Authors: Samantha Towle
“Don’t worry,” I say hastily. “I’m not asking you to marry me or anything. It’s just – it’s a promise ring,” I explain as I hand it to him.
My face is bright red, and I can’t bring myself to look at anyone. It’s that quiet you could hear a bloody spider drop in here.
He opens the box.
There are two rings in there. One for him. One for me. Stainless steel, both engraved inside with, ‘Forever’.
Okay, I know it’s corny, but have you seen him, and I’m in love. Like never before.
“One for you and one for me,” I explain, as he sees the two rings. I was going to take mine out, but I thought it better to leave them together, so he’d get the meaning.
“I guessed,” he says smiling. A real smile. A huge smile in fact.
Does this mean he likes it?
He takes his ring, the larger of the two, out of the box, and looks at it. Looking at the engraving inside.
“You wear it on your right hand,” I say. “I mean of course you wouldn’t wear it on your left, that’s what people do when they get married. And you d. Ier’.
Shit, this embarrassing.
He looks at me. Then without hesitation he slides the ring onto the ring finger on his right hand. He takes the smaller ring, my ring, out of the box, all the while, staring at me intensely, for a long moment, and my heart starts to cartwheel. He takes hold of my right hand and gently pushes it onto my ring finger.
Is this what people feel like when they are getting engaged? Because if it’s anywhere near as intense as this, I think I would actually explode if Nathan did ever see crazy and ask me to marry him.
I gulp down.
I feel like the world has shrunk down to just us two. He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, murmuring quietly, “I love it, and I love you. Thank you.”
“Get a room!” jests Craig.
We break apart, smiling. My face is still a shade of beetroot.
“So, time for birthday cake,” says Jacks, clapping his hands together he stands.
I notice his voice is a little gruff. Then I see a sheen in his eyes as he turns. I feel a tug on my heartstrings once again.
Nathan takes my right hand in his, entwining our fingers, he stares down at our rings side by side.
Then he looks up, meeting my eyes, and smiles at me again, intimately. And I know at this moment I did the right thing getting the rings.
Chapter 29: Close Shave
It’s late when they start filtering off to bed. Jack’s the last left, but I usher him off to bed making him a hot chocolate to take with him, telling him I’ll load the dishwasher and finish up cleaning the kitchen.
One, because he looks knackered. And two, because I’m dying for some alone time with Nathan.
Nathan thanks Jack again for the watch just as he’s retreating. Then seemingly out of the blue, he hugs Jack. I see the flicker of surprise, then genuine emotion on Jack’s face as he hugs Nathan back, and I nearly burst out crying.
I have to turn away to clear my eyes of the welling tears. I get the distinct impression hugs from Nathan to Jack happen, rarely, if ever.
Then it’s just the two of us.
Nathan goes over to the table, where I’d purposefully left Cal’s card. I might hate the guy but he is Nathan’s brother, and the card was from Erin and Rose too. He loves them, if anything.
He stares down at the blue envelope for a long moment, I pretend to not be paying any attention as I wipe the countertop clean.
Finally he picks it up and opens it. He screws the envelope into a ball and tosses it onto the table. Opening the card, I watch his eyes as they read, looking for any hion Na
“Okay?” I ask, as he walks over to me.
“Yep. You need a hand?” he touches the small of my back.
“No. Just the dishwasher left to load. You go and relax.”
“I’ll help.”
“It’s your birthday. Go sit down.” I put on my best commanding voice.
“I’m helping.” He nudges me with his hip. Smiling up at him, I shake my head and nudge him back.
“I’ll rinse. You load.”
I can hardly keep my eyes off him while we work in comfortable silence. Every time he bends down to put a plate in the dishwasher his new T-shirt rides up and I get a show of his toned abs, and a bolt of lust shoots through me, and I just want to take his new T-shirt off for him again.
I’m set on lust twenty-four-seven. Being away from Nathan for so long was so incredibly hard, and now that I’m here with him it’s hard to stay away, and to not touch him incessantly.
I’ve had quite a few glasses of champagne tonight so my emotions are slightly heightened, but even still it wouldn’t matter. I just have to be near him. Touching him constantly. He doesn’t seem to mind though, and if anything he’s just as bad. He has his hands on me plenty.
We’re in the early stage of our relationship; a relationship neither of us thought we’d ever have, so whereas it’s normally all lust and sex, yeah well times it by about ten thousand and you’ll be about where we are right now.
I know it will at some point wear off, not anytime soon I hope, but while it’s here I’m going to make the most of it and enjoy it to the max. After not having him in my life for so long I don’t want to take a single thing about him for granted.
I hand him the last plate and dry my hands on the towel. As he leans over putting it in the dishwasher rack I move behind him and put my water cooled hands under his T-shirt and slide them around his waist. I hear his sharp intake of breath.
“So, it’s just me and you,” I murmur.
I can practically feel his smile. I don’t need to see his smile to feel it, I know it like it’s my own and it spreads over my skin like the warm evening air.
He straightens up and turns in my arms. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he smoothes them down my arms in a very slow deliberate movement. “Just the way I like it.”
“Is it selfish that I want you to myself all the time?”
“Not at all.” He leans down and kisses the side of my mouth, ever so gently. “I’d call us even on that score.”
His lips graze over mine as he moves central, his breath caressing my skin.
I make a noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan.
It seems to have an effect on him because without taking his mouth off mine, he reaches his hand back, shoves the dishwasher door shut, then picks me up and turns with me, depositing me onto the counter.
