Page 45 of Broken-Hearted

“It wasn’t just scratching the itch,” I blurt out.

Something in his gaze shifts. “What wasn’t?”

“The motel room. I said it to push you away, but I didn’t mean it.” I shift from foot to foot, awkward and embarrassed. “I, uh, have a tendency to lash out at people when they try to get me to talk about things I’d rather avoid. Ask Martha. She once threw a shoe at my head.”

That same flicker of emotion returns. When it lingers, I read what it is: relief, tinged with amusement. “A shoe?”

I nod. “It was the only thing close by. And I totally deserved it for being a bitch.”

“Ah.” He tilts his head, still studying me. “I hoped that was what the motel room was about, but I wasn’t sure.”

I struggle to look him in the eye when I ask, “So, am I forgiven for being a bitch?”

Martha gets me, but Nathan might not. I’m not sure why I’m holding my breath as I wait for his response. But this feels very important to me. So important I couldn’t go to sleep.

“There’s nothing to forgive, peach. You weren’t so much being a bitch as being guarded, and that’s okay. I get it.” He holds out his palm. “Friends?”

After a beat, I take it, squeezing his hand. “Friends. And peach?” My eyes narrow as I hide my smileandmy relief. “You’re asking for trouble for that nickname, Blackshaw.”

His eyes dip to my lips. “What kind of trouble?”

I recall how good it felt being with him in the motel room. Not just sleeping together. The after part as well. His arm around me. The way he was drawing circles at the base of my spine as I dozed off before I said something I didn’t mean and ruined it.

Is he thinking of the same thing as well from the heat in his gaze? Is he also wishing it hadn’t been a one time thing like I am?

“If we were to sleep with each other again, it wouldn’t mean anything, would it?” I ask.

“No,” he says, stepping forward. “Just us having fun.”

“Should we, uh, count down like before?” I suggest.

I don’t count down. Neither does he. We lunge at each other.

I’m in his arms a split second later, our lips fused together.

“But after this no more,” I break the kiss to say.

“Just once more, and we call it quits.” He reclaims my lips.

I will never know how we make it back to the cabin without Nathan tripping or walking into a tree when we spend most of the walk with our lips glued together.

I fumble to get the cabin door open as he pushes my T-shirt up.

We don’t time things well. At all.

I shove the door open as he presses me against the door, apparently too impatient for us to get inside. Obviously, the door is no longer there because I just shoved it open.

We tip. He spins us so his back is what smacks into the floor, not mine.

I break the kiss, concerned. “Blackshaw?”

He strokes his hand under my shirt and pulls me down. “I’m good. Come here.”

We don’t make it to bed the first time. Good thing no one stops by the cabin because we don’t even remember to close the door.

We fight to get each other’s clothes off and I straddle Nathan on the cabin floor as he does the sexy growl I have grown addicted to.

After that?

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