Bad Boy's Bridesmaid(27)

I tugged a pillow back and clutched it to my chest. It wasn't the best  defense against him, but I wanted to be cautious. If Nate hadn't noticed  a difference in my body at the cabin, I doubted he'd randomly guess  about the baby now.

His baby.

I liked the sound of it.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

Nate smirked. "About what? Dangerous question, baby. You might want to be more specific."

True. I had too many questions and not enough courage to ask them.

What do you want to do about the baby? How do we handle having a child?  Would you like to be involved? Do you think it's okay that we aren't  together?

...Should we get together?

Like that wouldn't create a mess of complications. I'd stick to the stickiest issue at the moment.

"What do we do about my mom and Bryce's dad?"

Nate answered immediately with a decisive wave of his hand. "Absolutely nothing."         

     



 

"Nothing?"

"Not our problem."

"But he's married-"

"You can't save everyone's relationship," Nate said. "Hell, most people  can't save their own. He knew what he did, and so did your mom."

I squeezed the pillow. "Just feels … crummy."

"It shouldn't. You're too fixated on everyone else's relationships."

He stretched out against the couch, arms on the back as if baiting me to  scooch close and snuggle against his chest. That was the type of  thinking that got me in trouble in the beginning.

"Hell, you're too obsessed with relationships in general," he said.

"At least I'm giving them some thought, unlike you who runs at the first sign of commitment."

"I'm not afraid of commitment."

"Then why haven't you found someone yet?"

"Who says I haven't?"

My throat closed. "Have you?"

"There you go again." Nate teased. "Always thinking of other people's love lives instead of your own."

"Believe me, I'm focused on mine."

"Are you?"

I answered honestly. "Why do you think I keep pushing you away?"

"I'd love to know."

He curled a finger for me to come closer, but there was only one way  that game would end. I shook my head and dug into my side of the couch.

That only baited him.

I should have stopped him.

I should have pushed him away.

Nate crawled over me, pinning me in the corner with a hand on the  couch's arm and back. The pillow was a good choice. It kept a solid four  inches between us, enough room that I'd have to lean forward to take a  kiss.

And that was a dangerous and foolish thing to do.

"You were saying, baby?" Nate shifted, knocking my legs open so he could get even closer. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

I was doing a really lousy job of it now. "Because you're bad for me."

"Am I?" He leaned a little closer, and his hoppy, masculine scent dizzied my head. "Be honest."

"You're the only man I've ever let this close."

"That doesn't make me bad for you."

"It doesn't make you good."

"I think you're scared."

I smirked. "I've already had sex with you, Nate. A couple times. I can't be scared of that anymore."

"Maybe you're scared because you like it."

"I think you know I do."

"Sure, I've figured it out." He dropped closer to me. Was he always this  warm? I stared at his lips as he whispered. "But you're worried about  admitting it."

"Okay. I admit it. I like having sex with you." I shook my head. "Now what?"

"We do it again. And again. And again." His lips touched mine, the tiniest graze. "And you'll like it more and more each time."

"This is why you're dangerous to me. You make sex sound so … easy."

He smiled. "It is."

"And good."

His voice rumbled. "It's very good."

"And simple."

"I'm a simple man, baby. I gotta have air to breathe, food to eat, and you for everything else."

His kiss was as sweet as his words.

"You shouldn't say things like that," I said.

"Why not?"

"I might start believing you."

His hand caressed my cheek. "You should. I'm telling you the truth. When  I say I want you … " He kissed me again, his tongue flicking mine. "I  want you. When I say you're beautiful." He brushed the hair from my  face. "I mean you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. And when I  say I can't stop thinking about you … "

His hand drifted along my hip. I imagined him touching low on my belly, where the baby rested.

I wished he might have done it.

"It means you're the only girl I've wanted since I took you that first  time." His eyes flashed a deep and genuine green. "Mandy, I haven't  fucked anyone else since we hooked up two months ago. No one else could  compare."

Oh.

I wasn't ready for that. For him. For his kiss or his touch or his  honesty. He pulled the pillow away, or maybe I tossed it to the side. It  didn't matter. My arms circled his neck, and I surrendered to him.

His hands tickled my sides, aiming for my jeans. I didn't protest as his  zipper tugged down or my pants came off, but I searched him for any  hint, any indication of what he expected.

Or what I expected.         

     



 

"What happens after this?" I whispered. "When we've had each other again?"

"There you go, worrying about the future." His touch silenced me,  brushing his fingers along the warmth pooling between my legs. "I'm  going to make sure you focus on right now. Don't worry about what  happens later."

"It's important."

"Not as important as this."

I gasped as his hardness pressed against my core. The slickness should  have shamed me, but we were beyond embarrassment or surprise at our  reaction for the other.

I wanted him. He wanted me.

And maybe I should have thought only of that moment.

Just of me and him.

Together.

He thrust inside me, and my delighted cry echoed with his determined  grunt. The strength of his body ached me with such a perfect and  wonderful power, something that built and swayed and controlled me with  the demands of his movement.

It was a bad idea to let him get this close. Every thrust heated me  beyond control, and every wave of pleasure teased me with the thought of  more than just this short time with him.

I envisioned a dozen moments leading to a handful of days then a span of  weeks and finally the joy that could be the rest of our lives.

I don't know when it happened, but my feelings for him grew until they  were no longer a simple crush. Every time I welcomed him deep within me,  my addiction to him strengthened. He was the wrong man who might have  given me the right things. I couldn't risk losing his touch, his kiss,  this amazingly full feeling.

So I didn't think of the future. Nothing of the baby or the wedding or even what I'd say after I gave myself to him again.

I welcomed the simplicity and wove myself deeper into the knot I cast.

And I wondered if I'd ever be able to unravel it.





14





Nate





I was pretty certain I'd slept with the stripper.

We lived in a small town, and not many people escaped to the bigger  cities. I couldn't remember her name, but I recognized the tattoo. She  had a tribal band inked over her bicep.

I'd liked it then. Now I wasn't sure what I saw in her. The ink marred what should have been beautiful skin.

Now Mandy … she had beautiful skin. Smooth. Dark. Soft …

Too bad she wasn't performing.

The stripper did her dance. The guys at the bar hooted.

Rick did his best to offer Bryce the same excitement Lindsey demanded  from her bachelorette party, but Bryce refused the night out and opted  for a couple drinks in my bar.

I wasn't sure he tasted them. He had five beers before he said a single  word, and he wasn't too excited about the stripper. The guys thought she  was pretty, and all women who glued tassels to their nipples had an  entertaining quality about them, but Bryce wasn't interested.

Then again, neither was I.

The stripper was once my type-fake and blonde-but she didn't do it for me this time.

Son of a bitch, I knew why.

She wasn't Mandy.

She didn't have her curves. Didn't share that innocent quirk in her smile. Didn't have the gentle swell of her breasts.

She didn't have her laugh. Her sense of humor. The tinkling little sing-song inflection to her words.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember fucking the stripper. Couldn't.

All I pictured was Mandy, and it was a damn good memory. I remembered  the first time I took her, I still fantasized about that night under the  stars, and I relived those perfect hours on her couch when I forgot to  breathe, to think, to do anything but stare in her eyes as we moved  together in a perfect embrace.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I never liked it gentle before, and suddenly I was … making love?

Jesus, I needed to shotgun a couple beers too.

I broke out a new brew I'd saved specifically for the bachelor party.  Bryce liked the darker ales, and I made a recipe in his honor. I raised  the glass, and the dozen friends we invited to join the festivities  readied for a toast.