Over the Fence (38 page)

The room was utterly silent, except for my harsh breathing and his shocked gasp when I finished. His arms tightened around me.

“
Kourtney.”

The tears that had been threatening, dripped down my face, and I couldn’t open my eyes. Nathan’s arms loosened and he shifted so he was standing in front of me.

“Hey,” he pleaded. “Look at me.”

I forced my eyes open and looked at him, blinking to clear away the tears that kept filling them.

He used his fingers to gently wipe away the ones flowing down my cheeks and he frowned at me. “You are so wrong, Kourtney.”

I shook my head.

He gripped me to him tight. “What have they done to you?” he murmured. He held me close for a few minutes, then stepped back, lifting my chin. “We’re not finished here.”

Wearily, I met his sad gaze. He was quiet for a moment, then spoke. “I saw you, you know. Before I came over the fence that day, I saw you.”

My eyes widened in shock. “When?”

“The first time was a Sunday morning when I left early to go meet someone. Then I saw you again before I put it together the sexy little runner I was seeing, who I felt this incredible protective pull to, was indeed, you.”

“Oh.”

“And you know what I thought the very first time? And the next day? And every time after that?”

“No.”

“How much I wanted to meet the person hidden under the hood. The one who seemed to be hiding. I was drawn to you even then, Kourtney. I didn’t think you were fat or unattractive. I thought you were lovely. And when I realized it was my Chefgirl I was catching glimpses of, I became even more determined to meet you, and get to know you.”

He stepped back behind me, and before I could stop him, grabbed the top of the towel and yanked it away from my torso. I gasped in shock and tried to curl into myself, my shoulders hunching and my arms coming up to cover myself, but he would have none of that. He held me flush to him, pinning my arms at my side. “Stop hiding from me, Kourtney.”

He waited until I stopped struggling, his hold never lessening. “Now, let’s talk about what I see when I look at you.”

Slowly, he loosened his hold, his hands running up my arms and across my collarbone. His head dropped to my shoulder, his lips at my ear. “Relax, Kourtney. Please, baby, relax. It’s me. I’m not going to hurt you. I could never hurt you.”

“You could, it’d be so easy,” I whispered painfully.

His eyes met mine. “That’s only because you keep waiting for me to do so, because it’s what you know. But it’s not going to happen. Not anymore,” he insisted. “I need you to listen to me now, okay? Really listen.” His hand continued to stroke my arms, his touch soothing, never rushed. “Are you with me, Kourtney?”

I nodded.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, warm and tender. “It’s like satin under my fingers. I love touching you. And when I touch you, Kourtney? The only thing I’m thinking is how good you feel under my fingers. How much more I want to touch you . . . everywhere.” His nose touched the base of my neck and he inhaled deeply. “You always smell so good. Warm, sweet,
sexy.
It’s a scent that is all you. It calls to me. It calms me when I’m close to you.”

He stared at me. “Your hair is incredibly gorgeous. It’s not plain brown. You have red, gold, and all sorts of little colors in it—especially when you’re in the sun. And I love running my hands through it. It’s one of my favorite things about you.” As if to show me he meant it, he gathered the tresses up and tangled his fingers through them, then allowed the locks to settle back down around my shoulders. He placed his hands on my arms again, his fingers gently caressing the skin. He was calm, but intense, when he spoke again. “You, Kourtney, are
not
unattractive. You are lovely. And you could never be forgettable. Ever. Your smile is contagious and your face glows with warmth. I love it when you smile. I love being the one who makes you smile. And your eyes . . . your eyes are breathtaking. They aren’t freaky or weird. They are exotic and stunning—unique—like you. They draw me in and show your emotions so vividly.” He paused and searched my eyes in the mirror. “But right now, I hate the emotions coming from them.”

I started to look away. “No. Kourtney. Look at me.” He waited until I raised my eyes again.

“I understand why you think you’re unattractive, but I’m more than happy to spend the rest of my life showing you how wrong you are. The assholes who drummed all the bullshit into your head need to be taught a lesson in what is unattractive. I think they can start by looking in the mirror themselves,” he stated with conviction. “You aren’t a fake Hollywood beauty. You aren’t overdone like that woman last night.
You’re real
. I could look at you the rest of my life and never tire of your sweet face. All the things you find imperfect, work for me. I love how you look.” He leaned over, kissing my nose. “Especially this. There is
nothing
big about your little button here, by the way. It fits perfectly on your face.”

