Now.
Chapter 25: Shards
Nathan catches hold of my arm from behind as I’m racing past the barn, yanking me to an abrupt stop.
Tears are streaming down my face. I don’t hide the fact. I want him to see how much that hurt.
“Let me go!”
But he doesn’t let go.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” His tone is urgent. And then the next thing I know his mouth is on mine, fast and hard, kissing me with an almost dependency.
I fight him for all of a second. Then I’m rendered powerless.
Nathan backs me into the barn until I’m up against the door of a truck parked in there. His hands are everywhere, mouth roaming, clothes being lifted, unbuttoned. I can barely keep up.
No one but Nathan can make me feel so utterly out of control like this. Any anger I had toward him disappeared the second he put his lips on mine.
Nathan pulls on the door handle. Locked.
“Shit,” he utters breathless.
His focus scans the barn. “Wait a sec.”
Untangling himself from me, leaving me wanting and breathless, he goes over to the tool bench and returns with a hammer. Shifting me aside, I watch wide eyed as he smashes the driver’s window out, puts his arm in and unlocks the door.
“What?” he asks innocently, desire still stoking his eyes.
“Is this yours?”
He shakes his head, “Craig’s.”
“Are you crazy? He’s gonna go mad!”
An almost smile. “I’m all kinds of crazy.” He drops the hammer to the floor with a clatter, and stalks closer. “But mostly, I’m just crazy about you.”
His eyes are blazing with need.
Something in my stomach drops, then coils lower.
The little space there was left between us he eliminates, and his mouth is on mine again. I wrap my arms around his neck.
He reaches behind me and opens the door to the back seat. He lifts me in. I shuffle back as he climbs in, straddling me, he shuts the door with a clunk.
And then it’s just us. Alone. On the back seat of a truck.
The blood in my body rushes to every part but my head. And I know the self-preservation half of my brain, the part that would be telling me this isn’t a good idea, that I’m here again repeating this cycle with him... we’ll sleep together, we’ll fight, one or both of us will get hurt - unfortunately seems to have abandoned me again at the very point when I need it.
But right now I can’t find the will to care. All I care about is him. Wanting him. Nathan is the anaesthesia for all of my pains. Even the ones he creates. Mainly, the ones he creates. He's an addiction I can’t deny myself.
So I let my eyes roam his hard firm chest, indulging in him as he pulls his T-shirt off over his head. Then I notice his tattoo is different. He’s had something added to it. I didn’t notice this morning, we were too busy fighting, of course.
I sit up to get a closer look. It’s above the other names, at the top near his chest. I know what these tattoos are, what they mean to him. A reminder of the people’s lives he’s saved in Iraq. I’m confused.
“You had another tattoo done?”
Tracing my finger over the lettering, I look up at him.
His body stiffens under my touch. He doesn’t meet my eyes. Running a hand over his hair, he nods slightly.
A thought trickles into my brain, making my heart skip over.
“What does it say?” I try to keep my tone even, light, but my mouth suddenly feels gluey.
There’s a beat of silence between us.
“Alex,” he mutters. “It says, Alex.”
Nathan finally meets my eyes and when he does I see something there I never thought I’d see – vulnerability.
My heart starts to beat uncomfortably hard.
He rests back onto his heels with a sigh, a subdued air all around him. “I guess I just needed something to remind me you were real, because after you left, there was nothing ... nothing to say you’d ever been here.”
I’m blindsided. And then all the fighting and hard words just become as irrelevant as they truly are.
An unexpected tear sneaks out of my eye. I wipe it away.
“I’m so sorry I left you like I did,” I whisper, choked up.
He looks down at me, there’s brooding in his eyes.
“You were right to leave. You did the right thing … just for the wrong reason. You should have left for yourself, not for me.” He rubs his face, hard. “I wasn’t in a good place before you left and I was even worse after you went. I haven’t seen straight for a long time.”
He looks so broken. Just like Jack said he is. It’s unbearable to see. I open my mouth to speak but he holds a hand up, stopping me. “Just let me get this out please.”
I close my mouth, allowing him the time and space he needs.
“What I said to you in that hotel room about Sol. That it was your fault he died. It was unforgivable. And I’m so sorry. If I could take those words back I would.”
I can feel a sob welling deep within me, but I hold it back. I don’t want to cry anymore.
“I blamed a lot of people for his death, mainly myself – and Cal, but never you. I don’t even know why I said it.” A sigh. “I spent a long time looking for you, to tell you this, and then when I had the chance to, I screwed it up. I let my anger get the better of me, again. I guess … I don’t know, just when you turned up, out of the blue … it threw me.”
