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He glances down to the flowers I’ve let fall limp at my side.
“Damn. Who are you trying to impress?”
I want to toss the bouquet away like it’s on fire. What? Oh, this? I found it in the trash.
He walks toward me and laughs. “For Natalie, right?”
How does he know? is the question I ask myself before I realize it doesn’t exactly take Sherlock Holmes to solve this case. Who else would the flowers be for?
He takes them from my hand and smells them, messing with me.
“You must have really pissed her off this time. What’d you do?”
I’ve always thought of myself as a confident, self-assured person, but then again, I’ve never had to look a man in the eye after sleeping with and accidentally impregnating his sister. Turns out, it’s harder to do than I thought it would be.
“What’s with the silence?” He laughs, claps my back, and pushes me toward the kitchen. “You and Natalie are both acting weird.”
“She’s here?” I ask, my chest constricting.
“Yeah. Got home before you.” He nods toward the sink and sure enough, Natalie’s there in a small group of people, holding a glass of water in her hands, her unfocused gaze on the floor. She’s changed into a simple loose black dress that cuts high on her thighs. Her hair is down and framing her face, half-concealing her distant expression.
My entrance into the kitchen draws her attention, and when she glances over, meeting my eyes, it’s like a tight fist has me by the neck.
Natalie.
“Natalie, look what Connor brought you,” Noah announces to the room, holding up the flowers.
She sees them in Noah’s hands and her cheeks turn into flames.
I want to smack the bouquet out of Noah’s grasp and hurt him for embarrassing her, but then it’s only Natalie and me who are feeling this so intimately. Our guilt flourishes in front of the live audience, but to them, this is nothing. They probably think I brought flowers for Natalie because of some bullheaded thing I said. They don’t realize what I was working up to before walking into the townhouse. They don’t realize that just yesterday, Natalie and I sat in an exam room and listened to our baby’s heartbeat.
This is all so screwed up.
I want to pull Noah aside and tell him the truth now, be done with the lies and the bullshit, but he’s determined to tug me into the party and hand me a drink even after I ask if we can go outside for a bit.
“Later,” he promises. Then the doorbell rings and more people pour into the room.
How is this possible?
How is it that Natalie and I are in the same room and still separated by a thousand miles?
I get tugged into conversation, and I participate just enough to not offend anyone while also keeping most of my attention on Natalie. She eventually breaks off from the pack of people in the kitchen and heads down the hall toward the stairs. I make my excuses to the group I’m with and immediately go after her.
Up in the hall on the second floor, I catch her just before she closes herself into the bathroom.
My hand reaches out for hers, yanking her back, and she jumps before realizing it’s me.
I turn her and there are words that should come first, but a kiss wins out. I haul her against me and lean down, pressing my lips to hers. It’s like we’ve reached the end of the line, like this might be it for us. We’re wild for each other. Her hand curves around my neck, pushing into my hair, and I moan, backing her up into a wall. Our bodies are a perfect fit. I can feel every one of her smooth curves under this dress. It’d be so easy to strip her down. I’m thinking of that when my kiss turns hungrier. I’m desperate, as is she. Apparently the last twenty-four hours weren’t so easy for her either.
“Connor,” she whispers against my mouth as she breaks off the kiss.
I pinch my eyes closed and shake my head.
“Not yet. Please. Let’s just pretend for another—”
Her mouth catches mine and she kisses me with such sweetness that I’m helpless to stop myself. My hands are everywhere, on her hips, curving around her ass, tugging her against me. I want her now. Immediately. It feels as imperative as my next breath. So I don’t think. I push her back into the bathroom, kick the door closed, lock it, and pull that black dress up and over her head. We end up fumbling everywhere. Half on the sink, half supported by me, Natalie is unreal. Her mouth kisses down my neck before she yanks off my shirt.
Someone pounds on the door asking to use the bathroom and Natalie shouts that she’s not feeling well. They groan and leave and we continue without missing a beat.
