Catch Me (32 page)

Wiping my tears with my hands, I bring my face to his, grab his head and kiss him deeply, thanking him for that day and for every time he’s ever looked at me and made me feel like everything. He carries me to the elevator, not letting go of me as he unlocks his door and stalks straight to his room, lying me down on his bed. I let out a breath as my body sinks into the softness of his comforter and prop myself up on my elbows to watch him kick off his shoes.

“Can I take a shower?” I ask, feeling rundown from the long day and knowing I still have a lot ahead of me to get through.

He tilts his head and smiles at me. “We can do anything you want to do,” he responds.

“Anything?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

His smile widens and he stalks toward me, pulling his shirt over his head on the way. My eyes trail from the Wilde tattoo on his inner arm to the music notes over his ribs. Once again, his body takes my breath away, but the look in his eyes, the one that tells me he wants to devour me in one sitting, that’s what makes me stop breathing all together.

“Do you have wine?” I ask, almost panting and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.

Nick chuckles as he pulls me to stand. “Yes, but you can’t have any.”

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “What?”

“You heard me,” he murmurs, kissing my neck, making my head loll to the other side on its own accord. “No drinking. I want you sober.”

It’s almost as if he can read my damn thoughts and I hate it. Except I don’t. I am worried about how this is going to happen, though. Thankfully his blinds are shielding the light that the setting sun is bathing the bedroom in.

“Can we shower together?” I ask, my voice small. I feel like a coward suddenly. I feel like I’ve been stripped bare for him, and even though I’m still fully dressed, I’ve never felt so naked in my life.

“You sure?” he asks quietly, sweeping my hair from my eyes to look at me. I respond by leaning up on the balls of my feet and wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He moans when my tongue touches his and lifts me up, holding my bottom as he carries me into the bathroom.

Without letting me go or breaking our kiss, he switches on the shower. The fleeting thought that he must have done this a million times before crosses my mind, but I don’t let it sit there, I push it right out. When he sets me on my feet and releases me, looking at me as if I’m a pond of water in the desert, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the side, my bra quickly following. His eyes stay on my face, searching, and then trail down to my breasts. He throws his head back with a groan before looking at me and kissing me again.

This isn’t a sweet kiss like the one before; it’s a possessive kiss that leaves my head swimming in desire. His lips graze down my jaw, my neck, the valley of my breasts, until he finally pulls a nipple into his mouth. My body begins to shiver at the sensation. It feels so good that I have to hold on to his head with both hands, losing myself in the power of his tongue as it swirls around each one. He falls to his knees suddenly and continues his exploration with his mouth until he reaches the top of my jeans, which he unbuttons and peels off along with my boy short underwear.

Grabbing my hips, he presses his face to me, his tongue traveling over the inside of my legs, from one thigh to the other. He takes his time, gently teasing me, taking me to the edge without doing much other than massaging my ass in his hands and sucking every inch of skin between my thighs. He pushes me up to the counter and spreads my legs wide, placing a hand on the inside of each thigh, and runs his tongue up and down my folds at a slow, torturous pace. I throw my head back and moan deeply, trying to keep my hands on his head, tugging his hair, begging for more, but I can’t even form words. The feel of his tongue on me is too much as it is, so when he tweaks my nipples with his fingers, the way he tweaks the buttons on the soundboards, I fall over the edge, the orgasm hitting so hard that all I can do is scream his name.

Nick stands up, shedding his jeans and briefs as he does it, but I don’t have time to admire any of it because my eyes are still half closed. I bring my gaze up to his face and admire the way he looks at me through hooded eyes, making me feel desired, sexy; everything I’ve ever wanted to feel is bottled up in the look he’s giving me right now. His chest is rising and falling heavily as he scoops me up and takes me into the shower, walking under the water that sprays over us. He backs me against the wall, placing his lips against mine. He doesn’t give me a warning; he just squeezes my bottom and groans loudly as he pushes into me with a hard thrust that makes me gasp for air as I throw my head back on the wall behind me.

“Oh my God,” I scream, my fingernails digging into his flesh, making him pound into me harder. This is completely unlike the last time we had sex. This is rough, possessive; this is primal. His moans and dirty words make me feel like I’m about to go over the edge, and just when I gasp, feeling a bolt of electricity coursing through me, he slows down the pace and looks at me, his eyes wild with hunger, need.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice raspy and guttural, and that’s all it takes for me to fall.

“At what time are those people you’re supposed to watch going to perform?” Nick asks as we lay on his bed facing each other.

I groan at the reminder of all of the things I have to do. “They’ll be there at nine,” I mumble, pouting my lip at the thought of not having more alone time with Nick.

He bites my pout and sucks it into his mouth. “God, you’re sexy,” he growls before letting go of me to get out of bed. Wrapping the comforter around my body, I sit up to watch him pull his jeans over his briefs and loop his belt on. He stops at the belt buckle, glimpsing up at me with a smirk when he catches me watching him.

“You’re not going to get dressed?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I fight a smile. “Soon. I’m just enjoying the show.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he pulls a soft grey T-shirt over his head. He pulls on his hair to style it in the middle, stops mid-finger comb, and yanks my exposed feet, making me yelp. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he raises my feet to his mouth and presses a kiss on each of the tiny anchors I have on the insides of my ankles.

