“I lost my appetite.”Lier.
“You’re always hungry after an orgasm.”
“Are we chatting about my quirks now?” I pick up my fork. “My orgasms are none of your concern.”
“Everything about you is my concern, Charity. You made it that way when you allowed me to spank you.”
My breath hitches.
“When you came all over my dick.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s no use. Us on my bed, our breaths mingled in the room, are all I hear and see.
“And coated my tongue with your juices.
“You don’t want me. Not like I want you.”
“Wrong.” He places several strawberries onto my plate. “I meant what I said about giving you time to change your mind. You could have told Nathan about us, but you didn’t.”
“So could you, Nathan.”
“What sort of gentleman would I be if I outed us before you are ready? I’m forty years old, Charity. Married and divorced, giving you a chance to change your mind was the right thing to do.”
Was?“Well, I’m not ready now.”
“That’s too bad, wildcat.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you have until New Year to tell him or I will.” He stands. “And charity, if you think for a second we won’t be fucking the entire time, you’d be wrong.”
CHAPTER NINE
NAOMI
Iroll my neck from right to left as I enter the kitchen, hoping to unwind the tension stiffening my shoulders. One hundred percent of my taut muscles come from my encounter with Nathan. My lips tingle at the memory of our kiss but I resist touching them, or acknowledging that he finally noticed the woman I’ve become.
I don’t know what possessed him to do it or why I didn’t end the madness before his tongue swept into my mouth. But once I felt his lean body pressed against my curves, I lost any rational thought.
Feel.
Possess.
Consume.
Those words had coursed through my blood, hungry to take all he gave. And I hadn’t wanted it to end.
Jealousy is an unknown side of Nathan I haven’t seen. Perhaps his actions weren’t born from jealousy, but his way of saying Travis did not impress him. I release a frustrated breath. Here I am, getting worked up for no reason. Reading more into a kiss that probably meant zilch to Nathan.
I grumble, snatching the empty coffee pot from its base.
Filling the pot with water, I start the first of many pots for the day. The mundane task is a welcoming distraction from the lingering scent of Nathan in my home.
The front door leading to the sitting area opens. “I want to hear everything!” I shout, “And I hope you made that man grovel.” Charity isn’t an early riser, but with Mason in town, I can’t imagine she got much sleep. “Coffee?” I ask as I pour myself a cup.
I frown.
Charity is way too quiet. She takes seconds to kick off her shoes and find me. Setting my cup down, I leave the kitchen with caution. Charity and I have seen each other in all phases — happy, sad, anxious, angry, but I don’t know what to do with aquietCharity. If Mason broke my friend’s heart, I’m going to cut him with the dull end of my scissors.
