled awake by someone knocking on his door. He didn’t move. But then it turned into pounding.