Page 82 of Away With You
He leans back in his chair, taking a long sip from his beer bottle in a way that is so sexy it should be illegal.Who knew a throat moving like that could get me all hot and bothered?
“You don’t cook?”
I huff. “You saw my groceries. It’s all sad microwave meals for one and ramen noodles. I was too busy studying to learn how to cook.”
He tilts his gorgeous head. “Isn’t it just about reading a recipe and following along?”
“You would think so.” I throw my hands up, a familiar frustration rushing over me. “I’m a scientist. I follow protocols every day. There’s just something about translating it to the kitchen that doesn’t compute with me. And it’s a shame, really, because I love to eat.”
“I had noticed that,” he smirks.
“Okay, big shot. Can you cook?”
He rubs his hand over his jaw and up to ruffle the hair on the back of his head. A contemplative gesture. “I like to cook, and I think I’m pretty good at it. It’s just that I’m not home long enough to make it a thing.”
“Your travel schedule is pretty brutal, hey?” It’s something that’s been on my mind as our relationship has tip-toed from fake to something more.How is this going to work in the real world? When we leave the magic of St. Lucia behind?
He takes another long sip and sighs. “Yeah. In the beginning, I loved it. I got to travel the world and be a part of a Formula 1 team. It was a literal dream come true. And don’t get me wrong, I still love it. I still crave it. But it’s not sustainable. You’ve seen it with Nicky. He’s choosing to go out on top because he’s found someone he wants to stand still with.”
My heart pinches. “Have you ever found someone like that?”
His eyes sweep over me, slowly, like a long caress. “I think I have.”
I lean forward, my heart thumping now as I stare into his pretty eyes. “Nathan, what are we doing?”
He leans forward, mimicking my pose, his lips within kissing distance. “If you need to ask, then I haven’t done a good job making my intentions clear.”
I lick my dry lips, and he inches ever closer. “Your actions have,” I say, itching to ask about last night but not wanting to ruin the moment. “But I’m a woman of words. I need to know that what we’re doing now is real.”
His hand wraps around my ponytail, and he pulls me in, our lips connecting in an explosion of electricity. His kiss is leisurely, like he’s tasting me, teasing me before he deepens it. I follow along, a mere passenger swept away in the moment, in this man, in the way he worships my mouth.
“I know you want words, Kitty Kat.” His voice is hoarse. “But that kiss should tell you everything. This is real. It’s always been real.”
My brain gives up fighting this and I grab his shirt and shift him so his body is next to mine, sinking into his warm, solid body and exhaling what feels like years of loneliness from my lungs.
He wants me.This is real.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Yes?”
My breath hitches at the satisfaction gleaming on his face. “Yeah, this is real.”
We sit in a contented silence, watching the steel-drum band do its thing along with the carnival-inspired dancers. It’s another spectacle I try to commit to memory, taking dozens of photos to remember it by.
“Hey, Kitty Kat. Can I ask you something?”
I raise an eyebrow at the hesitancy in his tone. “Sure.”
“Is there a reason you don’t drink? Alcohol?” He bites his lip, eyebrows drawn down like he’s worried he’s taken a misstep.
“I’m surprised you took so long to ask.” I point to my half-empty glass of tropical fruit punch. Not drinking is something that comes easy to me, but it seems to baffle others. Like I can’t be a fully functioning grown-up if I don’t have a glass of wine at the end of a long day. Those people clearly haven’t experienced the wonders of a perfect cup of tea.
“I didn’t know if it was something you’d want to talk about,” he admits with a sheepish shrug.
My stomach knots, and I take a deep breath. “My mum died of liver cancer.”
He inhales swiftly, pulling me closer and tucking me under the safety of his muscular arm. “You don’t need to talk about it.”
