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I breathed out slowly, trying to relax. This was just his way of getting me to take it easy, like we’d been told. I settled in, determined to let the movie distract me.
It was thirty minutes into the movie when the heroine managed an awkward first kiss with the guy she’d been crushing on since the beginning. When the hero returned the kiss, though, his hands moved all over her body, caressing her breasts, cupping her butt.
My cheeks radiated and suddenly I was fully aware of Nathan behind me again. I’d felt him before, but now it took a lot of will power to focus on the movie again. The screen kiss made me think of Kota getting so close and not kissing me, and then of Nathan behind me, and wondering how he felt about me.
I stirred, stretching my legs, and ended up tracing my toes along the top of his foot. I withdrew my feet a little to give him space.
Nathan leaned in on me. His nose found my ear and he nuzzled it. “Peanut,” he whispered.
“Honey?” I said in a small voice. The pit of my stomach trembled. I stiffened, unsure how to respond.
The hand around my side squeezed tenderly, pulling my back into his hard chest and stomach. He tucked closer into me. “I’m never able to finish a movie with you around,” he said. “You wiggle.”
“Sorry.”
His lips traced my ear. “You’re not sorry. What’s going to happen when I take you to the movies sometime?”
“I can sit away from you if you want,” I said, trying to be funny.
The hand at my side clutched tighter. His other arm drew around until he was hugging me around my shoulders. I sucked in a breath, getting a lung full of his Cypress.
His lips glided along the side of my ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”
The way he held me, I was trapped. I wriggled my arms under his embrace. “Nathan,” I breathed out.
“I want you here with me,” he said, pulling me tighter to him. His lips met my lobe, and his warm breath fell against my skin.
A desire to twist around and face him swept over me, but I couldn’t muster the courage. I stared hard at the screen, not seeing anything. It was flashes of color to me now. I was lost and wasn’t even sure if I wanted to return to the movie at all, but too terrified to do anything else.
Nathan picked himself up, shoving the pillow away until it tumbled across the floor. He turned me until I was on my back. He propped himself up on his elbow on his side so he could look down at me. His other hand settled onto my stomach, his fingers splayed out across my abdomen.
This was worse! Now I had nothing to look at but the ceiling or directly at him. I had no idea what to do now. I folded my arms just under my breasts, unsure of what to do with them. Heat blasted over my cheeks and I knew they must have been pink.
His blue eyes bore into me, sweeping across my face. Studying. Keeping eye contact was difficult because it made the shaking sensation in my stomach increase until I didn’t know how to contain it. The only relief I got was when I looked elsewhere, his cheeks, his ears, his hair.
I’d felt the guys looking at me this way before. Instinct told me they wanted to kiss me. I’d been wrong. North had once told me to trust them, to let them worry about things like this. I believed him. I wanted to let them figure out what they wanted to do with me and not just assume. If Nathan wanted, he would. I’d wait and let them figure it out. I had no idea about kissing and relationships.
Nathan’s eyes locked on mine once more, swept down to my cheeks and settled on my lips.
I stilled, and couldn’t help but lower my gaze until I was staring at his mouth.
His fingers twitched across my stomach, swiping my side in a gentle motion. It forced a smile out of me.
“What?” he asked, his own grin catching in the corner of his mouth.
“Nothing,” I said, fighting to not ruin what’d been an intense moment.
“Hm?” He lowered his head closer. “Something funny?” His fingers curled across my side.
My lips split and I ducked my head toward his chest. I started giggling. I swatted at his hand and then gripped it to get him to stop.
“Ha. See,” he said. “You shouldn’t ever let anyone know where you’re ticklish. You’re done for now.” He wrestled his hand away from my grasp and started sliding his fingertips across my side.
“You knew I was!” I squirmed against him, trying to turn over so I could push his arm away easier. In a way, it was a relief. The nervous rattle in my stomach was easing away.
Nathan tucked his other arm around me tighter, holding on to me around the hips. “Nu-uh, stay here, Peanut,” he said.
His fingers continued to tickle. I couldn’t stop squirming. I tried smacking at his arm, but he was unrelenting. He had more power over me and could use it when he wanted.
I poked at his stomach, trying to tickle back.
“That doesn’t work with me, sweetie,” he said through a chuckle.
Was this like when Gabriel told me pouting didn’t work? I curled my fingers, trying to run them against his side.
He tucked his arm tight up against his ribs. “Nope,” Nathan said, but his lips twisted into a rigid grin.
Thought so. I was getting the hang of the guys. I curled my fingers more, weaving around his arm and trying to rub at his side. Since his shirt was a little tighter, it was a bit easier to tickle and not just grip a bunch of cloth.
Nathan harrumphed and caught both of my wrists in one hand, drawing them together. He used his free hand against my side, tickling.
I managed to wriggle a wrist free. He tried to reclaim it, but I darted. I caught on the hem of his shirt in an effort to tickle quickly and escape capture. My fingers brushed against his bare skin.
Nathan’s lips nearly exploded as he jerked his body back against the couch, laughing. “Shit, Sang. Your hands are too soft.” He caught up both of my wrists, pinning them against each other easily in one hand. When they were secured and over my head, he wriggled his fingers toward my stomach.
“No,” I squealed, laughing. I wriggled, trying to squirm away from him.
He hooked a couple of fingers to the hem of my shirt, tugging it up to expose my stomach. My eyes widened and I panicked. Tickling my sides was one thing, the last time Silas touched my stomach, any spot below my belly button, something happened to me, and it wasn’t ticklish. I could either squirm into the tickling, or risk his touch on something I wasn’t sure I was ready to explore yet.
“Say mercy,” he said, his lips twisted into a wicked smile.
I couldn’t give in to that. Stupid pride. “No,” I squealed again, giggling in a fit and trying to wrench my wrists free.
“How’d I know you wouldn’t?” His fingertips traced gently over the top of my stomach, close to my ribs. “I’m going to find your best spot now.”
I bent my body away, trying to shove myself against him to cover my stomach. “Please?” I squealed louder. “Honey...”
He moved his hand out toward my side, sliding it further around my back, until he simply held me by the waist, pushing me into his body. “Give up, Peanut?”
I pursed my lips, not wanting to give an answer.
He lowered his face, his eyes catching mine before he slid his gaze down, locking onto my mouth. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something.
“What the hell is this shit?” a voice boomed through the room, startling me so bad I sunk into Nathan, as if trying to disappear between him and the couch.
Nathan shot up, releasing me and nearly knocking me to the floor. “Dad! You didn’t tell me you were coming home.” He gathered himself so he could stand up.
I sat up, scooting out of the way and positioning myself behind Nathan. My cheeks were on fire at having been caught in such an awkward position by Nathan’s father.
My knees locked together, rooting me and I wrapped my arms around my body. His father? He’d told me before his dad was mean. I peeked over Nathan’s shoulder, afraid to face Mr. Griffin head on.
He was a wiry man, wi
th thinning dark brown hair. His dark eyes were rimmed with redness and there were blood vessels broken around his nose. There was some resemblance in the face between him and his son. Nathan was taller and bigger, though. “What the fuck? Are you turning this place into a whorehouse?” He pointed at me, his eyes flaring. “Who’s this?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nathan said. He shifted, placing himself as a shield between me and his father. “She’s going home.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I want to know who my son has pinned to the couch,” he boomed. Mr. Griffin shoved a finger in my direction. “Who the hell are you?”
“Sang,” Nathan said to me, his hands going up in a stopping motion toward his father. “Go home.”
