On Second Thought(64)

I went over to the shower. It had three showerheads-north, south and  above-one of those rainshower things, as well as a detachable sprayer.  On the shelf, there was a line of products-lemongrass soap, shampoo,  conditioner and moisturizer. A razor. A loofah. There was a control  panel (don't judge me...this was all Nathan's idea) where you could  adjust the temperature of the water and which showerheads to use.         

     



 

I waved a hand. Nothing. Jazz hands failed to get us light. I moved  closer to the control panel, thinking there must be a switch there.  Temperature, steam feature, tile heating. Nothing that said light.

I waved again. This time, for some reason, the lights went on.

So did the water, from every possible source. And it was freezing. I scrambled back with a yelp and collided with Daniel.

He was laughing. "Yay for you," he said, holding on to my elbows. "You found it."

The water from the rainshower had soaked me through. Daniel, too. It got  warm almost immediately, running down my face, my back, soaking my  jeans.

Streamed in fascinating rivulets down Daniel, pooling in the indentation  above his collarbone, down his beautiful, thick chest and arms, into  the waistband of his jeans.

"Well," I said, my voice husky, "have fun."

"I will." But he didn't let go of my arms, just looked at me with that slight smile.

Then he kissed me.

For a second, I didn't move.

Then I did. My mouth did, anyway, and all the loneliness and emptiness  I'd been feeling seemed to leap out of me. Daniel's hands slid into my  wet hair, and my arms went around his neck, feeling the power of his  muscles, and he felt so good, so beautiful, that I almost cried.

I missed being touched. I missed touching another person who wasn't my sister or niece. I missed someone wanting me.

And hot damn, he knew what he was doing-he was Daniel the Hot  Firefighter, after all, and I was finally seeing what all the fuss was  about. He kissed me like he was planning to do just that for hours,  slow, intense, wet kisses, his mouth moving and testing. His big hands  wandered down my back, then he bent and picked me up and pressed me  against the shower wall, his mouth never leaving mine.

He felt so good. I mean, he was basically a god, physically speaking,  and he felt so strong and big, his skin slippery and wet and warm, his  muscles rolling, holding me up without apparent effort, his arms rock  hard under my hands.

And he was smiling against my mouth. For some reason, that did more than everything else.

I missed this. I missed sex. I missed the feeling of a man, the scrape  of his razor stubble, the amassed strength. After all these months of me  fading away, someone knew I was here.

"I don't have anything with me," he murmured against my ear, "but I  think I can make you happy just the same." Then his mouth moved to my  throat, and lower, and my hands fisted in his hair, tugging his mouth  back to mine.

"I have something. Just...just... I'll be back in a second." On legs  that barely worked, I staggered out of the shower, down the hall to my  bedroom, leaving a trail of water the whole way. I didn't even care.

There were condoms in the night table drawer on Nathan's side of the  bed, back from before we were trying to get pregnant. From before we  were married.

I wouldn't think about Nathan now. He was gone, he'd still had feelings  for Madeleine and I was so, so tired of being sad. I'd been disappearing  for months now.

Daniel saw me, and not just because I was standing in front of him. He'd  come here, to me, to tell me about his new niece. That day in the park,  when I'd fallen asleep, he'd been sitting next to me when I woke up.

Don't overthink this, I told myself. I heard Max telling me to be nice to myself. Ainsley saying I deserved some fun.

I ran back down the hall, the half-empty box in my hand. He was getting out of the shower.

He really was beautiful. There was no other word for it. But his  expression was somber. "I'm sorry about that," he said, not looking at  me. "Obviously, we don't have to do anything, and I get the feeling I  really, uh, overstepped there."

"You didn't."

He looked at me a long minute. "You took your time."

"I wanted to make sure this was a good idea."

"Is it?"

"It is."

His mouth pulled up in an abrupt smile. "Thank God. I thought you were  trying to figure out how to get rid of me." Then he crossed the room and  kissed me again, a hard, whole-body kiss, and, being that he was six  foot three and a wall of perfection, just scooped me right up and kept  going till we hit the bed. Bounced me down on it and said, "Let's get  you out of those wet clothes, then," and proceeded to get me naked.  Fast.