He rubs his face with his hand and lets out a sigh. “I was angry that I’d spent so long looking for you, and then there you were, just standing right before me. I didn’t handle it well, I know. Trust me, I know what a fuck up I am.” He gives me a sad smile. “I’m impulsive, hot tempered, and I drink way too much. But worst of all – I don’t do this well.” He points a finger between us. “Well, I pretty much suck at it. And as it seems for some reason, I do it even worse with you.”
My stomach does a nervous flip.
“I suck at this too you know.” I give a small smile. “But we could help each other to not … suck.”
Raising his eyebrow, he gives a short laugh. It runs in smooth electric waves over my skin.
“I hope you don’t mean that literally.” His smile is all fox.
God, I love him.
Leaning forward, I slide my hands around his back and kiss my name that’s forever branded into his skin. “I missed you,” I murmur.
He presses his lips to the top of my head, his dog tags rest cool against my cheek. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say he missed me too. Not that he has to, there’s no prerequisite, but now I just feel awkward for saying it.
“So were you drunk when you had it done?” I lift my head to look at him, running my index finger over his, my, tattoo, trying to change the subject.
He tucks my hair behind my ear, a smile creeping onto his lips. “A little.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Okay, a lot.” He laughs.
And there he is, my Nathan. “You do a lot of crazy things when you’re drunk.”
“I do a lot of crazy things when I’m not drunk.” He indicates the glass on the front seat.
I let my eyes flicker to the broken shards.
Our relationship is a lot like that broken window. One tap and we break easily, and we can be cutting, but melt us down and we meld straight back together.
“Nathan?”
“Mmm.”
“The drinking ... will it stop?”
He hooks my chin with his finger, bringing my face to his. “It already has.”
I see that look in his eyes again, the one where I’m pretty sure he’s considering all the ways he can devour me. A white hot thrill shoots through me, spiralling me out of control again.
I bite down seductively on my lip. His eyes flicker to them, then back to my eyes. And then he’s kissing me.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses me with so much passion and fervour that it sets my whole body alight. As his
lips grow impatient, I fall back against the seat and he crashes into me. He starts to pull my dress up. I lift my hips. He slides his hand under my back lifting me up off the seat and pulls my dress over my head with his other. He kisses the skin on my neck and shoulder as he unclasps my bra. I run my hands over his hard sculpted chest. He is perfection in every sense of the word.
Kissing a delicious trail back up my neck, he whispers in my ear, “You are so beautiful. You have no idea what you do to me.”
A feeling of complete ecstasy engulfs me. A few choice words from Nathan and I’m left practically immobile.
Unbuttoning his jeans, I slide down the zipper and putting my hand inside, between skin and boxer shorts, I take him in my hand. He groans and closes his eyes.
Turning my head to him, I tease, “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
He opens his eyes, chuckling, deep and throaty, he presses his lips to mine again, slipping his tongue into my mouth.
Another wave of intense pleasure ripples through me, a moan escaping from deep within.
Nathan shucks out of his jeans and boxer shorts, and then we’re skin on skin. Nothing left between us.
“Shit,” he says, through ragged breaths, sounding frustrated. “I don’t have a condom. They’re in my room.”
I hadn’t even thought to be honest, shows how far gone I am.
His head falls heavily against my own panting chest.
“Nathan the condoms …”
He lifts his head to look at me. “Are really old. There’s been no one else, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone is as intense as his eyes.
“So they probably won’t work anyway.” I let out a little laugh. The laugh – because I’m relieved there has been no one else. But still we have no condoms, and I want him. Now. That fact – not so funny.
We look at each other for a long moment. Just staring into each other’s eyes. Electricity firing between us.I see the question appear there in his eyes. I nod slightly. Just once.
And then there’s no stopping if we tried.
“I’ll pull out,” he breathes into my mouth.
“No. It’ll be fine.” I can hear the words, but it’s like it isn’t even me saying them. I can’t believe how reckless I’m being.
But my mind is lost in this moment as much as my body is. Lost to Nathan. And right now I don’t care about anything, but having him.
He grabs my hands, bringing them up above my head, resting them against the door of the truck, his mouth fixed on mine.
“You’re all I want,” he groans, as he moves inside me.
“Oh God, Nathan,” I sigh, my own breath staggered.
His movements start to become harder as his need overtakes, a sheen of sweat slick between us. I dig my nails into his rough hands with each move he makes.
And then when his body tenses and his movements become rigid, I can feel myself shifting to a whole other place with him. Then as my own body starts to shake and quiver, Nathan growls deep in his throat, pressing into me one last time, groaning and quivering above me.
Staying inside me, he kisses me again, slowly. Then finally moving, he lays beside me, wrapping his arms tight around me, holding me to him as I rest my head on his chest. He reaches up and grabs the blanket off the back shelf, laying it over our entwined naked bodies.
