Page 102 of Romancing the Grump
Not after that kiss.
I could write poetry about that kiss.
I probablywillwrite poetry about that kiss.
Bad poetry that no one will ever read. But poetry, just the same.
Nathan kissed me like heownedme. Like I was the object of his every desire. Like he could not get enough.
Now I knowfor surethat he was holding back whenever we kissed in public. Those kisses were amazing—it’s Nathan, after all—but they were survivable.
This one—there’s no going back. Nathan has claimed me body and soul. I’ve been living on a cliffside, teetering near the edge with only the smallest tethers holding me back. But when I saw him standing behind Jason with fire in his eyes, when I stepped into his arms and felt an utter certainty that I would always be safe there, those tethers snapped clean in half, and I went plummeting.
Forget ninety percent.
I’ve completely fallen for this man. Inexplicably. Maybeeven cosmically, which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, and I still mean it.
Nathan’s teammates file past us, offering me tentative smiles and encouraging glances. It really was sweet the way they all supported him…supportedme.
As soon as we’re alone, Nathan takes a hesitant step forward. “Summer, I’m—” His words cut off, and he rubs a hand down his beard, shaking his head as he presses his lips into a tight frown.
I hurry toward him, closing the gap between us. I’m tempted to throw myself into his arms, but uncertainty keeps me from following through. That kiss is the closest we’ve ever come to admitting our feelings out loud. Now, I’m not sure how to react.
“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him. “You didn’t have to do that, but I really appreciate that you did.”
His expression softens, and tension eases out of his shoulders. “I thought you were mad.”
I shake my head. “I’ve been dealing with him for two years. It was nice to have someone else carry the baton for a minute.” I wrap my arms around my middle, shivering against the cold. I came outside in such a hurry, I didn’t think to grab my jacket.
Wordlessly, Nathan shrugs out of his hoodie, which is totally ridiculous because he’s only wearing a thin t-shirt underneath. He gently slides it over my head, holding the bottom open while I slip my arms into the sleeves. It completely swallows me, but I’m not about to complain. It smells like clean laundry with hints of balsam and cedarwood, but there’s a slight musk to it too—something manly and intoxicating and uniquely Nathan. If testosterone had a smell, I’m pretty sure this would be it, and I am here for it.
“You’re going to get cold,” I whisper to Nathan.
“Better me than you,” he says softly.
“You’ve been sick,” I say. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“Summer, I play hockey,” he says, his tone light. “If the cold made me sick, I’d be sick all the time. Keep it. I promise I’m warm enough.”
I nod as I step closer. I think of Lucy’s challenge to be brave, to own my feelings, and I take a stuttering breath as I reach out and take his hands. “So…that kiss,” I say, giving his fingers a squeeze. “That was different, right?” I swallow against the knot forming in my throat. “We’re supposed to admit it. If we’re feeling anything real, we have to say so. Those were the rules.”
I look up to see Nathan’s eyes closed. His entire body is tense, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t seem angry, just…restrained.Like he’s holding himself back, and it’s taking every ounce of his energy and focus to do it.
I lift a hand to his face, sliding my thumb over his beard. “Nathan,” I whisper.
He opens his eyes, and for once, they’re completely unguarded, his desire for me so raw, so readily apparent that it takes my breath away.
“Please don’t fight this,” I say. I tilt my face up and brush my lips against his, tentatively at first, but then his body softens, melting into me as I deepen the kiss. My hands slide through his hair until I clasp my fingers behind his neck and lean even closer, our bodies flush.
His broad hands slide from my hips up to my back, and I let out a low whimper as his tongue brushes against mine. When his hands move to cradle my face, his fingertips pressing against my skin with gentle firmness, the kiss shifts. Before this moment, I was kissing Nathan. I asked and he answered, his body moving in rhythm with mine. But now,he’s the one steering this ship, and I happily surrender control.
There’s an old Chevy truck parked directly beside us—old enough that it doesnothave a car alarm.
Which is important because Nathan slides his hands over my hips and down to my thighs, then he hoists me up, spinning us until I’m sitting on the hood of the truck, all without breaking the kiss. He steps into the space between my knees, and I lean into him.
“You made that look way too easy,” I say against his lips. The man might be a professional athlete, but I’m not exactly a petite person. The realization that he could still toss me over his shoulder triggers a new pulse of longing deep in my gut.
We fall back into it, kissing as my hands move over his shoulders, his arms, sliding over his chilled skin, brushing under the hem of his sleeves to curve around his biceps.