It was fun. It was fun and horny and hot, and he was beautiful and  smiley, chiseled and rippling, heavy and delicious on top of me, and for  a while, I felt like my old self again.

Happy.





Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ainsley

Jonathan's house seemed more beautiful each time I saw it-the old  farmhouse high on a hill, no neighbors in sight, a view of fields and  woods, and in the distance, the silvery wink of the Hudson.         

     



 

But it was now Friday morning, and he was kicking me out so we could  both get to work, so I had to go. The birds were singing full-on, and  the mist was rising off the river, and the world was beautiful and new.

Last night, we'd had an honest-to-goodness date. A glass of wine while  sitting out on the slate patio, under a big maple tree that shushed with  the breeze, watching the sun lower in the clear summer sky. Then we  drove across the river to a beautiful restaurant in a former mill  building, our table overlooking a waterfall.

At first, I did my usual isn't she wonderful? repertoire, gently  flirting with both Jonathan and the waiter, making sure Jonathan  remembered he did indeed like me. Sleeping with the boss was harder than  it looked; this whole week, there'd been absolutely no affection or  lovey-dovey stuff between us at work. So it was normal, in a sense, but  every time he walked by, I felt my cheeks warm. I was so used to being  in trouble at work, I couldn't tell if it was lust or guilt. And he  seemed completely unaffected that he'd seen me naked. It was a little  bruising on the old ego.

So I tried to bring it on our date, in case he was thinking that I was a  terrible mistake. I told what I thought was a pretty funny story  involving my old job at NBC. It was a classic cocktail party story in my  repertoire, in which a goat had gotten loose from a set and ended up  falling asleep under Matt Lauer's desk, making Matt scream when he sat  down and the goat bolted past him.

"Nothing to say?" I asked when he just nodded at the end of the story.

He shook his head.

"Well, that sucks, because that was one of my best stories."

"You don't have to impress me, you know."

"Well, I'd like to. It beats unimpressing you."

"You're fine the way you are."

I almost sighed before realizing it was-possibly-a compliment. He looked  at me from across the table, still in his suit from work, though he'd  taken off his tie.

"If it makes you happy to talk, then talk," he said. "But I like just being with you, too."

Which he proved later, in bed. Twice.

It was funny, I thought as I drove home. My role in the relationship  with Eric had always been to be charming and funny and bright and  animated with him, with his parents, with his friends and coworkers.

Just being... I wasn't a hundred percent sure how to do that.

But one thing was for sure. I was not about to turn myself inside out  for Jonathan, or any guy. I'd based my life around Eric and our  relationship. That wasn't going to happen again. At least, that was what  I told myself. Jonathan was my boss and boyfriend now, and it could be  said quite truthfully that a huge part of my life was indeed based  around him.

I pulled into Kate's driveway, once again doing the walk of shame (though damn proud of it), went into the kitchen and screamed.

A very large man was there.

"Hey," he said. "How's it going?"

"Who are you, and why are you wearing my sister's shirt?" I yelped.

"How do you know it's your sister's?" he asked calmly.

"Because Derek Jeter's signature is on the back, and our dad got us those for Christmas a few years ago."

He smiled. "I'm Daniel Breton."

"Daniel the Hot Firefighter?"

He smiled. "One and the same."

"And you're here because..." My eyes widened. "Did you sleep with Kate?"

His smile grew.

"Holy guacamole! I'm gone for one night, and this place turns into a sex palace! Pour me some coffee and tell me what happened."

He got another cup and poured. "Keep your voice down. She's still sleeping."

I melted a little. He cared about my sister's sleep. I loved him  already. Plus, he was freakin' beautiful. In all the years I'd visited  Kate in Brooklyn, I had only heard the legend of Daniel the Hot  Firefighter.

The stories hadn't done him justice.