On Second Thought
Page 79
“Towels are everywhere,” I said, indicating the row of a dozen symmetrically rolled white towels. “Take your time. Enjoy.”
“I will. Thanks. Hey, got a clean T-shirt I can borrow?” he said, pulling off the one he was wearing.
Good God. Muscles everywhere, and skin, glorious skin.
“Sure. I’ll be right back. Keep your pants on, mister. No flashing me.”
He winked, and I found myself smiling as I went down the hall to my room. I had a giant Yankees T-shirt my father had brought me that I slept in sometimes. I wasn’t about to give him something of Nathan’s. That... No.
I grabbed the shirt and came back to the bathroom. Daniel was now barefoot, fiddling with the controls in the shower. His work boots and socks were by the door, his mighty torso rippling like Thor’s. I said a brief prayer of thanksgiving to FDNY, their training program and gyms. I was a widow—I wasn’t dead. He had an eight-pack, and just above the waistband of his jeans were those wonderful V-lines. A happy trail.
“How do you turn the light on?” he asked, and I jumped and cleared my throat. Hot in here.
“Oh. Um...I’m not sure. Wave your hands. Some of the switches are motion sensors.”
The bathroom was big enough that the shower required its own lights. It was gloomy-dark in there. Daniel waved an arm, the motion causing his shoulder to bunch and flex hypnotically. Nothing happened (light-wise, though my ovaries were sighing happily). I tried a few light switches—under the sink, next to the sink, in the toilet room, the tub’s underwater lights.
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.
“I will. Thanks. Hey, got a clean T-shirt I can borrow?” he said, pulling off the one he was wearing.
Good God. Muscles everywhere, and skin, glorious skin.
“Sure. I’ll be right back. Keep your pants on, mister. No flashing me.”
He winked, and I found myself smiling as I went down the hall to my room. I had a giant Yankees T-shirt my father had brought me that I slept in sometimes. I wasn’t about to give him something of Nathan’s. That... No.
I grabbed the shirt and came back to the bathroom. Daniel was now barefoot, fiddling with the controls in the shower. His work boots and socks were by the door, his mighty torso rippling like Thor’s. I said a brief prayer of thanksgiving to FDNY, their training program and gyms. I was a widow—I wasn’t dead. He had an eight-pack, and just above the waistband of his jeans were those wonderful V-lines. A happy trail.
“How do you turn the light on?” he asked, and I jumped and cleared my throat. Hot in here.
“Oh. Um...I’m not sure. Wave your hands. Some of the switches are motion sensors.”
The bathroom was big enough that the shower required its own lights. It was gloomy-dark in there. Daniel waved an arm, the motion causing his shoulder to bunch and flex hypnotically. Nothing happened (light-wise, though my ovaries were sighing happily). I tried a few light switches—under the sink, next to the sink, in the toilet room, the tub’s underwater lights.
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.
