I shrugged, dropping my eyes to the foamy waves. “I just thought...I don’t know. I just thought you looked like something was bothering you when we went upstairs for the night.”
Only someone who knew him well could have caught it. The way the muscles in his face froze—betraying just the slightest hint of guilt. The way his eyes tightened ever so slightly. The involuntary twitch of his hand.
For a second, it looked like he was going to deny it all anyway, then he bowed his head with an almost imperceptible sigh.
“Sometimes I forget.”
I shook my head, trying to follow along.
“Forget what?”
He glanced up with a wry grin.
“That you’re you.”
I blinked quickly, and looked back down at the water. It was a rather strange way to start a discussion, but on the other hand, I didn’t think there was any greater compliment he could have given me.
I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I simply looked up—waiting for him to begin.
“When you asked about the press,” he began uncertainly, “when you asked if I’d like you to leak it to the press about our date...”
He trailed off, then lifted his eyes slowly to meet mine.
“This is never going to be real to you, is it?”
A cool chill washed down my spine, despite the hot water. So this was it then. We were laying all our cards down on the table. And as usual, Nick had made the first move.
Just as intently as I’d been staring at him, he stared at me now. Watching me flounder as I tried to sort through my thoughts. Interpret my feelings. Find a single moment of clarity amidst the fucking catastrophe that had become this ‘fake’ relationship.
Don’t think, Abby. Just talk. You know what to say.
And somehow...I did.
“Do you remember that night in the bar, when you asked me why I picked Ella?” He nodded silently, and I took a deep breath. “I picked her not because I knew you wouldn’t like her...but because I didn’t want you to.”
His lips parted as a cloud of steam wafted up between us, hiding my blu
shing cheeks and sticking my wet hair to my shoulders. By the time it cleared, he was standing right in front of me.
“Nick—”
“Enough.” He pressed a soft finger over my lips, then tilted my face up toward his. “I don’t want to talk anymore, Abby. We’ve talked enough.”
Without another word—I was in his arms.
My legs wrapped around his waist, and our lips came together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like we’d been designed specifically for each other—cut from that same magical cloth. Nick was right. We were finally alone, with all our cards out on the table. And we’d waited long enough.
While one hand wound through my hair—anchoring my face to his—the other wrapped around my legs and carried me out of the tub and up to his bedroom. At least, I think that’s where we were headed. I couldn’t stop kissing him long enough to open my eyes.
He navigated his way blindly through the door, and kicked it shut behind him. A second later, he was laying me down on the bed.
My skin was alive and ready. A trail of little chills followed his hand it ran slowly down the contours of my stomach before vanishing between my legs. My body twitched and writhed beneath him, but before I could even catch my breath, that same hand forced my legs apart.
The next second, he was slamming into me.
“Fuck,” I gasped, dropping my head back against the mattress.
It was almost too much. Very close to too much.