Page 174 of Boyfriend of the Hour
The hand at my waist traveled up my back, tracing the groove of my spine with those dexterous fingers. We whirled around again, but this time, he kept me pressed to his chest.
“Everything,” Nathan murmured, so low I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear it.
But I had heard. And it took my breath away.
The song ended, and we broke apart just enough for our eyes to meet. Nathan’s hand at my back kept me close while he peered down at me, brown eyes fathomless, immeasurably deep.
“Joni,” he said. “I…”
“Yes?” I asked.
This time, I could feel it. A word, deep in my heart. One I’d never said to anyone. Not Shawn. Not any other short-term boyfriend or lover or whatever you’d call them. Not a one.
But I wanted to say it to him. This peculiar man, with his quiet ways and particular rules and shy looks. Four letters. One syllable. Barely a sound at all.
Love.
Nathan opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly, like he was overcome with whatever he was feeling, he took my face and kissed me.
It was a new kiss. One I’d certainly never experienced. Gentle and rough at the same time, insistent in its pressure yet questioning in its depth. His tongue touched mine, and I opened for him right there on the dance floor, clutching his lapels, uncaring about the people around us.
Would you love me?the kiss seemed to ask.Would you love me if I loved you?
Yes, I wanted to cry.I already do.
When our mouths finally broke, another song was playing—a rendition of the Charleston that had at least a few people breaking out the familiar moves.
I smiled, stuck in place. My heart was thumping, my hands still in a death grip on Nathan’s jacket, my eyes unable to move from his swollen lips and the sight of his pink tongue peeking between them.
More. I wanted more.
And like any addict, I was going to get it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he brushed a strand of hair out of my face, then cupped my cheek. “Christ, Joni, I…” He glanced down to where his own need was somewhat apparent against my leg.
I nearly bit my lip through.
“I don’t…” I whispered as I gripped his jacket tighter. “I don’t think I can wait until we get home.”
At first, he didn’t respond, but when the meaning behind my words sunk in, Nathan’s eyes popped open. “Oh.”
I smiled. “Oh.”
He glanced around. “But…where would we…”
“Nathan.” I pulled his attention back to me. “Your family is the biggest donor in a room full of very big donors. I assume you can find one private room the museum would be willing to let us use, right?”
He swallowed and tugged at his collar. “I—yes.Yes.” Then something appeared to occur to him. “Come with me.”
THIRTY-FIVE
MY FAVORITE CONSTELLATIONS
#8 O Ryan becuz he would win a fight.
Nathan Hunt was a man on a mission.
My hand clenched firmly in his, he led me out of the room at a pace that forced me to almost jog behind him. He ignored people calling his name, the appreciative stares of both womenandmen,