His hands reached for mine and he ran them over my breasts. “You aren’t scrawny like me. I know this. I like it. I like your curves and how you feel to me. But you are
not
fat, Kourtney.” Our hands cupped my breasts, his larger ones encompassing both. “I love how your breasts fill my hands. How rich and full they are. They’re incredible.” He grinned at me. “I want to touch them all the time. And I love sleeping on them.” He let his hands rest there for a minute, gently caressing the skin as he ignored my breathing that had picked up. Our hands dropped and he caressed my torso, leaving one hand on my stomach while the other rested on my hip. His voice was low. “I love how your hips feel when I grab them. Soft, melting into my touch. How they look in your jeans or one of your pretty skirts. Round, shapely. Teasing me.” He pushed forward, his erection hard on my back. “Can’t you feel how you affect me, Kourtney? How fucking sexy I think you are?”

“I was heavier,” I insisted. “I still wear a size sixteen, sometimes an eighteen. I have stretch marks. And so many scars.”

His reply was patient. “They’re like my acne scars, Kourtney. Or the burn marks I have. They’re marks. They show me you survived something.”

I looked at the silver marks running across my hips and stomach, and the huge twisted scar left by my surgery. “They’re ugly.”

His finger traced the deep, long scar that ran along my right side, his touch light, but he didn’t comment on it. “Nothing about you is ugly, Kourtney.
Nothing.”
His lips trailed up to my ear. “The same way you don’t see my scars, I don’t see yours. I see
you
. Curvy. Beautiful. Voluptuous. Lush.” He bit down gently on my ear. “Mine.”

I shivered at his tone.

“You’re as beautiful to me as I am to you, Kourtney. Nothing I see in front of me is ugly, or to be ashamed of. I see nothing but beauty and warmth.” His eyes locked on mine. “I see nothing but you. And you, my Kourtney, are beautiful.”

I stared at myself, not understanding what he was seeing. Beautiful? Me?

“You’re healthy, Kourtney. You look after yourself. Does it matter if you’re not a size zero? You’re so much more than the weight you seem to think you carry.”

“I’ve always been told . . .”

He interrupted me harshly. “They were wrong. And you admitted a moment ago you have changed.”

“What?”

“You said it yourself. You were heavier.
Were
. You’re beautiful, Kourtney. In my eyes you
are
perfect. Stop trying to please someone you can never please. Don’t look at yourself the way they did. Stop listening to a voice that will only hurt you. Listen to a voice, to a person, who sees you for what you are—for who you are. How amazing I think you are.”

I drew in a deep breath. “I want to.”

Nathan turned me around so I was facing him. “Trust me, Kourtney. Stop fighting me. Stop hiding from me.” He cupped my face tenderly, his voice low. “I
love
you, Kourtney. I want to show you how much. I want you to be free with me.”

“You . . . you love me?”

He nodded. “I love you. Everything about you.” His hands tightened on my face. “Do you think you could possibly let my opinion of you be the one to guide you rather than the opinion of someone who doesn’t love you?”

I hesitated.

He loved me.

I had never heard those words spoken to me.

“Nobody has ever said that to me before. Ever,” I whispered; my throat tight with emotion. “Nobody has
ever
loved me.”

He gazed down, tears gathering in his eyes. “
I
love you, Kourtney. And I’ll tell you . . . I’ll show you every day, if you’ll let me. Please let me.”

“You don’t want me to change?”

His tone was tender. “I do, actually. I want you to be happy. With yourself. With me.”

“Nobody ever wanted that for me.”

He frowned. “I’m not nobody, Kourtney. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

Mine.

This beautiful man wanted to be mine. He loved me. Just the way I was; scars, marks and curves included. And I loved him back. Fiercely.

Fresh tears poured down my face. “I love you so much.” I struggled to get the words out.

Instantly, his lips were on mine, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth, seeking and tasting. His kiss was possessive and powerful, overwhelming my senses. I could taste his emotional tears, mixed with mine as he held me closer, never breaking the kiss. His hands trailed up and down my back and sides, and for the first time I didn’t cringe away from his touch. I could feel the love in his caresses. How gently he touched me. His hands weren’t seeking what was wrong, but loving what he found right. And my curves didn’t make him recoil; he liked them.

