“I already ate,” Nathan replies, but it’s not his usual cadence, and I wonder what's wrong. He was fine yesterday when we were texting.
I hop off my stool.
“I’ll be two minutes,” I say to Wayne, grabbing Nathan's hand and tugging him into my bedroom, noting how Nathan follows almost a little reluctantly.
As soon as I close my bedroom door and turn to face him, he has my hands pinned above my head, my back pressed against the door. I barely catch my breath.
“Wh—”
Nathan's mouth is on mine before I can speak, demanding access. My lips part instantly, his tongue seeking out mine. It’s heady, intense to the point I can barely breathe.
He’s consuming my very essence.
Every stroke and flick of his tongue is desperate, igniting heat to my very core.
When he draws back, his breathing is laboured as he rests his forehead against mine.
“Who’s Wayne?” he asks.
I try to focus after that soul-rendering kiss.
“Huh?”
He pulls back his chin, nodding beyond the bedroom door.
“He’s one of the cast,” I say, tugging my arms for him to release my wrists. “He’s here about renting the spare room.”
Nathan's eyes flick over my head and then back to my face, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly.
“Wait, are you jealous?” I ask, my hands moving to his chest, his heart beating heavily under my palm.
“No, yes, I don’t know. Fuck.” He takes a step back and scrubs his hand over his face.
I’m still trying to process his reaction.
“Are you serious right now?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down.
He drops his hands to his sides, and his head bows forward.
“I just, I was surprised to see another man sitting there,” he says, his gaze meeting mine.
I shake my head. “Oh right, and so straight away, your first thought was what?”
Stepping closer, I look up at him. “That I was up to something?”
He’s frowning now, his eyebrows drawing together in a harsh V.
“No, I never said that, Vi.”
I let out a humourless laugh. “What was that kiss, a way of claiming me? You might as well piss up my leg for better effect.”
I turn around, fucked if I’m having this conversation with him, whatever it is.
But Nathan catches my wrist before I even make it two steps and spins me back to face him, a rush of air escaping my lips.
“Vi, I’m sorry. It's me, not you,” he says, his eyes imploring me to try to understand.
Sighing, I bring my hand up, my fingers stroke his cheek.
