White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

For the first time in a long time, I've woken up to rays of sunlight warming up the window glass. Usually, the maximum amount of sleep I'd get was around a few hours, and even then, I would always find myself awake in the middle of the night.

As it turns out, I had slept through what was left of the night and most of the afternoon. And it felt fantastic.

I also hadn't been alone.

Nathan's warm, firm chest felt so supple against my cheek. The steady beating of his heart sounded like music, lulling my eyes closed again. His breathing was deep and even, with his soft exhale gently tickling my forehead. His arms were solid around me, and just as I was about to melt into deeper contentment, he wordlessly pulled me tighter against him. That chocolate and cinnamon aftershave engulfed me.

I sighed.

No longer did I feel numb and cold – Nathan's heat and energy had chased it all away. Our clothes had been shed and discarded all along the floor, telling the story of what had occurred last night.

A pair of shoes had somehow been left along the hallway – one down the flight of stairs, and the other at the room's entrance. My bra was clinging to the door handle by the strap, near where Nate had pinned me against the wall. Disheveling me, peeling me apart slowly, worshipping my soft, puckered skin with his mouth. Kneeling down, hastily removing whatever article of clothing stood in his way. And God, the ungodly noises that poured out of me...

I clamped a hand over my mouth, alarmed at the thought of waking our sleeping neighbors. Nathan stopped. His lips and tongue moved away from where I wanted them most, maneuvering himself upwards – removing my hand. "I love hearing you." He was smirking, and looked positively wicked against the silvery light. "And I love you. I need to hear you."

Strewn across his desk chair were his jeans – with the belt still looped and intact. I had been in such a rush to consume him; to finish what I'd started in that car. I'd thrown Nathan onto that chair and climbed onto his lap, wrapping myself around him and succumbing to that building urgency. Igniting my bones, making me feel heady and bold. Eagerly undoing his pants – and those eyes watching me, ravenous, amazed at such boldness. His husky laughter when my eagerness got the better of me – a laughter cut very short once my hands had slithered downwards, quickly replaced by his panting. Those moans.

I could've died right then.

"Jesus," he grunted. He was a vision – shirt open, chest heaving. Skin glistening. "If we don't make it to that bed right now, so help me I'll never forgive myself."

The trail of clothes ended by the bed. His shirt and my skirt were a messy puddle spilled along the floor. We did end up making it to the bed, after all. And it was everything I'd imagined.

Nathan had delivered on his promise – it had been real, and perfect, and special.

Both the first and second round.

I stretched out my sore limbs languorously, feeling my mouth with surprise. I laughed to myself – my lips were tender from so much kissing. The sheets that surrounded me were exactly how I remembered them at the night of Nathan's party – crisp and soft against my bare legs. Somewhere in the back of my half-asleep mind, I knew my mother would be having a heart attack upon the realization that I hadn't been in my bedroom, getting ready for school. But I couldn't yet bring myself to care. Not in that moment.

Let it wait for another lifetime. Nothing else mattered beyond this.

I loved him. And he loved me back.