Hooked on You Page 19

  “I guess they called it a night. Time for me to do the same,” Albert says.

  “Night.”

  He shuts the door, and I wait until he disappears inside. Then, I grab my phone and text:

  Nate: You asleep?

  Kira: No. There are too many strange noises, and I’m still cold even with all these blankets.

  Nate: Want me to come warm you?

  I quietly exit my vehicle, close the door softly, and hurry up the hill to the clearing.

  Kira: As nice as that sounds, it’s late and I wouldn’t want to put you out. You have to work in the morning.

  Nate: What if I want to put out?

  Kira: Has this conversation just gone south?

  Nate: Would you believe I’m right outside your tent?

  Kira: You’re kidding.

  The zipper cuts through the quiet, and a second later, Kira peeks her head out.

  “Get in here,” she whispers.

  I climb into the warm tent. “Looks cozy.”

  “Better now that you’re here.”

  “Did you have fun tonight?”

  “So much fun,” she says, her voice low. “But I think you being here is against the rules.”

  “I’m just here to get you warm,” I say. I take off my coat and boots and climb into the sleeping bag. “Come here.” She crawls in with me, and it’s snug for the two of us, but her body stops shaking as I press mine to hers.

  “Mmm, this is nice,” she says and snuggles in closer.

  Man, she has no idea how nice this is for me, how I could so get used to this.

  “What happened with the cow?” she asks, her voice low and drowsy.

  “We got her home. She’s safe. Sam wanted to keep her.”

  That pulls a chuckle from her. “He needs a pet. Remember you talked about getting a cat to hunt the mouse?”

  “Uh-huh,” I murmur.

  “I should have said yes. He’d probably pretend he wasn’t a cat person. But I bet I know where kitty would sleep every night. I think that man needs something to love.”

  “Or someone.” I run my hand up and down her arm. “Warming up?”

  “Yeah,” she says groggily. “Nate…”

  I press my lips to the side of her neck, my heart beating a little faster as she melts against me. Goddammit, it’s getting harder and harder to remember this is just about sex. “Yeah?”

  “You’re…I…” A long pause and then, “It’s quite possible that I’ve eaten too many s’mores.”

  I scoff and shake my head. It’s not like I was hoping she was going to say she felt more for me, that maybe we could try a real relationship out for size.

  Nope, it’s not like I was hoping for that at all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kira

  “Like this,” Nate says to Brett as he loads his roller with paint and puts it on the wall. “Got it?”

  “Got it,” Brett says, and mimics the position. Nate turns to Liam, who is working with a brush and going around the edges.

  “That looks great, Liam. Gram would be so proud of you two.”

  They both beam up at him, and as I stand back and watch, I stifle a yawn. This week had been a roller coaster of emotions. From sadness at Gram’s gravesite to having a blast camping. Who knew? The best part of the week—Nate slipping into my tent, holding me and keeping me warm as I slept.

  As I watch him now, working with the two boys, a smile on his face, my heart pumps a little harder in my chest. For a man not interested in relationships, he sure has a way with kids. The way the boys look up to him is a true testament to his kindness and strength of character. They wouldn’t let me help, even though it’s my responsibility, not theirs, but Nate insisted the boys do it, under his supervision, so they were held accountable for their actions. Now right there, is some good parenting.

  Jason comes barreling in through the back door, followed by Sam. “It’s fucking cold enough to freeze your balls off,” Sam says, as he pulls off his mitts. He shoves his hand between his legs. “One, two, whew. Both accounted for.”

  The man really has a thing for his…parts.

  I grin despite myself and put my finger to my lips. “No swearing. Brett and Liam from next door are here painting.”

  “Shit, sorry,” Sam says, and Jason punches him in the shoulder.

  “Dumb ass,” he says. Sam gives him a blank look then his eyes widened.

  “Oh shit, I get it, I can’t say shit.”

  “Then stop saying it.” Jason laughs, and I laugh along with him.

  “Have you guys eaten?” I ask. “I made a pot of soup.”

  “Sounds good,” Sam says and shrugs out of his winter coat. Cold radiates from his body. He rushes to me and puts his arms around me. “Warm me,” he says, and I rub my hands up and down his arms.

  “I put that load of laundry on that you left in the basket,” I tell him.

  He grins. “Thanks, sis.”

  “You owe me. I had to put a clothespin on my nose just to get near your clothes.”

  “That’s what we call man stick. The good kind.”

  “There is no good man stick,” I say as I continue to warm him. “Better?”

  “No.”

  “Then go stand by the fire, I just added a log. Get warm, and I’ll heat up the soup for you both.”

  I turn him and nudge him toward the fire, but find Nate staring at me. It gives me pause because if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was jealous. Which is ridiculous, right?

  Jason darts upstairs, and the bathroom door closes with a bang, snapping Nate from his trance. Jeez, I thought I was the only one who spaced out. Nate reloads his roller and goes back to painting.

  “Don’t trip on anything,” I say to Sam. He walks around the pile of furniture and paintings in the middle of the floor. The art won’t be going back on the walls. I’ll be distributing it to a few of the galleries in town.

  “Where’s Izzy and Cody?” I ask.

