Page 68 of Away With You
I stand on my tippy toes, pushing up into him, gripping his shirt in my hands. The kiss is intense, hard lips and open mouths, and I forget where I am, who I am, why I am. Right now, I only exist to kiss Nathan Jackson.
“So freaking irresistible,” he mutters against my lips, drawing back to pull in some air.
I remain unmoving, my face turned up to his, my eyes closed in wonder. I’ve been kissed before, but never like this. Never have I wanted the entire world to just disappear so I can stay kissing forever.
“Kitty Kat?” Nathan’s voice is rough, and I reluctantly open my eyes, not wanting to let go of the moment.
“Yeah?” I breathe out, eyes locked with his.
“Was that okay?”
I giggle softly. “I’d say it was more than okay.”
He smiles, his dimple flashing, and I force my hands to unclench his shirt, smoothing down the wrinkles my hungryfists have caused and absolutely not revelling in the hard chest underneath it. His eyes move from mine, flickering behind me, his gleeful grin falling from his face.
“What is it?” I turn to see what’s caused his face to change. “Oh.”
Victoria is standing a few feet from us, her narrowed eyes glued to us. To where Nathan’s hands are gripping my hips. A wave of uneasiness crashes over me.Had he kissed me to make her jealous? Was any of it real? And why, when I know this is the whole reason that I’m here this week—the whole reason we practised kissing before we even got here—does it feel wrong for Nathan to kiss me for any reason other than he can’t not kiss me?
“She looks upset?” I venture, turning back and trying to read his mind. His jaw is clenched, that soft, languid look gone from his eyes. “Do you want to go speak to her?”
He draws himself up and away from me, running a hand through his hair, the only outward sign of his inner turmoil.
“I’m good.” His words are clipped, his tone curt, and I nibble on my bottom lip, unsure what to do—or say—next. “Let’s get a drink.”
I follow behind him, grateful when he stops and takes my hand, feeling an unsteadiness that has nothing to do with the yacht rocking gently under my feet. For one second there, one glorious second, I’d been sure I was kissing a man who wanted to kiss me. Now? I’m not sure it wasn’t all for show.
We head back downstairs, and I distract myself by fan-girling over the crowd of people here on this boat with us today. Last night I had been too distracted playing the role of triumphant new girlfriend to notice the calibre of people attending this wedding week celebration, but if I’m not mistaken, standing right there, eating what looks like a sausage roll, is the Crown Princess of Denmark.
Like, seriously?
“Is your family like some kind of royalty?” I ask Nathan, accepting a tall glass of tropical juice made fancy with a little pink umbrella.
His eyebrow quirks. “Why do you ask?”
I survey the space around me, fully taking in the yacht for the first time. In my life, like most people, I’ve not been exposed to such luxury, and the only reference point I have for the size and grandeur of the yacht we’re milling about on is from watchingSuccession. And we all know the Roy family was rich. Likerichy, rich.
“Um, I guess I never thought about it. You’ve always been Nathan, the guy who stole my Jaffa cakes at school and who drives an innocuous Range Rover. That doesn’t scream rich in the way that all of this does.” I wave my hand around, all of a sudden thinking about what all this means. The gold frosted champagne glasses, the ladies dripping in diamonds, the designer wearing every person. This isn’t your average wealthy person's wedding; this is the next level.
Gosh, why hadn’t I thought about this until now?
“First, I love Jaffa cakes, and my mother refused to keep them in the house. So, you did me a great service. And second, how dare you insult my Range Rover like that?” His eyes twinkle to show he’s not really insulted, but he’s also not answering my question.
“Nathan.” I tug on his arm to get his full attention. “Tell me.”
He sighs. “I mean, we’re not proper royalty. But my dad is a distant relative of the King and has some wanky title to go with it. It’s no big deal. We didn’t get any money from it; my dad inherited the family business from his dad, who inherited it from his dad. And as first-born son, George will one day take over from him. It’s the sort of generational wealth that breedsinsufferable people. People I’ve spent most of life trying not to emulate.”
I absorb what he’s saying. Noble titles, old money, family business, first-born son. It really is likeSuccession. So where does that leave Nathan? Surely, he’s not the Roman character in all of this?
“Well, you don’t have to worry. You’re nothing like these people.”
His answering smile is swift and bright, like I’d paid him the highest compliment. “Thanks, Kitty Kat.”
I punch his arm lightly to let him know he’s not off the hook. He should have warned me of what exactly I was walking into. Though to be fair, if he had, I probably would have never agreed to turn up.
“We’re not done with this conversation yet.” I glare at him without heat. “But for now, can we go swimming?”
The yacht has dropped anchor just offshore from a small island, the sand so blistering white that it rivals my ankles and feet. The ocean just beyond us is a vibrant mix of turquoise and aqua, and as the sun beats down on us, it looks too inviting to resist.
