The Cheat Sheet

“But what about college? You completely pushed me away then. I thought I did something wrong.”

Oh. That.

I smooth a hand down the front of his shirt, suddenly very concerned about wrinkles. I guess while we’re emptying our emotional tanks, I might as well go ahead and squeeze a little more out. “I’m so sorry, Nathan. I pushed you away because I was terrified. I could see the way you were thinking of turning down your UT scholarship to stay home with me, and although I never told you, I was really depressed after the car accident. I was afraid you were about to completely give up your dreams for me, and after hanging around me in my mopey, angry, defeated state, you’d realize I wasn’t worth your time anymore and resent me. I was scared you’d see me low and heartbroken and not want me like that. So I pushed you away. I’m sorry, Nathan. I Old-Yellered you.”

His hand tenderly cradles my face. “I never would have felt that way. I’ve always just wanted to be the one to take care of you.”

“I know that now. But back then, depression told its own story, and it was hard to hear the truth through it.”

He dips his head and sighs against my throat. “Well, hear me now: I adore you, Bree. When you’re happy or sad, I love you.” Nathan lays a slow, open-mouthed kiss on my neck and climbs up to my mouth.

Heat swirls in my belly, and my head tips back to receive his lips. Softly, they sweep over mine. He gently tastes the corner of my mouth, and I part my lips to reciprocate. I am a puddle. So melted he has to hold me up. Kisses by themselves are nice; kisses after a declaration of love are life-changing.

I’m lifted off the floor and tossed playfully onto his bed. A laugh rips through me until Nathan grabs the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head. His eyes are as dark as the sky at his back. I swallow thickly as he moves to hover over me. His weight. GAH. Golden taut skin. OOF. That ripped abdomen I finally get to dance my fingers across. MMM.

Nathan smiles down at me as I explore every inch of his exposed skin. I rise up and kiss one pec. Then the other. I lightly bite his bicep, and he laughs. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

I innocently bat my lashes at him, and he dips his head to crush his mouth against mine. This one is not soft or tender. It’s

years and years and years of waiting. It’s a desperate breath at the surface of the water when you’re rescued from drowning. I cling to him for dear life. He kisses me deeply, thoroughly, lavishly. His hand slides under the back of my shirt, and that calloused skin scrapes delicious fire over mine. I feel branded.

Nathan is everywhere. And I am full of need. I have fallen for this man so completely, and now we’re finally here together, twisting in his sheets, kissing like it might be ripped away from us at any moment. Kissing like we love each other. He whispers soft declarations over my skin that I won’t repeat. They are for me and me alone.

Suddenly, Nathan pulls away, a drugged look in his eyes when he smooths the hairs away from my face. Breathless, he lets out a guttural groan, coming to some sort of unvoiced conclusion in his head. He adjusts onto his elbow beside me. “Bree, I want everything with you right now more than anything, but…dammit. I can’t believe I’m going to say this. I think we should wait.”

Shocked doesn’t begin to describe how I feel hearing those words, especially since he’s been celibate for so long. But I won’t lie, part of me is sort of grateful. I’m a girl who likes to be prepared for these kinds of things, mentally and physically, and tonight was so unexpected; I know I’m not in the right headspace for it yet. I need a little digesting time.

But then Nathan shocks me in a less-than-pleasant way when he continues, “Actually, I…I sort of want to wait until we’re married.”

WHAT!? My brain screeches to a halt. Did he say married?! Did he propose at some point tonight and I missed it?

My eyes must convey my thoughts because Nathan’s smile widens and he trails his finger down my neck to dance lightly over my collarbone. Conflicting body language there, buddy. “Don’t worry, I’m not proposing yet. But I know you don’t like to be surprised by stuff, so this is me saying I will propose to you at some point. And I’m hoping you’re okay with that time being pretty soon, because I feel like we’ve already been dating for six years, just not officially.”

He’s right, and I tell him so. I’ve never known another human more intimately than I know Nathan, and best friends like us don’t casually date. It was an unspoken agreement that by declaring our feelings, we were saying, I’m all in. You’re it for me.

“I agree,” I say in between his teasing kisses and light nips at my bottom lip. “But why wait until we’re married? That seems so…”

“Old fashioned?” he asks, his fingers feathering down my arm to trace my bare ring finger. He presses a firm kiss against my temple. “I know. I won’t lie, that’s part of the appeal. If I’ve learned anything over the past few weeks, it’s that I’ve never really had to pursue romance before. You know? Savor the little touches”—his knuckles brush against my belly, and it tightens—“instead of just going for it right away.”

A jealous little troll rises up inside me that he’s gone for it right away with so many women before, but I tell it to get lost. Because I’m the one who’s with him now, and hopefully forever.

He gazes into my eyes with a longing smile. “I just want to do things differently with you, Bree.”

I breathe in his scent and let my heart steep in it. “Okay. We’ll wait.” I grin up at him and poke him in the cheek. “You’re such a big softie.”

“With you, yes.”

He kisses me again, this time softly, sweetly, gratefully. He rises up onto one muscled arm to lean over me and turn off the light. That powerful image of muscles and tendons and masculine flesh is the last one I’ll see tonight, and it does nothing to cool me off.

Nathan drops down beside me and pulls me onto his chest. I kiss it. “Just don’t spread it around that I’m a marshmallow,” he says in a teasing tone. “It’ll kill my image.”

“Which image? The one of you secretly sneaking hundred-dollar bills into my widowed neighbor’s mailbox? Or you buying an entire building so little ballerinas can continue to afford their training?”

He kisses the top of my head, and I don’t miss the moment he breathes in the scent of my hair. We’re home in each other’s arms. I nuzzle into his strong chest like a little cat. It is a done deal. I’d marry him in five minutes if that were an option.

“It’s all for you, Bree.”

Saturday, Bree and I sleep in until ten o’clock. I can’t remember the last time I did that. High school, maybe? I wake up a few times and never once feel the urge to get up and get my day going. Everything I want is right here in my arms. Drooling.