  “At the Anchor,” Sam responds. “It’s Friday night. Jason and I are headed there in a few. You guys coming?”

  “No, we need to get this painting done,” I say, but the truth is, I’m looking forward to having the place alone tonight.

  “If you change your mind.”

  I head to the kitchen, take the pot of soup from the fridge, and put it on the burner. I turn on the gas and reach for the baguette to slice off a few pieces for the guys. Jason comes back downstairs and looks over my shoulder.

  “Smells delicious.”

  “It’s minestrone.”

  “You made it?”

  “Yes, I made it, and I didn’t burn down the house. It’s Gram’s recipe. I found it in one of her books.” I point the wooden stick at him. “Now, grab the bowls and sit.”

  “You’ve been hanging out with boss man too much,” he says as he reaches into the cupboard. “His bossiness is rubbing off on you.” He puts the bowls on the counter and sits at the kitchen table.

  Nate and I have been spending a lot of time together, and I guess sooner or later it was going to be noticeable, but I’m pretty sure no one has any idea what’s going on with us behind closed doors. Then again, Khloe picked up on it right away. Nate wanted to keep that between us, and I don’t blame him. No need to upset the dynamics here. I scoop out the soup and serve it when Sam saunters into the room.

  “Hey Kira, would you be able to help out at the auction next week? Maybe you could MC it.”

  “I…” I’ve given presentations at the university, although I’m not that great in front of a large crowd, but honestly, how can I say no when they’re trying so hard. “What would I have to do?”

  “Talk about our good traits, really sell us, you know.”

  “What good traits do you have?” Jason asks and dips his bread into
his soup.

  “Don’t be jealous because the ladies like me better than you, Frankenstein,” he says, and points to the scar on Jason’s forehead.

  Jason rubs his hand over the scar. “The ladies love this. No one wants a pretty boy like you, Sam. They want a real man, with real scars. Isn’t that right, Kira?”

  My gaze goes back and forth between the two. They’re both nice looking men, charming in their own ways and very endearing.

  “There’s something to be said for a pretty boy face and a scar. Both are appealing,” I say, and that answer seems to satisfy them. “Now back to my MC duties—”

  “You’ll do it?” Sam’s big blue eyes widen with hope.

  I lower myself to the seat next to him. “All I have to do is say nice things?”

  “Yup,” Jason says.

  “Maybe each guy could write something on a cue card, and I can read it. I only really know you guys and wouldn’t know what to say about the men I’ve not met.”

  “Good idea,” Sam says.

  “What’s a good idea?” Nate asks from the living room arch.

  “Kira is going to MC the auction next Saturday. Nate angles his head, his gaze moving over my face like he finds that hard to believe.

  “Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not?” I say, and once again think about how I’ve been out of my comfort zone more these last couple of weeks than I have been in my whole life, but it’s been good for me.

  “Oops,” one of the boys says from the other room.

  Nate cringes. “I better check on that.”

  He disappears, and as the two guys start talking shop, I excuse myself and head in to see what happened. I cross my arms and lean against the archway where the wall is still warm from Nate’s body. I can’t help but smile as Nate puts some kind of liquid on a cloth and uses it to wipe away the paint Liam accidentally dripped on the floor. Once done, he readjusts the drop cloth and ruffles the kid’s hair.

  “No harm done,” he says, and Liam smiles up at him. He clearly adores Nate. How could he not? Nate sort of has that effect on everyone, and I’m sure the women are going to go wild to bid on him. What if they’re not all eighty? My gut tightens, but it shouldn’t bother me to see Nate on a date with a younger woman, especially when it’s to help save Gram’s place. I tuck that jealousy away, push it to the darkest corner of my mind. It’s not wise to have feelings for this man, and both my head and heart know it.

  I push off the wall. “Are you sure I can’t help?” I ask and yawn.

  Nate eyes me. “I’m sure you have work that needs your attention.”

  “I do, but I feel bad—”

  “Don’t feel bad, Miss Palmer. We shouldn’t have egged the house, and we want to make it up to you.”

  I glance at Nate, who’s looking at the boys with pride. Honest to God, that man needs sons of his own. Sam and Jason finish their meal and grab their coats.

  “Thanks, Kira. See you guys later,” they say and head out the kitchen door.

  As three sets of eyes stare at me, I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll go work. If you need me, you know where to find me.” I head into my office, and within seconds, nothing exists but my work. I spend the next few hours going over computations and only look up when Nate pokes his head in.

  “How’s it going?” he asks.

  “It’s going.” I squeeze my eyes shut, sure I haven’t blinked in the last couple of hours.

  “Bridgette is here, so I’m going to take her, and the boys, home. They did a good job.”

  I stand and stretch out my arms. “I want to thank them and say good night.” I follow Nate into the kitchen, and the boys are tugging on their winter gear.

  “Great job tonight, guys,” I say. “I really appreciate the help.”

  “Nate said if the snow is thick enough tomorrow, we can go tobogganing with you guys,” Brett announces, his changing voice a little high pitched as he bubbles with excitement.

  I angle my head and take in Nate’s sheepish look. “What’s this about tobogganing?” I ask. This is the first I’ve heard of it happening tomorrow, and Nate knows it.

