Page 86 of Between the Lines

“Hey there, stranger. Mind letting me in? It’s kind of chilly out here.”

She says it all with a smile, and I step to the side. She toes off her shoes and places them next to mine on the mat, and something surges within me at the picture of her small shoes next to mine in my space.

I don’t linger on that for too long, because as I follow her into the kitchen, I notice the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. My cock twitches, and I have to will it down, because the last time I had her in my arms, we were so close to the finish line that I could feel the tape at my fingertips.

“Are you sure you’re okay cooking tonight? I don’t mind being in charge in the kitchen.”

She says it with a smirk, fingering the ingredients I’ve spaced out on my countertop in correct measurement and order already. I have to will my dick to stand down at the thought of Clairebeing in charge, but the rest of my will doesn’t follow. I close the space between us and cup the side of her head, so small in the palm of my hand that I have to stifle a grunt.

But suddenly, at the feel of her skin on mine, just like it had yesterday in the hall, my resolve melts away, and my heartbeat seems to stutter for a fraction before syncing up with her pulse. All of the dirty things my mind just concocted slip away, and in its place comes out, “I’ve missed you.”

I think we’re both stunned. Her, that I’ve said it at all. Me, that I’ve said it aloud. I didn’t even realize that truth until my heart let it slip off my tongue in an exhale of relief.

She squeezes my forearm, pinches a smile and breathes a soft, “Me too.”

We’re silent while I cook dinner. We haven’t addressed the two weeks of silence other than to admit we both hated it, but I feel like neither of us wants to touch that subject yet. Not when we have each other again for the time being. As she watches me cook, her eyes are full of desire, beneath smoky hooded lids that do little to quell the aching in my chest for her.

I had no intentions of making tonight about sex with Claire. I hadeveryintention of seeing her, making her smile, and asking her every question I’ve been storing up over the days we’ve missed—another symptom of having a crush, I presume. We head to the study, after I’ve changed into sweats while she does the dishes—at her insistence—and that all changes.

She stops in the doorway, her manucure-less hand going to her chest.

“What’s… Nathan.”

My name rolls off her tongue in breathy disbelief as she takes in the bottles of nail polish and other manicure supplies I purchased. I press my front to her back, and rest my chin on her shoulder.

“You said that you didn’t have the time or the money to get a manicure. I’ve noticed that your nails usually match the holidays, so I picked a few Christmas colors, but had some of your in between palates as a back up.”

Claire always has her nails painted. If the problem is time and money, I can fix that.

My hands find her hips, and I pull her flush against me before wrapping my arms around her lithe frame, feeling something settle into place when she relaxes instantly against me. I tilt my head, nuzzling my nose along the column of her neck, and find her pulse racing. Her breath hitches, and suddenly, she turns in my arms.

“You bought me nail polish.”

I nod. “Yes.”

“And you keep herbal tea in your pantry, even though I’m the only one who drinks it.”

“I technically drink it.”

She shakes her head.

“And, if I’m not mistaken, I saw an unopened bag of gummy bears in the pantry when you sent me in there earlier for salt.”

“You are not mistaken.”

Her eyes brim with tears, but only for a moment, before a fire washes them away.

“For God’s sake, Nathan, take me to bed already.”

thirty-six

claire

That sounded way sexierin my head. The stunned expression that melts over Nathan’s face sharply contrasts the press of his thickening erection against my belly. I sigh softly, pressing up on my toes to trace the tip of my nose against his.

“Please?”

I tack it onto the end, hoping that makes my request sound less desperate—which is stupid, because it actually makes me soundten times more desperate.

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