“What’s the story behind these?” he asks. “You into pirates?”

My laughter comes out sounding more like a “pffft” as I look at him in amusement. “No. They keep me grounded.”

His brows raise as if that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and he nods in appreciation. “They’re cute,” he comments, his face looking unsure about something.

“What?” I ask, sitting up.

He shrugs and brings his eyes to mine. “They sink … anchors,” he says quietly.

I smile slightly, bringing my hands to cup his worried face. “They also keep the vessel from moving into dangerous waters in the ocean. It depends how you look at it,” I reply with a shrug. Nick’s worried look begins to dissipate as he looks into my eyes, and a slow smile begins to form on his lips. He leans into my hands, pushing towards me until his nose is touching mine.

“I like that answer,” he whispers, his lips meeting mine in a slow sweet kiss that doesn’t fail to leave me breathless. He backs away from me slowly, his eyes intently on mine as if he’s searing this moment in his head, and I do the same. Watching him walk to the bathroom, I wonder if his lips will always feel that good against mine, if his kisses will always be that pure. After pondering that for a moment, I stand up and dress as quickly as I can, tying my hair back into a ponytail with the elastic I have in the back pocket of my jeans.

He reappears and leans on the threshold of the bathroom door, crossing his muscular arms over his chest as he looks at me. “That was fast,” he says, pushing off of the door and walking toward me. It doesn’t matter that we just had sex, not for the first time, and that I’ve seen him more times than I can count with both of my hands, the way he makes me feel when he looks at me as he walks towards me takes my breath away every time.

When he reaches me, he curls his arm around me to tug my ponytail. “Will you stay here with me?” he asks.

I want to say yes so bad, especially with the hopeful look in his eyes. I look at the ruffled sheets beside us and smile. I wonder what all of this feels like for him. I wonder if it’s even remotely close to the way it makes me feel, like it’s everything. I wonder if he’ll shower when I’m not here and think of me and what we shared in there, or if he’s done it so many times that it’ll just be a distant memory to him. I want to ask him what all of this means to him. I want to ask him if he’s as caught up in me as I am in him, but I can’t. I know I’ll sound like a stage five clinger and I don’t want him to think I’m some crazy person who’s planned out our entire future together based on amazing sex. The idea that it may have been just sex to him makes me want to cry. I realize as I look at him that I really do drown in him. I really have given him everything I have left of myself.

I shake my head slowly, lowering my eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I whisper.

He cups my chin to look at him. “Why not?” he asks, frowning.

Because I’m scared that I’ll fall in love with you … because I don’t want to attach myself to someone who’s going to realize I’m not all that and leave me high and dry. I don’t say any of these things, of course. I just let them consume my thoughts.

“Didn’t you say you would stay at the hotel?” I ask with a small smile.

He exhales. “I thought maybe I would’ve changed your mind, but I’ll stay over there.”

I lean in and kiss him. “Thank you,” I say against his lips.

“For the record, we’re sharing a bed,” he says, raising an eyebrow as if daring me to argue with him.

I just laugh and bite down on my lip again, unwilling to tell him that I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nick is too full of himself to need the constant reminders of how good looking he is or how he’ll probably always get his way. The ride back to the hotel is different. I feel more at peace with myself, with everything. Nick lowers the music and points out a park, slowing down as we near it, and tells me he used to play little league there. He points out the different places he used to hang out growing up, and it feels like a double-edged sword. It warms my heart that he’s sharing his experiences with me, but it makes me sad that my only good experiences were with Ryan and even that went wrong in my life. I went through a phase where I shut everybody out, and ended up with less than a handful of people because of it. I don’t feel like I experienced my youth to the fullest. I love that I can live vicariously through somebody like Nick, though.

“Can I ask you about your time in rehab?” Nick asks quietly when we stop at a red light.

I take a breath and let it out quickly, turning my body to face him. “Sure, what do you wanna know?”

His face looks relieved when I answer. “I saw that you went right after the hospital,” he says slowly, taking a breath before continuing. “That was the last I heard or saw about you after I left the hospital that day …”

I swallow back the sadness marinating within me, reminding myself that the important thing is that he’s beside me now, even though I’m not sure what that means for this, for us. “They kept me in the hospital for a couple of days after I woke up to monitor me, then forty-eight more hours to make sure I wasn’t going to try to kill myself again,” I roll my eyes at the memory. “Then my parents decided I needed to go to rehab. My dad was scared because his mom was an addict so he thought it ran in our blood, I dunno. My mom just wanted to lock me up somewhere so that people wouldn’t point fingers at her and tell her what a disgrace of a mother she was,” I scoff.

“Long story short, I went for a month and loved it. I didn’t feel like I needed it to keep me off drugs. I knew what I had to do to stay off of those, I needed to get rid of the people I was hanging around. When I was in there less than a handful of people came to visit me, so when I got out, I started shedding friends like layers of winter clothing and found that even if I got cold, I would rather build my own damn fire. I was better off without them.” I shrug, letting him know that’s all there was to it.

He brings my hand to his face and brushes the back of it against his lips. “You’re a brave woman, Brooklyn.”

His words make me smile.

“I’m just a woman. I think being brave comes with the territory; it’s just taking me a while to fully uncover it.”

He steals a glance at me. “You haven’t used since you got out though, right?” he asks.