“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” I ask, befuddled.
“You're crying…I'm so sorry. I was too rough, I went too quickly, I—” he rushes on, sounding horrified.
My brain tries to catch up with him. “No, no. It didn't hurt. I didn't even realize I was crying. Everything felt amazing.”
His body relaxes against mine. “I was so scared for a second there. I thought I hurt you.”
“No, honestly…” I reach up to touch my face, and he's right—my cheeks are damp. “That's so strange. This doesn't happen a lot?”
He pulls himself up so he can look at me with an ironic grin. “I do try not to make girls cry, Brynn.”
I laugh. “I'm sorry, I just meant…I wondered if this happens to other girls. I suppose I don't usually…you know, let go of control like that. Maybe the emotional release…”
“Maybe. Just as long as you're OK.”
“I'm more than OK,” I assure him.
“Sore?”
I nod. “A little.”
“I'll get you some water,” he says, kissing the back of my shoulder before gently pulling out of me. He comes back from the bathroom with a glass for me, and sits up in bed with me as I drink it.
“I wish you could sleep here,” I murmur, resting my head on his shoulder. I feel spent, relaxed…and happy.
“Me too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next morning, I wake up reaching for Nate, but he's gone. I turn over onto my back in frustration. I thought that after we had sex my desire for him might fade a bit, become more manageable, but it's even stronger now. Even though I can feel a little soreness and pain between my legs, I want him to take me again, and again, and again.
I glance at the clock and am shocked to see it's almost noon. Well, I guess I did have a big day yesterday, between almost sliding down that cliff and losing my virginity. I slide under the sheets to the side of the bed and sit up on the edge. I roll my ankle and find that there's barely any pain, though I guess I should leave the tape on for one more day just to be safe.
I stand and pull on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt and head downstairs to the kitchen and fix myself some breakfast. My mom walks in just as I'm sitting down at the breakfast table.
“Wow, that's a lot of food, Brynn,” she comments, raising her eyebrows at the amount of eggs and toast on my plate.
“Starving,” I reply, pausing only momentarily then continuing to shovel food into my mouth.
“I can see that. How's your ankle?”
“Lot better.” I clear my throat. I need to stop acting weird or my mom will know something's up. I put down my fork. “Did you have a nice lunch with Pierce yesterday? Where'd you go?”
“The Palm,” she replies. “It was lovely. Pierce is a regular there and always gets the best table.”
“Oh, good.” I glance up as Nate slides opens the door from outside. He winks at me and I quickly bury my head back in my food so that my mom can't see the blush spreading across my cheeks.
“Just returning from your morning workout, Nate?” my mom asks as she begins to fix herself some tea. “You're both getting such late starts today.”
“Must've been that hike,” Nate replies nonchalantly. “How's your ankle?”
“Lot better,” I repeat, holding it out from under the table and rolling it around to demonstrate.
“Better keep the tape on for another day just to be safe.”
“That's just what I was thinking.”
“Anybody want some coffee? I'm just putting some water on,” my mom breaks in.
“Yes, please,” we both chorus.
“You know, I'm so glad you two are getting along. That 'step' word has such a bad connotation, I suppose because of Cinderella…you know, the wicked stepsisters. But of course, having a bigger family can be such a positive thing,” she muses, turning up the burner on the stovetop. I watch her for a moment, wondering if she's trying to bring up something about what I said to her last night, about how she needs to get involved in Pierce's harsh treatment of his son.
“Very positive,” Nate replies seriously, not looking at me as I glare at him warningly. It is so not the time for one of his smartass comments.
“Pierce and I are going to the farmer's market in about an hour. You guys want to come?”
And miss a chance to be alone with Nate? “I was thinking I was just going to sit by the pool today,” I reply. “Give my ankle a little more time to heal.”
“Probably wise,” my mom agrees. “What about you, Nate?”
“I have to, um…” he trails off, trying to come up with an excuse. “You know, I think my friend Jackson might swing by later, so I better stay home.”