I snuggle closer to him and he tightens his hold on me.
“Are you happy?”
“I’m happy,” he says, and I can feel his smile.
After a while I feel his breaths start to labour.
“You’re tired?” I smooth my hand over his chest, fingers tracing over my tattoo. I still can’t believe he did this.
“Yeah.” He sighs. “I haven’t had much sleep.”
“You didn’t sleep last night?” I glance up at him.
“I haven’t slept properly since you left.”
I look away, pressing my lips together, holding back a painful breath.
“Just don’t leave this time, okay?” he says, gripping me with his fingers, his voice sounding so very tired.
Nuzzling his neck, I press a kiss to skin, feeling sick that he even has to ask, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”
I’m never, ever, leaving you again.
Chapter 26: Hunger
I wake in Nathan’s bed with him beside me, awake and watching me.
This is so much better than when I woke yesterday morning, or any other morning for the last six months when I’ve woken without him, for that matter.
“Hey,” I mumble, groggily.
“Hey, yourself.” His deep voice strokes over my senses, like a feather on my skin.
He leans in and kisses me. It’s a long, slow kiss. No tongues though, thankfully. Morning breath, not so pretty. Not that I imagine I look any shade of pretty at the moment. Bed hair and all.
I’m fully aware of how bad I can look in a morning. But then again, since yesterday afternoon he’s seen, and had me, in pretty much all of the hair ruffling sexual positions known to man, sweating and near to depletion. The guy is a walking encyclopaedia of sexual positions, and how best to do them.
Not that I’m complaining. Far from it.
Memories of yesterday flood my mind, sending shivers running through me and raising a blush in my cheeks.
Yesterday, Nathan sleep a short while in the truck, I laid awake with him the whole time, just happy to be in his arms. Then when he woke, he seemed better, refreshed. We dressed and came back to the house; me with the intention of him getting some more sleep. It didn’t quite work out that way. We’ve only left to use the bathroom, and Nathan once when he went downstairs to get us sustenance. Apart from that we’ve not left his bed.
As I’ve discovered, Nathan has a lot of stamina. A heck of a lot. Well, so do I for that matter. But he has way, way, way more.
We’ve used condoms the whole time. Neither of us has mentioned the fact we didn’t in the truck. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but even still I’ll ask Nathan to go pick the morning after pill up for me later.
But we both finally passed out a few hours ago from sheer exhaustion. As it seems though, my body has a hard time sleeping in close proximity to Nathan, hence why I’m awake now.
“You slept?” I check.
“I did.” He smiles.
“Have you been awake long?” I ask, stroking my fingers over his hard chest.
“No.” He traces my lower lip with his fingertip. “I woke a few minutes before you did.”
Seems our bodies are in sync too. I like that. A lot.
“Nice hair by the way.” He flicks his eyes up cheekily, to my hair.
A self-conscious hand flies up to my current bird's nest. It’s all stuck up at the back.
“Screw you,” I say, grinning, trying to smooth it down to presentable. “You’re not looking so hot yourself.”
That’s a complete lie. I don’t think there is ever a moment Nathan doesn’t look gorgeous.
“Promises, promises,” he murmurs.
I grunt a response at him and run my fingers over his shoulder, up the back of his neck and into his own short presentable hair as he leans in and starts to kiss my neck.
“Speaking of hair, when did you cut yours?” I ask, loving the feel of his lips on my skin, but realising I haven’t even mentioned it until now.
He stops kissing and moves back. I groan inwardly at the loss of contact. Resting his head on the pillow, he stares at me.
“When, or why?”
Hmm.
I go for when.
“A while ago. I’ve been keeping it short. Less hassle.”
Okay. “Why?”
“Why, am I keeping it short?” He queries, knowing full well what I mean. He only prolongs things when he doesn’t want to answer a question. And now I’m curious.
“No. Why did you cut it in the first place?”
I see emotion flicker through his eyes. There’s a noticeable pause before he speaks.
&
nbsp; “I was angry.” Deep breath. “At you.”
And now I wish I’d never asked. I try, unsuccessfully, to quell the pain it causes me.
Looking away, I whisper, “I’m sorry.” My voice is hoarse and apologetic.
He cups my chin with his hand, forcing my eyes up to his.
“Don’t be.”
His gaze is warm, soft. It eases my pain right away.
“I like it,” I say softly, running my finger over his cropped hair, and curving it around his ear.
“No you don’t.” He smiles.
“Okay, I don’t,” I grin.
“I’ll grow it back.”
“Do that.” Moving closer to him, I wrap my leg around his, put my arm over his waist, rest my face against his chest, and hug him.
Putting his arm around me, he hugs me right back, firmly, holding me tight to him.