Her breathing continues to come in choppy gasps as I hold her tightly to me with my arms wrapped around her back. I never would have believed that damn dream was just a drunken memory. Had I known, fuck, I would never have let this much time go—the hurt fester—without making it right. Now, I’m not even sure how to fix this.
“I understand now,” she says with a hitch to her breath. “It doesn’t take away all of the pain it caused, but it goes a long way in dulling it.”
“I’m so sorry,” I lament. “It sounds like a weak thing to say, I know that, but fuck, I am … so sorry.”
She pushes off my chest and lifts herself until her face is level with mine. You would never know she had even shed one tear. Most chicks I know turn a hundred different shades of swollen red when they’re crying but not Ember. Her face is just slightly flushed, but other than her wet eyelashes, you would never know.
“I’m terrified, Nate, honestly terrified. If what you say is true and looking back on painful memories only makes that hurt grow, then I need to get over it. But I don’t know how. In my head, I’m convinced that you’re just going to drop me if I blink too long. My heart, though, is telling me to wrap myself around you and never let go. I feel like I’m being torn in two different directions.”
She is silently begging me with an expression mixed with fear and hope to provide her with all the answers, but I know nothing I can say will give her what she needs.
This is something I need to show her.
Prove to her.
Fight for her.
I frame her face in my hands, feeling her pulse beat wildly at the base of her neck as I lean forward and press my lips against hers. I don’t deepen the kiss, but when I take a deep breath through my nose and my senses are full of everything that is her, this kiss feels more intimate than anything I had ever felt before.
“Keep following your heart, Ember. Follow it—me—and let me worry about guiding the way. Allow me to prove to you that I’m worthy of you giving me your love back. How does that sound?”
I’M A BUNDLE OF NERVES.
I called Nate about an hour ago and told him I would be there around eight and he told me just to pull up out back and he would meet me there.
When I drove up, passing the entrance, I was shocked to see so many people lined up outside. There were so many people; it looked like they were pouring out of the club. I never thought that Tuesday would be a popular club night, but apparently, it is.
When I was here for my birthday and first witnessed what they called the holding room, I thought it was a brilliant idea to have a whole building designated for the people waiting to get into the actual club. But seeing all the people lined up outside, I feel an instant sense of pride that Nate’s club is so popular that they can’t even make room for everyone, and that’s just in its second week of operation.
Pulling my car beside Nate’s huge truck, I turn the key and take a huge gulp of air in an attempt to calm the butterflies swirling around my stomach like a tornado. Stepping out, I walk to the trunk and pull out my picnic basket. Before I can shut the trunk, though, the basket is being taken from my hands and Nate’s scent hits my nose.
Whatever cologne he uses is so distinctively him that I’ve caught myself over the years following the trail when I would catch a whiff of it in random places. If I knew the name, I’m pretty sure I would buy a bottle just to spray on my sheets.
With that thought, coupled with those damn butterflies, my mouth opens and I speak without turning. “What cologne do you wear?”
His low chuckle rumbles against my back as he kisses me on my temple before leaning in and breathing right next to my ear. His scent becomes stronger instantly.
“Acqua Di Gio,” he hums against my ear, the reverberations washing over me, and I shiver instantly.
“Who makes that?” I ask breathlessly.
“Giorgio Armani.”
I’m definitely buying a bottle and spraying every inch of my house.
“Give me some time, baby, and I’ll transfer it on every inch myself. Just need you to help.”
“Shit,” I hiss when I realize I spoke that out loud.
His free hand comes up and turns me gently before pulling me to his side. “Hey.” He laughs.
Embarrassment forgotten, I look up into his handsome face and echo his greeting in a whisper. He shakes his head, his hair moving around his angular face, making my palms itch to run my fingers through the silky strands. I’m so used to seeing him with it up in one of those sexy man buns that the rare sight of it falling free makes my mouth water and my core clench.
Damn, he is so sexy.
His lips twitch, and I know I did it again.
“Come on. I’ve been starving for you, and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I left your house.”
He grabs my hand, the other holding the basket full of our dinner, and pulls me toward the door that I just now notice the bartender who served me shots on my birthday is holding open.
“Dent, meet my girl, Ember. Ember, my friend, Denton.”