  “The crew all wanted to take you, remember?”

  “I had plans tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize,” he says, a line deepening in his forehead as he frowns.

  “But if we go early, I can still keep my plans.”

  Nate smiles. “Perfect.” He opens his mouth again like he wants to ask what my plans are, but even if he does ask, I’m not about to tell him. He won’t take money for my coat, but what I have planned is even better than that.

  “I can’t believe you never played in the snow before,” Liam says, and tugs on his toque.

  “It’s true. I admit it.”

  Brett’s eyes go wide. “Granddad says we’re getting a good ten inches.”

  “Oh, wow,” I say, and the boys open the door and head out.

  Nate leans into me, his mouth near my ear, his words for me only. “If you play your cards right tonight, you’ll be getting a good eight inches.”

  He’s grinning when he steps out the door, and despite the cold breeze rushing in, heat races through me. “Oh my God, Nate,” I manage to get out.

  He pushes the door open, and the hinges squeal from the cold. “I’ll put the back door on my list of things to fix.”

  “What did you just say?” I ask, my mind buzzing from working all night.

  His brow furrows. “I said I’ll put the back door—”

  “That’s it,” I say. “That’s it, Nate.” I go up on my toes to kiss him. “You’re brilliant.”

  “You’re just now figuring that out,” he says teasingly. He glances over his shoulder. “How about we pick up here when I come back?”

  “Meet me in my room.” I open the junk door, grab the cards, and dash to my office to make a note. A back door is exactly what I need for my computations. I jot down a bunch of notes and hurry to my bedroom.

  Ten minutes later, Nate is standing in my doorway, and all the breath leaves my lungs when I take in the heat in his eyes.

  “Why, again, am I brilliant?”

  I pat my bed, and he sits on it. “A back door is what I need to design for my theorem.” I spend a few minutes explaining it. Even though he has no idea what I’m talking about, I love how he tries and listens intently. Not wanting to waste more time on work, and needing this man naked, I pull out a deck of cards.

  “Strip poker?” I ask.

  “I thought you said you weren’t interested in my clothes.”

  “That was then, this is now, and right now I’m interested in removing them from your body.”

  “It was the eight and some inches comment, wasn’t it?” he says playfully, and I laugh.

  “For every piece of clothing you lose, I will pay you ten dollars.”

  “Huh? I don’t get it. If I’m losing clothes, that means you’re winning. Shouldn’t I be paying you?”

  “Nate, come on. I know you bought the coat for me, and I just want to pay you back.”

  “I’m not interested in your money. It’s your body I’m after.”

  He kisses my neck, his warm breath sending shivers through me, making it hard to remember my goal.

  “I’m interested in this,” he says, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive hollow of my neck. “And I’m interested in this, too,” he murmurs, his voice deeper, as his fingers go to the buttons on my blouse. He opens it quickly, and it wisps over my skin as it slides from my body. A moan catches, and a new intensity comes over him as he admires my black lace bra. He tugs the cups down. “I’m definitely interested in these.” He takes one bud into his mouth and sucks until I feel the pull in my core.

  “Nate…” I begin but can no longer remember what it was I had planned for the night. Whatever it w
as, it can wait, because this, what this man is doing to me with his mouth and tongue, cannot and should not be interrupted.

  A little nudge on my shoulder has me falling back onto my pillow. Deft fingers open my jeans. He peels them down my legs, leaving my black panties in place. I can’t seem to take my eyes off his face as his gaze rakes over me, a slow, leisurely caress that made me feel self-conscious the first time he did it, but now makes me feel adored.

  “Something else catch your interest?” I tease.

  He growls. “Oh yeah.” He tugs my panties to the side and exposes my damp, needy sex. He rubs his finger along my slit, widening me, then with a feather-light touch, brushes his thumb over my cleft.

  My hips come off the bed. “So good,” I murmur.

  “So wet,” he says, and the gleam in his eye tells how much that pleases him. He pushes a finger into me, and my body quakes, but it’s not enough. I want him inside me.

  “About those inches,” I murmur.

  “Such a greedy girl.”

  “You make me this way.”

  “I like that Kira. I like…” His words fall off, and his mouth finds mine. I have no idea what he was going to say, but I’m not about to break this deep intimate kiss to find out. Our tongues tangle, and I tug at his clothes. He slides off me, undresses in record time, and steps up to me. I take his length in my hand, admire it as I rub it a few times, and his head rolls back. I love how I can make him feel.

  “Fuck yeah,” he murmurs. I tug a few more times, and he backs up, grabs a condom from his pocket, and sheaths himself. I watch, mesmerized as he rolls on the latex and climbs over me. Taking me by surprise, he rolls so I’m on top of him. He taps my legs. “Lift,” he murmurs. The raw need in his voice skyrockets my need for him.

  “Bossy-pants,” I grumble, enjoying the easy intimacy between us. We haven’t been together long, yet I fear any more time in his presence just might kill me. But I’m too weak to do anything about it as the openness between us, the warmth and safety in his touch, strips my heart bare, and sends sparks of possession surging through me.

  He’s not yours, Kira.