“You know how to wrap it?”
“Hey, when it's not my own hand, I'm pretty good at it.” I watch him take down that same first aid kit from the cabinet and set it down on the floor as he kneels in front of me again. He carefully wraps athletic tape around my ankle and then around the middle of my foot, hooking it around and around until my ankle is firmly stabilized. “OK, let's get you into the den so we can ice it.”
I begin to stand but he bends over and scoops me up again, carrying me through the hallways to the cozy den. He sets me down on the couch and then disappears. I grab a pillow and set it behind my back as I stretch my legs out, marveling at the sudden appearance of Nate's caretaker instincts. He reappears with a Ziploc bag of crushed ice and a glass of water, setting the latter down on the table next to me before lowering the ice down onto my ankle. I shiver as he places it down, and he pulls the throw down from the back of the couch. He grabs one end and unfolds it, then sits on the edge of the couch next to me to lay it over me, tucking the corners in around my body.
I become very aware of my own breathing as he moves over me. I watch his hands as they take the edge of the blanket and tuck it around my shoulders. His right hand moves slowly from the blanket onto the exposed skin of my neck. I hold my breath as he lightly runs his fingertips up onto my jaw, then over to my chin. With his thumb and forefinger, he gently tilts my head up until I look at him. He's staring at my mouth, and only pauses for a moment before he bends down.
“Please don't,” I whisper as he's just inches away from kissing me. “If you don't want anything more, it's just cruel.”
“What if I do want something more?” he says, his dark blue eyes flicking up to mine.
“More…” I repeat, rolling the word around my tongue. “What kind of more?”
“I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I've tried fighting that feeling, I've tried reasoning with it, but it just keeps getting stronger. I have to give in—I need to. I can't tell you I know exactly what this will look like…I've never done anything like it. But I promise you that when I'm with you, I'll be with only you. And I want you to be with only me.”
I stare up at him. That's still a lot of unknowns, but I sense that he's giving me everything he can right now. Plus my heart is about to beat out of my chest, and my resistance is giving out.
“Only you,” I nod, before reaching around his neck and pulling him toward me. Our lips meet in an open kiss, our tongues finding each other’s and mingling with desperate passion. He presses me back against the cushion, his hands grasping my waist over the blanket and quickly moving up and over my breasts. I arch my back into him, wanting to feel him against me…feel him everywhere.
“You guys home?” Nate jumps away as we hear my mom's voice from the foyer. He takes a deep breath and then runs his hand through his hair before responding.
“We're in the den!” he calls back, then turns to me. “Tonight,” he murmurs, his eyes burning with promise.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Are you OK, Brynn?” my mom asks me, frowning.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I reply lightly as I use my napkin to try to clean the tomato sauce off my shirt where I've just spilled it. Nate's promise of an evening rendezvous has left me clumsy and distracted throughout dinner. I had just finished cleaning up the glass of water I knocked off the table when I dropped a piece of chicken off my fork and onto my shirt.
“Sorry I couldn't make it today, guys,” Pierce says. “Looks like you could have used some more supervision. Nate shouldn't have taken you on any dangerous trails.”
“Oh, it wasn't dangerous,” I rush to Nate's defense. “He was trying to teach me how to spot poison ivy, actually, and I walked right off the trail. I didn't realize how close I was to the edge and the ground just gave way under me. It was all my fault. He was the one who pulled me back up and taped my ankle.”
“Well, it couldn't hurt to get it looked at by a doctor on Monday,” my mom points out.
“I think it'll be fine, really,” I insist.
“Anyone want dessert?” my mom asks.
“No, thanks,” Nate and I both respond at the same time. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“What's so amusing?” Pierce asks, looking at his son, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Inside joke,” I reply quickly. “I'll help you clear the table, Mom.” We both stand and grab a couple plates and head into the kitchen. As soon as the swinging door shuts behind me, I hear Pierce's voice. Even though his words are muffled, I can tell by his tone that he's berating Nate for something. I look at my mom. She turns on the water and begins rinsing off the plates before putting them into the dishwasher. “Is it OK with you that he talks to Nate like that?”
“It's between the two of them,” my mom replies quietly without looking up at me.
I feel anger surge inside me. “You keep trying to make us a family, but then you won't get involved in their relationship. You can't have it both ways.” Before she can reply, I spin back around and into the dining room. Pierce breaks off abruptly as I enter the room, and I quickly clear the rest of the dishes before limping upstairs to my room.
I take a deep breath as I close my bedroom door behind me. I don't want to have this night ruined by my anger at my mom and Pierce. I head into the bathroom and turn on my shower. I still haven't had a chance to wash off the sweat from our kayaking and hiking trip today, and I want to smell like a rose tonight.
My body tingles in anticipation as I peel off my shirt and shorts. I glance down at my wrapped ankle, wondering if it's OK to get wet. Probably fine. I pull off my sports bra and underwear and then study myself in the mirror, running my hands over my breasts and then across my stomach. Nate's already seen me naked, I remind myself, as nerves surge up in my stomach. And I already know he likes me. It will be OK.
I step under the hot stream of water and take my time washing my hair. As the conditioner sets, I shave my legs and my bikini line, going a little bit narrower than I would normally. I know that a lot of girls at college go completely bare, but I can't bring myself to go that far.
I turn off the water and towel myself off, then part my hair in the middle and let it air dry. I pull a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a camisole from my bureau and put them on. I'm not sure if that's sexy or not, but I'm trying not to overthink it. I'm certainly not succeeding, but I am trying.