Page 43 of Hold Me Today

My hands snake around his solid form. “You’re hugging me.”

“I’m keeping you warm,” he returns stiffly. “It’s an exchange of body heat.”

Sure it is. “Are you using me, Nick?” I palm his back, rubbing in small circles. His muscles leap under my touch, like each tendon is vying for attention.

“Ti?” The Greek word forwhatslips off his tongue.

I bite back a grin. “You bundled me all up, coat and all, and wanted to go on a walk. You’re only in a T-shirt. I’m thinking you wanted an excuse to hug me. You could have just asked, you know. I wouldn’t say no.”

His hold on me tightens. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Am I?”

“Naí.”Yes.

I plop my chin on his chest and look up at him. He’s already staring down at me, his gray eyes wide, though they appear completely black in the evening light. “Then why did you want to take this walk?”

A tick bursts to life in his jaw. “I wanted to check on how you’re feeling—after the migraine. I haven’t seen you much this week.”

His concern for me sparks warmth throughout my body, but it’s not enough to put me off my intended course. We’ve exchanged emails all week. Platonic, simple emails—emails that never once indicated that I had his erection a hair’s breadth away from my face.

That he got hard forme.

Talk about dirty dreams coming true. If I weren’t so frustrated that he seems content to never mention it again, I’d feel like I won the lottery.

“Nick.”

He draws in a sharp breath. “Yeah?”

“The migraine’s gone. It never lasts longer than twenty-four hours.”

A heartbeat of silence. “Glad to hear it.”

I bury my nose in the hard planes of his chest. “Nick?”

“Ermione.”

I’m prepared for this to blow up in my face. One hard dick does not take the fake out of our relationship. He’s still overhauling my salon, and I’m still pretending—if he needs me—to love up on him when or if the media cares to pay him any attention.

But I have to know.

Ihaveto know what the hell he was thinking about when he stood next to my bed and got the hard-on to rival all hard-ons.

“Mina?” My name’s a question on his lips, and it hangs there between us. Waiting for me to make a move.

So, I do.

“Earlier this week, when you came to my apartment . . .” Oh, God, here goes nothing. “You were hard.”

Nick goes unnaturally still in my arms.

I squeeze my eyes shut and rip the proverbial bandage off. “I was drugged up on meds for the migraine, but I remember everything. I thought, maybe, you might bring it up this week. You never did.” I hear him curse under his breath, and I shore up the last of my confidence. “You were hard, Nick, and I want to know why.”

15

Nick

You were hard, Nick.

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