No Bad Days (Fisher Brothers 1)

Nick laughed and leaned forward to press his lips against my forehead. “I don’t know what else to call it without ruining the moment.”

He was probably right. Calling it hot wouldn’t have fit, nor would anything else I could think of. Nice would have to do.

“Good night, Jess.”

“Good night, Nick.”

He sighed as he wrapped his arms around me, and I closed my eyes and dreamed of him.

I woke up the next morning emotionally spent, yet also refreshed. It was a contradictory feeling that I didn’t understand at first until memories of every moment from last night hit me at once.

How would I ever be the same after everything that had happened? Not only because of the altercation at the party, but because of how Nick handled it, how he handled me. I’d never been in that kind of situation before—thank God—so I wasn’t sure what other guys normally did. But I was pretty certain that almost strangling someone with your bare hands probably wasn’t the most normal reaction. Then again, what did I know about guys and their tempers?

I felt connected to Nick now. He’d comforted me, taken care of me, fought for me. He made me feel safe, and I never knew before last night that a guy could make you feel like that. Honestly, I never knew before last night that I wanted to feel that way.

Focusing my sleepy eyes on my bedroom wall, I’d almost forgotten that I’d asked Nick to stay with me until I rolled over and practically crashed into his hard stomach. His arm moved around me and he pulled my body against his. I was certain he was still asleep until his lips curled into a devilish smile.

I swatted at his chest. “Nick, are you awake?”

“If I say no, will you stay like this?” he asked, knowing damn well what was currently pressing against my thigh.

Smiling, I tried to pull away from him, but he held me in place. “Nick,” I said with a groan.

“Jess.” He groaned back, mimicking me.

When his eyes opened and he stared at me, drinking me in, I wasn’t sure how I stopped myself from quivering, because that look sent a fire through every part of me.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

It wasn’t a request, yet it wasn’t a demand either. Nick’s words were simple, direct, and non-negotiable.

My eyes closed instinctively as I parted my lips and waited for him. The bed moved under me as Nick got closer. His thumb stroked the length of my cheek before brushing across my lips.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

I dipped my head but said nothing, squeezing my eyes shut a little tighter. I wasn’t great at accepting compliments, and this was no exception. His breath was closing in, I could feel his exhale around me, and yet I still waited for the feel of his lips. When his hands moved away from my face, his mouth was suddenly there, meeting mine.

God, his lips were soft. So soft.

We kissed until we found our rhythm and fell into it, our bodies coming together, touching and stroking as we explored each other, everything working in unison as if we were made for each other. Kissing Nick was like eating your favorite ice cream on a hot summer day—taste-bud overload and way too good to stop.

His hands threaded through my hair as my fingers found themselves firmly embedded in his shoulder blades. Our movements were sensual, slow, and passionate, both of us taking our time to explore the kiss, the curve of each other’s back, the hardness of muscle. I squeaked when he accidentally bit my bottom lip, and he pulled away, a smirk on his face.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, practically out of breath. “But we should probably get ready for class.”

His grin stayed put as he glanced between us, his gaze roaming the parts of me that weren’t covered by my sleep attire. “Mind if I shower?”

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down. “Go ahead. There’s an extra towel under the sink.”

“Extra toothbrushes, extra towels . . . I almost think you’ve done this before,” he said playfully as he headed for the bathroom, and I blushed at the thought that he might actually believe that.

“I’m kidding,” he said.

When he closed the door behind him and turned on the shower, I reached for my pillow and squealed into it, trying to hide the stupid excitement I felt at Nick Fisher being naked in my shower.

A light knock on my door startled me. Rachel must be home.