As I lathered my skin with soap, I recalled that intense moment with Nate in my bathroom back when he was still a stranger. I’d been so turned on that I’d dry-humped his leg until I came. Then, I thought about how he’d taken me in the cabin—him thrusting into me, the feel of his hands and mouth on me. Those memories sent an aching throb between my legs.
There wasoneaction I thought might help get Nate and me back on the right foot. I imagined stepping out of the shower and strolling into the living room, dripping wet and naked. The look on his face would be worth it, and whatever came next would bemorethan worth it.
At the back of my mind, that amorphic voice whined in sadness and irritation that he wasn’t in the shower with me, running his hands over my wet and soapy body. My wolf. She wanted to be with Nate as badly as I did. It was still so weird having another being inside me.
By the time I was dressed and out of the bathroom, my thoughts had turned to less sexual things. Nate sat at the small breakfast nook, staring at the wall.
“Hello, spaceman,” I said, waving my hand in front of his eyes.
He blinked. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“It has,” I agreed. How had so much happened in such a short span?
“I hope you’re okay with what I ordered. I was starvingand may have gone a little overboard.” He gave me an awkward and guilty smile.
Grinning, I sat down across from him. “Do I want to know? Did you order six pizzas or something?’
Nate rolled his eyes. “I’m not a frat boy. Pizza is good, but I wanted something with more culture.”
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Flinching, I jerked my head at the door.
“Relax.” Nate squeezed my hand. “It’s the food. The two restaurants are right down the street.”
I shot him a crooked smile. “Tworestaurants? You must really be hungry.”
Shrugging, he peered through the peephole, then opened the door and took four huge bags from the delivery guy.
“Oh my God,” I said. “What did you get?”
“In my defense, I haven’t even had breakfast yet, and my appetite did most of the ordering for me.”
A familiar scent drifted up from one of the bags, and I grinned. “Are thoseempanadas?”
Nate nodded. “When I saw the Colombian place on the internet, I couldn’t say no. Not quite the central Mexican fare you and your mom might be used to, but it’s got a lot of similarities.”
He began to extract containers, describing each as he set them down. “Lechona, stuffed roasted pork.Patacones, smashed and fried plantains. They call themtostonesin Cuban cuisine.”
“Fancy,” I remarked.
“I also got the beefempanadasand a tub ofsanchoco. That’s like a Colombian chicken soup. It’s really good.”
“That’s only half the food. What else did you get?” I asked, digging through the other bags.”
“Suya,” he said, pointing out a large container. “Grilled meat skewers. Then there’s Nigerian fried rice, and some little fried pastries they callpuff-puff.”
“Nigeria?” I asked, looking up at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had Nigerian food.”
Nate gave a nonchalant shrug. “I did some work in a fairly large Nigerian neighborhood in Texas. You’d be surprised how many Nigerian immigrants live in Texas. The food is amazing, so I had to get some.”
“Well, I’m not as hungry as you are, but let’s eat. My stomachisgrowling now.”
My statement proved false. As soon as I had plates full of food before me, I dug in with abandon. My stomach continued to growl while I ate. I also hadn’t eaten anything since dinner the day before.
I caught myself inching closer and closer to Nate. I craved his heat and his scent. Nate didn’t seem to mind, and even pressed his knee against my leg. The warmth of his body made my head spin with memories of his lips on mine, his fingers in my hair. It was all I could do to focus on the food.
“This is so good,” I said through a mouthful of fried rice. “It’s sort of Asian, but not really. I can’t even describe it.”
Nate nodded and swallowed his bite ofempanada. “That’s the best part about African cuisine. People in the West haven’t been exposed to it as much, so it’s a really nice surprise.”
