Meeting Mr. Wright (24 page)

N
ATE AND
I walk along a dirt path that leads back to his house. My clothes are mostly dry, but I only slipped on my pants, not feeling quite comfortable enough to walk through his neighborhood just wearing his shirt and my shoes. My own shirt and the towel we’d been sharing are draped over Nate’s right arm. His left arm is wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me close to his side.

The walk is pleasant; the air is fresh and cool and the crickets are chirping. It’s a beautiful night made even more beautiful because of the man beside me. When we finally make it to his house, Nate pushes open the back gate, locking it behind us. He puts his hand on the small of my back as he leads me up the stairs to the back porch. The rickety old slats creak as we walk across them.

“I’m going to replace this in the spring,” he says.

“The wood?”

“The whole thing. I’m going to build it out a bit, so there’s room for a grill and a table, a place to have a little get together.”

“I think that’ll be nice,” I say as he reaches for the screen door’s handle.

I step over the threshold and into the kitchen. Even though I knew that Nate has been fixing the place up, I’m surprised by how nice it is in here. I’m not sure why I half-expected him to have questionable taste, just because he’s a single guy. There are pristine cherry cabinets, stainless steel appliances, beautiful granite countertops. It’s nice but kind of sterile, and not very Nate. The place doesn’t have any personal touches; it doesn’t look lived in.

This house
smells
like him though, like his arms are wrapped around me and my face is buried in his neck. I close my eyes and take a deep, deep breath.

“You did all this?” I ask, turning to my right and splaying my hands out on top of the granite.

Nate walks up behind me, pressing his chest against my back. I gasp, not really expecting that from him, but I relax into him seconds later. He pushes my hair to the side—over my shoulder—giving him access to my neck, where he kisses and licks his way across my skin. I’ve missed this feeling so much. And he’s hard already, I can feel it. Unfortunately for him I’m in the mood to tease him tonight.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums, the vibration tickling my ear, making me shiver.

He lifts his shirt off of me and throws it onto the floor; then he wraps his arms around my waist, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of my pants. I don’t have any underwear on; I’d taken them off to dry by the fire. I suck in a deep breath at the ticklish sensation his fingers leave in their wake, then he slides them down, down between my legs until I gasp.

“You need some-” my breath hitches, “accessories in here,” I manage to say, kind of panting. This is moving a little faster than I intended it to, which…I don’t know what I expected because we haven’t seen each other in three weeks. Nate reaches around and gently rolls my nipple between his fingers as he simultaneously pulls me back against him, my ass grinding into his erection. I give it a little shake for retribution.

“Fuck,” he sighs, his breath hot on my shoulder as he peppers kisses there.

“Don’t worry,” I say breathlessly, pretending he’s talking about kitchen decor. “I’ll help you pick out some things.”

I turn around and stand on my tiptoes, making me just tall enough to reach his lips when he dips his head. I pull him close, pressing my bare chest to his, enjoying the little noises he makes as we kiss. The teasing part of my plan is quickly disintegrating, so I pull away from him, eliciting a groan.

“Show me more,” I say, leading him into the next room. I walk backwards through the door, making sure Nate gets a good view of my chest while I stay just out of his reach.

We walk into the living room-slash-dining room, which is just as nice as the kitchen with its impeccable paint and glossy hardwood floors. But again, there’s nothing Nate about the place. “This is nice,” I say kindly. “But you need a throw on your sofa to break up all of that color. And you need some pictures. Lots of pictures.”

Nate could not give a shit about what I’m telling him right now, but he plays along anyway. “Pictures of us,” he says, firmly gripping my hips and picking me up. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, then kiss every inch of skin I can get my lips on. Screw the teasing, just…screw it.

I’m only aware that Nate’s walking because I feel a breeze on my back as we move, but soon enough I’m pressed against a wall, and the look in Nate’s eyes is straight-up predatory. He slides his hands up the insides of my arms, pinning my wrists above my head. Then his mouth and tongue are on my breasts, and my head clunks back against the wall.

“Do you…” Kiss. “Like…” Lick. “The paint?”

My head lolls to the side, because what color is this paint again? Oh yeah, blue. Placing my hands just above his ears, I tilt his head up and capture his mouth with mine. “Yes,” I tell him between kisses. “It reminds me of your eyes.”

He leans back, looking kind of surprised.

“It does,” I say, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertip. “I love your eyes.”

He smiles softly, and I can’t help but kiss those lips. Those beautiful, soft, perfect lips. It’s deeper than I expected, needier, and when I pull away, Nate pulls my bottom lip through his teeth. I slide down his body a little, bucking my hips into his when I feel the hardness there, making him grunt. Once my feet are on the floor, I walk over to the staircase.

“Is the bedroom up here?” I ask.

He nods, somehow managing to make that simple gesture look sexy as hell.

I take the first few steps alone, sliding my hand along the bannister. “You need some light in here,” I tell him, stopping to look at the beautiful paisley pattern that decorates the throw rug on the landing of the stairs. He closes the distance between us quickly—he must take two or three steps at a time—and the next thing I know he’s gripping my waist and turning my body, bringing me down so that I’m sitting on the step just before the landing. He pulls off one shoe and then the other, tossing them away. They make loud ‘thunks’ as they bounce down the steps.

He slowly tugs on the cuffs of my pants until they slide off my thighs and down my calves, slipping off of my ankles. He throws those down the steps, too. Then he kneels before me a few steps down, spreading my legs. He buries his head between my thighs, licking me like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, like he just can’t get enough. And I love it when he does this, I really do. It’s difficult to tell him no and I’m crazy to do it, but I need more than this right now. I need
him
, no more teasing.