I wound one arm around his neck, bringing myself closer to his blistering kiss and reached between us, wrapping my hand around his erection. He groaned, pulling me with him as he walked backward toward the bed. He spun us around and lowered us both on to the mattress, never breaking contact with my lips. He leaned away a little, giving me more access to his erection as his hands cupped and stroked my breasts, teasing the nipples, which were hard and aching for his mouth. He pulled away, gasping, as I began stroking him harder; desire I had never experienced before shooting through me. He stared down at me, his chest heaving. “Can I love you now, Kourtney?” he rasped. “The way I want to? No holding back?”

I gasped at the look of pure lust in his eyes. No one had ever looked at me that way before. “Yes . . . o
h God,
please. I want you so much,” I begged, my voice husky with desire.

He loomed over me, his lips trailing up my neck. “I want you.” His hips thrust forward, his cock hard and leaking in my hand. “
Feel
how much I want you. How fucking sexy you are to me.” He groaned as I started using both hands on him. “
Fuuuuck . . . Kourtney . . . Yes,”
he hissed, claiming my mouth again and I lost myself to the sensations he was evoking in me. Everything around me ceased to exist. It was only him and me. His mouth, his tongue, his body pressing into mine. He stroked me with his fingers and hands, his voice moaning and whispering sweet and dirty things into my ears, about everything he was going to do to me. Today, tomorrow, next week, the rest of his life. All the ways he was going to have me.

He moved his lips down, drawing my nipple into his mouth, his fingers continuing down, slipping into my folds. I gasped in pleasure at the sensation. He lifted his head, releasing my nipple with one final swipe of his tongue. “You’re so wet, Kourtney. So wet for me, baby,” he groaned. He kneeled on the floor, pulling me to the edge of the mattress. I stiffened but he refused to allow me to stop. “All of you, Kourtney. I want all of you,” he declared, as his fingers continued to stroke my skin. “It’s my turn to taste you.”

I cried out with a startled, wanton gasp, as I felt his mouth on me. Pleasure I had never experienced coursed through me as he worked me with his mouth and fingers. Sounds I didn’t recognize escaped my throat as I arched myself closer to his mouth, desperate for his touch. When he angled his head back, I whimpered in protest and lifted my head to meet his intense gaze.

“Kourtney”—he licked his lips as he stared at me—“you taste like sin.
Fucking, glorious sin.”

I collapsed back onto mattress as his tongue returned to my aching, wanting center; my desire now at an all-time high. In a matter of seconds, I could feel my orgasm building, as his mouth licked and sucked, his tongue teasing, pressing, making me burn with a frantic, fierce need. My hips lifted, my body stretching itself taut and I came, my orgasm intense, as I screamed his name.

Nathan’s lips gentled, and nuzzled me as I shuddered around him, drawing out my orgasm until I was a mass of shaking limbs. I felt the mattress dip as he crawled up my body, looking down at me with a wicked gleam in his eye. Bending down, he kissed me deeply, and I moaned when I tasted myself on his tongue. “I’m not done with you yet, Kourtney,” he murmured against my lips as he dragged us both farther up on the mattress. “I want inside you, pretty girl. Now.” He moaned my name as he pushed my legs back to my chest. “Tell me you want me. Like this. Right now,” he demanded quietly. “I need to know you want this.”

“I do.” I gasped, arching my hips for him. “I want you.”

“This isn’t going to be gentle,” he warned. “Or take very long. I want you too much.”

“Please.”

His hands tightened on my legs as he thrust forward, entering me with a deep groan. In another move I wasn’t expecting, he grabbed my legs and flung them over his shoulders as he began thrusting powerfully. In this new position, I could feel every inch of him as he moved deep within me, hitting a place inside me I never dreamed existed. I moaned in pleasure as he moved strongly above me. His eyes were locked on mine as he smirked and arched his eyebrow at me. “You like that, my girl? You gonna come for me again?” He growled, lifting my hips off the bed, continuing to pump into me hard.

I groaned his name as I felt the coil twisting inside me again; tightening quick, ready to burst at any given second.

He lowered his head as his orgasm approached. I could feel him swelling and felt his body tensing around me. “Come for me, Kourtney. I want to feel you coming with me,” he begged before he threw his head back, groaning, clutching my hips as he thrust deeper, frantically calling my name. Watching him fall apart, I shuddered around him, losing myself, feeling his intense orgasm almost as if it was my own, before falling with him once again.