you think you might feel
the same way I do?”
I’ve been staring down at my lap, but now I suddenly look up
to see his face. “I love you.”
“I know you do.”
“I…I’m really attracted to you. I never admitted it before,
but I am.”
His expression softens with something strong—maybe relief.
“Good.”
“I really liked what we did last night.”
He leans forward slightly, his eyes holding mine. “Me too.”
“I’m scared.”
His lips are just a breath away from mine. “Me too.”
He presses his mouth against mine, and my lips soften and
then open for him. The kiss deepens as he pushes forward, taking my head in
both of his hands. Pleasure and excitement and absolute trust rush through my
body with my blood.
Because this is Nate. And he’s everything he’s ever been to
me. And so much more that I’ve never dreamed of.
After a few minutes, we end up lying on the bed together.
He’s still kissing me gently, and I’m running my hands over his back. I love
the feel of it—firm and smooth and lean and strong.
He’s smiling as he rolls off me. I’m on my back, and he’s on
his side. I’m not really ready for the embrace to end, so I turn my head and
lean forward so I can kiss him again.
He keeps smiling as he kisses me back.
“Stop smiling,” I say, for no good reason, since I feel like
smiling too.
“I can’t.”
“You’re making me self-conscious.”
His hand has been resting on my hip, and now it slides up,
stroking over my belly until he’s cupping one breast over my thin top. “I’m
sure you’ll work through it.”
He’s confident now, and I realize it’s because he’s assured
himself that our changing feelings aren’t going to end up tearing us apart.
That’s given me confidence too.
I gasp as he gently thumbs my nipple.
His smile widens, and his eyes crawl hungrily over my body
and flushed face. “You have no idea how much and how long I’ve wanted to do
this.”
“Touch my boob?”
He chokes on a laugh and leans forward to capture my lips
again. Just before he does, he murmurs, “That and many more things.”
So then the kiss deepens—a lot. He slowly undresses me, and
I pull back down his pants, and he’s hard and I’m pliant as he enters me again.
This time, we’re as slow as we were urgent and rushed last night, and we rock
together rhythmically, leisurely, and we’re kissing each other the whole time.
I don’t come this time. Our motion is too slow and soft, but
nothing has ever felt better than being with Nate like this, touching him,
stroking him, kissing him, giving myself to him completely, knowing he’s loving
me with everything that’s in him to love.
It feels real this time—more real than it did last night.
I wrap my legs around him as his motion finally speeds up,
becoming jerky and uneven. He’s panting against my neck as I feel his body
tighten deliciously and then feel the tension release in waves that make him
moan.
We hug each other for a long time afterward, and the last of
my doubts fades away.
When he finally rolls off me, I’m smiling.
He slants me a questioningly look. “What?” he asks.
I shake my head, unable to stop smiling.
“You’re making me self-conscious now.”
“Good,” I say, giving him a soft, playful swat on the chest.
“Now you know how I felt earlier.” After a moment then, I admit, “I’m just
happy.”
He smiles then too, warmth and joy and understanding
palpable in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it. I plan to keep making you happy—for
as long as you’ll let me.”
A shiver of delight overwhelms me, but I manage to say in an
impressively dry voice, “But I don’t want you to think we’ll be spending the day
in bed together.”
He arches his eyebrows. “We won’t?”
“No. We only have a few more days here, and we’ve got a lot
to see. So today we’ll need to go to Chawton to see all the Jane Austen stuff
there, and tomorrow we’ll go to Bath.”
He laughs, low and
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