“Nate,” I say softly, and he knows something is different by the tone of my voice. I skim my fingers through his hair, bringing my hand to rest just above his ear. He looks at me, his hands still. “I want you. I want to be with you, can we just…”

“Yeah,” he replies, understanding. He moves so he’s kind of leaning over me, and he presses his lips against my shoulder. “Yeah.”

Afraid that I’ve taken us out of the moment, I wrap my arm around his neck and bring him down for a slow, tender kiss.

When we part, Nate sighs, breathing heavily. “Yeah, let’s definitely do more of that.” He picks me up and carries me up the steps, laving his tongue against every inch of skin he can reach. Once he lays me on his soft bed, he slides his shorts down his hips and I take a moment to appreciate him like this. Bare and vulnerable. Beautiful. Mine.

He kneels on the bed, lifting my legs until the bottoms of my feet come to rest against his chest. It reminds me a bit of the first night we were together, but everything is different now. Everything is better now, because this…this is the beginning of our lives together. His palms glide down my thighs, his fingertips are feather-light and ticklish; I can’t help but laugh.

“Do that again,” he says, smiling. It’s a dopey, love-struck kind of smile. I wish I could take a picture of it and put it in my wallet.

“What?”

“Laugh, it’s-”

“You want me to laugh?”

He looks bashful. “Yeah. It makes me…I don’t know, just do it again.”

I do laugh this time, and it’s a real one, mainly because I don’t know what he’s getting at.

He must sense my confusion, because he says, “I like your voice.” He shrugs, and it’s kind of sweet how innocent he looks, despite the fact that he’s stark naked.

“Nate,” I say, reaching out for him and tangling our fingers together. I pull him down, but he holds his weight above me. “I love you.” If he likes my voice, I can’t think of nicer, truer words for him to hear it say.

“I love you so much,” he replies, just breathing the words on my skin, like they’ll become a part of me that way.

I smile, cradling the back of his head, and he pushes into me slowly, just watching me for a few seconds like he always does. He begins to move when I buck my hips, and for a few seconds we just kind of drift away together. I’ve never felt anything like him before, and I don’t just mean this. I mean
him
. Everything about him. The weight of his gaze, the way his words sink right into my skin and take hold of my heart. Everything about him feels so perfect. So permanent.

I gently nudge Nate’s shoulder and he rolls onto his back. I swing my leg over until I’m straddling his hips, then I sink down onto him, grinding against him, watching the way his eyelids flutter shut and his breathing picks up because we feel so,
so
good together. Pure pleasure is building up inside of me, radiating from pretty much every part of my body, almost indistinguishable from the rush of love that I feel for this man. I’m just all blissed out, light and airy, all warmth and anticipation.

I clasp Nate’s hands in mine and lean forward, pressing my body against his.

“Hold onto me,” Nate says, his voice raspy as he sits up. He slides his hands down my back and along my thighs, positioning me so that I’m sitting on him, my legs wrapped around him, so tight. There’s not an inch of air between us, but he’s still too far away. I want to be close enough to be a part of him. I want my name to be written on every cell in his body. Our chests are pressed together and it almost hurts to breathe, but it’s still. Too. Far.

We rock against one another and Nate’s hands are splayed across my back, anchoring me to him. Tighter, I want to tell him. Hold me tighter. I want his fingertips branded into my skin. His cheek is pressed against mine and his stubble is rough, but I want more.
More
.

“I can’t get close enough,” he says, his voice muffled as he presses his mouth to my neck. “To you, I…”

“Shhh,” I whisper. “I’m here, I’m right here.” I kiss the salty sheen from his skin, holding on for dear life as everything inside of me coils up and springs open, over and over, leaving me boneless and breathless. Nate isn’t far behind me, letting out this strangled moan as his orgasm washes over him and my name falls from his lips. We hold each other as we come down, his hands tangled in my hair and mine drawing lazy patterns on his back. It’s nice just holding each other, just being.

Eventually we collapse on the bed, our arms wrapped around each other as we doze off, exhausted from pretty much everything that’s happened today.

I wake up in his arms a few hours later. It’s dark outside, but the bedside lamp is on, casting a dull light across the room. Nate must’ve turned that on at some point after I fell asleep. For the first time since I’ve been here, I get a good look at this room. It’s a lot like his room in Virginia; same colors, same earthiness. More photos of waterfalls and rivers, of mountains and ski slopes. Maybe it’s a reminder of home? I notice there’s a photo on the nightstand, on the far side of the bed. Careful not to wake him, I reach over and pick it up. As I snuggle up against his chest, I hold the picture above me because I just can’t take my eyes off of it.

It’s the photo of the two of us dancing at the wedding. The same one I couldn’t stop looking at on my laptop. There’s something sweet and comforting knowing that he liked it enough to get a print of it. That it meant enough to him to put it next to his bed.

“That one’s my favorite,” he says, sliding his fingertips across my upper arm.

I turn my head and look up at him, smiling. “Mine too.”

He reaches out and presses the edge between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe I should frame it and put it downstairs.”

“No,” I say thoughtfully, placing it back on the nightstand. “I think it belongs up here.”

He sighs. “Okay,” he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “So, I’ve never had redecoration foreplay before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

I giggle as I brush my lips across the skin above his heart. “I think we’ll have a lot of firsts together. Foreplay aside, this place could use a feminine touch.” I gasp almost immediately, totally not meaning to imply the thing that I just implied. That
I
should be the feminine touch. “I didn’t mean-”

Nate presses his finger against my lips. “Don’t. I was kind of hoping you’d stay.”

“I brought a few weeks’ worth of clothes. At least I think I did, I was in kind of a hurry when I packed.”

“We can get you new clothes,” he says, twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers.

I prop myself up on my elbow so I can get a good look at Nate’s face. It’s gorgeous as always, and he’s smiling at me like I’m as bright as the sun. “How long did you want me to stay?”