stop to this, end it now and get my focus back on the tasks at hand. His fingers go to my face, and he brushes the backs of his knuckles over my cheek. That touch goes straight to the needy juncture between my legs and dances around and shouts loud enough to make itself known.
I shiver, determined to break free, but that inner voice stops me. Why shouldn’t I go for it? This man has no idea who I really am, or what I do for a living. He’s obviously not into my brain, which is a refreshing break. Just yesterday I said I’d love for a man to want me for my body only. Isn’t that what’s going on here? He’s not looking for anything but a hot roll between the sheets.
Go for it, Kira. Hook up with the hot lobster fisherman while you’re in town.
He’s seasonal, will be shipping out soon, and I likely won’t be around much longer than that.
Thick fingers grip my hips, drag me closer. His head dips and my lips automatically part. As we stand toe-to-toe, his slow inhale fills me with a rush of things to come, but a niggling hint of unease trickles in behind it. I have no doubt this guy is a masterful lover and knows exactly what to do and say. What if I screw it up, turn it into that same fumbling mess as I did in university? We have to share this house. How would I ever face him come morning?
“Nate,” I whisper, and once again before I engage my brain, I say, “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
“I’d prefer it if there wasn’t any biting or chewing,” he teases in a soft voice, his eyes a raging firestorm of want and desire as they roam over my face. “At least on your part.”
The words, “I’m not that experienced,” leap from my mouth. I don’t bother telling him that “not that experienced” means I’ve only been intimate with one guy who knew as much about sex as I did.
The muscles in his jaw tense, and his entire body stiffens. His hand falls from my face as I mentally kick myself for opening my stupid mouth.
“Maybe this isn’t a great idea,” he murmurs. A quick pause and then, “I don’t want—”
The back door bangs open. Nate jerks away as someone comes rushing in, a new set of footsteps on the kitchen floor. We both turn as Jason, wearing one of Gram’s toques, comes crashing in like a damn bull.
“Someone egged the house,” he says, breaking the intimacy and what might have been had I not opened my mouth.
In the end, though, maybe it was for the best. I’ve never had a hookup in my life, and I definitely shouldn’t start with a guy like Nate.
I don’t think.
Chapter Eight
Nate
“What the hell?” Nate says, as Jason’s attention bobs from me to Kira and back to me again. He’s probably trying to decide if he walked in on something.
He waves a finger back and forth between us. “Wait, were you two—”
“I was showing Kira how to make spaghetti sauce. She doesn’t cook much,” I say, downplaying what actually transpired right here in the kitchen in front of a hot stove, as I step farther away from her. “Are you sure it was eggs?” I ask, a ploy to switch gears in his brain.
He blinks, and nods. “Yeah, man. There are shells all over the ground.”
Kira touches my arm to get my attention, and I jump like I’d been tasered. Her head rears back at my overreaction, but her touch… Fuck, man, her touch goes straight to my dick, and makes coherent thought near impossible. She pulls her hands away fast, and I get it, I’m a total douche bag. I started this, now I’m trying to hide the fact that I nearly took her to my bed, and that hurt look on her face is like a punch to the gut. Yeah, she deserves way better than that.
“I…that must be the noise I heard earlier,” she says.