I love it when he takes control like this.
He presses his face into the curve where my neck and shoulder meet and runs his tongue over my skin. I entwine my legs around his, keeping him held tight against me.
“Mmm,” he murmurs. “You taste sweet.”
“I reek of garlic.”
“So do I.” He presses his lips softly to mine. His hands go to the small of my back. “But even garlicky you’re still incredibly sexy … so is this the rest of my birthday present? You, I mean.”
Biting the grin on my lips, I say, “I’m a sure thing for you every day, not just on your birthday you know.”
He grins back at me, then moves a hand to my thigh, rubbing over my jeans with his thumb, moving higher and higher.
“We should go upstairs,” I mutter, feeling all kinds of breathless the higher his hand goes, tremors rolling from my head to my toes.
“We should,” he murmurs, moving his hand up toward the button on my jeans.
“I don’t think I could ever look Jack in the eye again if we defile his kitchen.”
Nathan stops and he raises his eyebrow. “Defile?”
I laugh, softly.
“Come on, we’ll go up to our bedroom. I’ll defile you there instead,” he chuckles.
Pausing, with my hands pressed against his chest, I utter surprised, “
Our
bedroom?”
My heart without warning starts to thud in my chest.
He shifts on his feet, looking at the floor. “It doesn’t have to be – I just thought–”
I put my hand to his cheek, and he looks up at me. “I want it to be
ours
. More than anything.”
He grins and my stomach fills with fairies fluttering about.
Then he lifts me down off the counter and takes me by the hand, leading me upstairs.
When we’re heading down the hall toward our room, I suggest a detour to the bathroom to freshen up, basically rid myself of the smell of garlic.
We stand side by side at the sink brushing our teeth. I stare at him in the mirror.
“Is the beard a keeper?” I ask.
He spits out in the sink and rinses his toothbrush.
“You don’t like it?” He rubs his hand over his beard. “I thought you liked me with stubble?” The twinkle in his eye is unmistakable.
I spit out too and clean my toothbrush.
“Stubble, I like.” I turn to his side to touch is face. “With the full beard I can’t see your face properly.” I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss the hair free smooth part of his cheek. “I like seeing your face.”
“So the beard goes.” His voice is suddenly gravelly.
He slides a hand around my waist and pulls me in front of him, leaning me back against the sink. Bracing a hand either side of me, gripping hold of the sink, he leans down and he lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me, gently, slowly. He tastes all fresh and minty and yummy.
When he drifts his mouth away from mine, his eyes aglow with desire, I take the opportunity to reach over and grab a razor off the shelf, waggling it before him.
“Now?” he says.
“As good a time as any.”
“You’re going to make me shave my beard off on my birthday?”
“Call it a birthday present.”
He looks at me confused. “How is me shaving my beard off a present for me? I am kind of attached to it, you know. It keeps me warm in the cold weather.” He puts a mock-dramatic hand to his beard.
I have a flashback to being in his car with him … him telling me I had to cut my hair off … me covering my hair with my hands … Nathan yelling at me …
“You’ve got me to keep you warm now,” I say, feeling irked by the memory, and also a little frustrated. “Just call it an early birthday present for me then.”
“When is it your birthday?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow.
Okay, so I walked straight into that one. “Oh … um …
tomorrow,
” I raise a little smile.
“Shit,” he sighs, dramatically. “I should have known this. How did I not know this?”
“Because I didn’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not really that bothered about it, I don’t want any fuss, and it’s your birthday today – your
thirtieth
birthday,” I highlight the point. “It’s more important than mine. I’m only turning twenty-seven.”
“
Nothing
is more important than you.” He traces my jaw with his fingertips. Butterflies swarm my stomach. “And you’re saying me having a shave is what you want for your birthday?” he reaffirms.
Smiling, I nod vigourously. Really all I want is him period.
“You’re easy to please.” A grin. He reaches a hand up to take the razor from me, but I pull it back.
He looks at me confused.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, provocatively.
His eyes pool. “With my life.”
“Let me shave you?”
He closes his eyes briefly in agreement. Side-stepping him, I put the lid down on the toilet, instructing Nathan to sit down on it. I fill the sink with warm water and get the shaving foam off the shelf. I wet my hands, then kneeling down before him, I squirt foam into my hands, lathering it up, I rub it all over his beard.
“It’s kind of cool our birthdays are right next to each other,” he says, face covered in foam.
I chuckle. “Means we won’t forget them.”
“I’d never forget yours,” he says. “How could I ever forget the day you landed on this planet, destination my way.”
Call it corny, but I think that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. “I’d kiss you right now if you weren’t covered in foam.”
He grins, “Save it for later?”
“Deal.”
I pick the razor up from the edge of the sink. Nathan tilts his head to the side and I very carefully start to shave his beard off.
When I’ve removed all trace of the hair from his beautiful face, Nathan surveys my work in the mirror while I rinse the sink clean and put the razor back.
I did a pretty good job if I do say so myself. No nicks or cuts at all.
Getting the aftershave lotion off the shelf I squeeze a small amount on my hand, spreading it between my palms by rubbing them together.
“Here,” I say, holding up my hands to him.
Turning to me, Nathan bends at the knees, coming down to my height. I press my hands softly against his cheeks and gently rub the lotion into his skin using my fingers.
“So, do I look better for you?” he asks, his still minty breath blowing over me as he speaks.
Keeping my fingertips resting lightly against his cheeks, I reply in a low voice, “You always look good to me.”