Private Player - Page 56

He slid his drink onto the coffee table between us. “Because Audrey is going through some stuff that’s very private.”

Well, that put me in a difficult position. I wanted to know what was so private, but pushing him to tell me would dismiss the seriousness of his respect for Audrey’s privacy. I couldn’t ask him to betray her confidence, and he wouldn’t, even if I had. Nathan wasn’t that man. I knew that.

But I’d still jumped to conclusions and forgotten who I knew him to be.

I should have known better than to assume he was lying and manipulating me.

I should have trusted him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, scooting forward on the sofa, trying to catch his eye. “You’re right. I know that you’re a decent man. I suppose that’s what had me so upset. Norfolk was so . . . so perfect, and you’d shared so much.” I tipped my head back. “I assumed the worst of you.” I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been surrounded by my mother’s work all my life, seeing the proof that with wealth and fame came hypocrisy and corruption. Maybe it was because I’d come to care about the man in front of me, had allowed myself to feel close to him, and part of me was scared enough to look for a reason to end it. Whatever the reason, something in me had caused the problem, not something in him. He’d done nothing to warrant my suspicion. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry,” I finally said. When he didn’t reply, I wondered if I should just leave. I stared at him, his long eyelashes flickering as he blinked. All I wanted was to make it better. “You’ve never done anything to give me reason to doubt you.”

“No,” he said. “I haven’t.”

I moved from my seat and sat on the coffee table between his legs.

“I promise I won’t allow myself to doubt you again.” I slid my hand over his, and he flipped his over so our palms met in some kind of truce.

“What were you even doing in Highgate anyway?” he asked.

I should tell him the truth—that my mother was one of those journalists he hated so much. Explain that she was the one who broke the story about him and Audrey. I had the arguments mapped out—how her type of journalism and mine were very different. And how I’d spent my entire career trying to carve out my own path that wasn’t about scandal and exposing peoples’ private lives . . .

But somehow I couldn’t find the words.

“I was just running on the Heath,” I replied. I didn’t want to rock the very shaky foundations that currently needed rebuilding. Telling Nathan who my mother was may take a wrecking ball to them. I’d tell him. Just not yet.

“That explains the Lycra,” he said, quirking an appreciative eyebrow.

“And the sweaty face,” I replied, my shoulders dropping as I saw in his softened expression that I was forgiven.

“Maybe you need a shower?” he suggested, shifting and lifting my bottom and pulling me onto his lap so that my legs straddled his hips.

“Perhaps I need to get a bit sweatier first. And then take a shower?” I said, rocking my hips over him and finding him deliciously hard already.

What was it with this man and the way he could just look at me and have me restless and ready for him? Yeah, he might be the best-looking man I’d ever seen. He might have a body like Jason Momoa, but it was more than that. It was the way he looked at me, as if I were the only woman he’d ever seen. Like he’d swim through shark-infested waters just to hold me. Like he’d never lie to me. It was the most intoxicating, exhilarating, thrilling feeling.

“Tell me you know who I am?” he asked me as his fingers dug into my bottom, pushing me against him.

“I do,” I said. “I know you’re loyal. And brave. And determined. And principled. And I know you’re honest.”

Nathan’s hands clasped my face and he pulled me in for a kiss, claiming my mouth as if he wanted to taste the words I’d just uttered. As if he needed to believe them as much as I did. His tongue pushed into my mouth, desperate to consume me. In a moment I was transported back to Norfolk, back to when the only thing I had to think about was him and me, the rest of the world locked out.

He slipped his fingers under my t-shirt and pulled it over my head before pushing me to my back on the sofa. “Stay,” he said. “Stay here with me tonight.”

I pushed my hands through his hair. “If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

All my concerns about conflicts of interests seemed to just dissolve. Nothing stood a chance against this tidal wave of feelings that enveloped us both. Nothing mattered except being with this man. Except being together.

Tags: Louise Bay Romance
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