On Hart's Boardwalk (On Dublin Street 6.7)

The sun was just beginning to filter in through the curtains and Nate looked like he might still sleep awhile. Last night, while I was struggling to keep my eyes open, he was complaining about feeling too awake. I wondered how long it had taken him to fall asleep. Resisting the urge to reach out and touch his face, I slowly and quietly got out of bed and reached for the complimentary bathrobe I’d found on the back of the bathroom door last night. It was made of the softest terry cloth. Bailey Hartwell did not scrimp on the details.

Having grabbed my phone off the bedside cabinet, I tiptoed over to the French doors and opened them as quietly as possible. I squeezed out between the smallest space I could, attempting to let in as little light as possible so as not to disturb my husband’s rest.

Once out on the balcony, I closed the doors behind me and sat down on one of the seats at a small round table in the corner. The sun was breaking across the horizon, a warm orange strip of light chasing the water to shore. The boardwalk looked still and almost unreal, like something out of a movie set, bathed in the lilacs of encroaching dawn. Seagulls cawed overhead and I found myself frowning up at them.

“Quit it, will you?” I whispered. My baby’s sleeping.

But they continued on as if they hadn’t heard me, and after a while the noise became just a background soundtrack to the beach. Soon the whole place glowed with early morning sunlight, and I closed my eyes feeling its prickle on my skin, listening to the waves lap gently to shore below. I’d brought my phone out, intending to take photos, but in that moment all I wanted to do was enjoy the peace this place cast over me.

For a while I wasn’t worried about my kids or if we were saving enough money a month for their Christmas presents, and I wasn’t worried about work or my new employee who kept calling in sick. And for just a sliver of a moment, I didn’t feel that niggle in my belly, the one that told me that things still weren’t completely resolved between me and my husband.

He still hadn’t really opened up to me about why he got so lost after Peetie’s death, and why he pushed me away when Cam pulled Jo closer.

And just like that my peace was shattered.

I’d let the worries intrude on our vacation.

My eyes flew open and I released a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Holy shit!” My hand flew to my chest as I jumped. Twisting around, I found Nate leaning against the French doors, wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms and an amused smirk. “I didn’t even hear you get up.”

“I know.” He pushed off the door. When he walked over to me he bent down and pressed a kiss to my lips before taking the other seat at the table. His gaze drifted over our magnificent view. “You seemed far away.”

“I was just enjoying the peace.” I gestured around us.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

My gaze drifted over his gorgeous profile, and down over his bare torso. He was all honed muscle and tan skin. He used to have just the word “After” tattooed across his chest in black script. It once was a mere letter—“A”—to represent his first love, Alana. She died of cancer when they were teenagers and it royally fucked Nate up about women. When I met him he was the ultimate player. It had been easy to fall in love with each other but incredibly difficult to get Nate to admit it. When he eventually did, he had hurt me so badly I’d decided I didn’t want to be with someone who was still hung up on a ghost. He’d turned the “A” into the word “After,” meaning that I was what came after his childhood sweetheart. He told me he would always love Alana but I was the love of his life, and knowing what that tattoo had meant to him, the gesture finally convinced me he was telling the truth.

Two years ago, he had the script lengthened to “After my first came my last.” I’d burst into happy tears when I saw it. The romantic son of a bitch. He got lucky so many times for months because every time I saw the tattoo I turned to mush. Looking at it now flooded me with memories of our sexcapades that summer.

Now I wanted to lick him all over.

Jesus, I shouldn’t have married someone so hot.

Pushing thoughts of licking my husband out of my head, I said, “Did you get much sleep?”

“Aye.” He looked back at me, his dark eyes alert and bright, proving the truth in his answer. “I must have fallen asleep not much later than you.”

“You were tired after all.”

“It could have been your snoring. It lulls me.”

I glared at him. “I do not snore.” The only time I ever snored was when I was pregnant. I knew I had because Nate recorded it and made fun of me.

He grinned. “You’re so easy to wind up.”

“Winding me up is not a great way to start our vacation.”

“That depends”—his eyes suddenly smoldered—“on which way I wind you up.”

A smile tickled my lips as my body grew eager just at the thought of Nate winding it up. “What did you have in mind?”

He leaned toward me, his arms crossed in front of him on the table. “Would you rather act out a familiar fantasy or play a new game?”

I grew still, my skin already flushing hot at the thought. Over the years, Nate and I had sometimes jazzed up our sex life by playing out little fantasies. I’d even dressed up for him on occasion. I liked all of our fantasies but I was up for anything when it came to my husband. “Play a new game. Did you have something in mind?”

“We’ve never been strangers who meet in a bar before.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“We’ve never been strangers who meet in a bar and fuck each other within minutes of meeting.”

My breath stuttered at the thought. “Is that what you want?”

His eyes dipped down to the gap in my bathrobe to my generous cleavage. Lust flared in his gaze as it drifted back up to my face, lingering on my lips before locking onto my eyes. “Aye, I’d definitely be up for that.”

“Pun intended?”

Nate winked at me.

Shit, he knew what that did to me. When we first met we were just good friends, and anytime he winked at me or gave me that wicked, dimpled smile or said anything remotely flirtatious, I had to push it to the back of my mind. I hadn’t wanted to fall for him. But the truth was I hadn’t been able to ignore my attraction to him. Especially after we kissed for the first time. Some days the sexual tension had made me so hot . . .

Wait a minute.

“Do you remember what it was like before we started having sex? Do you remember the tension between us? Every time I was with you I felt like I was going to come out of my skin.”

Nate expression turned tender. “I remember.”

“And do you remember what the sex was like when we finally gave in?”

“I thought I would never stop coming.”

I squeezed my legs together as my lower belly flipped with desire. “You couldn’t get out of there fast enough,” I teased.

Nate’s gaze darkened. “Because I knew then that you were the only woman I wanted to be inside for the rest of my life.”

My nipples tightened. “You and I have both been thinking about sex since the moment we got in the taxi on Dublin Street.”

“Very true.”

“So why not torture ourselves a little? Let’s not have sex right away.”

My husband immediately frowned. “Are you suggesting we don’t have sex on our vacation?”

“No, I’m suggesting that we plan our stranger’s fantasy three nights from now. I think by then we’ll be ready to explode.”

For a moment, I didn’t think Nate would agree. Then he surprised me by saying, “This is just about fantasy, right? You’re not . . . There isn’t something I should know about? You want to have sex with me . . . right?”

It shocked me that he would think otherwise, and that’s when I realized he was feeling that niggle of dissona

nce between us, too. I swallowed down those worries and replied, “Of course I want you. I just thought it might be an interesting game to play.”

He thought about it for a moment. “I’m already hard as iron for you, babe. I don’t know if I need to delay gratification any more than it already has been delayed.”

Feeling a little disappointed, because I was pretty sure prolonging sex would make for amazing orgasms, I just shrugged.

But he knew me too well. “Fine.” He sighed. “But not three nights. I’ll give you until tomorrow night.”

“That’s hardly prolonging sex, Nate.”