Page 49 of Broken-Hearted

Now that he mentions it, my stomachisgrumbling in response to a yummy savory scent in the air.

I lift my head.

Nathan claims a kiss and gets to his feet, crossing over to the kitchen/dining room part of my cabin. And on the table is breakfast.

My eyes widen in surprise. “You made breakfast?”

“A man knows romance has to start the right way. How about a run in the forest followed by a picnic? I might even be tempted to let you win.”

I hesitate. “And if I don’t want romance?”

He walks over to me, expression impossible to read. He drops into a crouch and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, leaning in to give me an impossibly sweet kiss. “You’ll want romance from me.”

I scowl at him, but it’s all fake. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to see exactly what this romance entails. “You sound pretty damn sure of yourself, Blackshaw.”

“I am.”

I take in the amiable smile on his face and sense he’s concealing a world of stubborn determination.

I sit up. “Fine. Let’s see how Nathan Blackshaw romances a woman.”

No sooner am I on my feet than he’s stepping in close, his arm around my waist and his brown eyes glinting with the determination I thought he was hiding from me. “Correction. How Nathan Blackshaw romances Clara Vincent.”

My mouth is dry. “And is it so very different to anyone else?”

“It is.”

He releases me, pulling his shirt off, which briefly distracts me.

“Arms up,” he softly orders.

I rarely respond well to orders. I’ve always liked to do things my own way, but Nathan’s soft order?

I lift my arms.

One corner of his lips kicks up in a grin. “I was expecting an elbow jab.”

“I like to keep you on your toes, Blackshaw.”

He flashes me a grin and slips his shirt over my head, kissing me and leads me over to the table for breakfast.

I sit in his lap because, according to Nathan, each bite during a romantic breakfast should come with a kiss after.

Honestly, it just leads to a cold breakfast.

It also leads to one of those kisses distracting me so badly that I forget about breakfast. So does Nathan because he lifts me enough to shove his pants down and I ride him at the breakfast table until we both come.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says, out of breath, with one hand splayed low on my back as I slump against his chest.

“Really?” I snuggle against him, wishing we could go back to bed.

“Really. Come on. Let's go for this walk, peach.”

I loop my arms around his shoulders and meet his gaze. “And if I wanted to work out in other horizontal ways?”

One long stare and he sighs. “I’ve created a sex-crazed monster.”

I growl at him.

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