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Oh.Oh my. Pleasure surged inside, focused from Nigel’s touch and blooming. It raced to my core and over every inch of my body. Moans and screams built in my chest as orgasm flooded me, but his mouth crushed to mine kept me from shouting into the night—God’s name, Nigel’s name…
The incredible sensation filled me until it was too much, and my body wobbled from the onslaught.
Nigel eased his touch away, but his body pinned me to his truck, holding me upright. He pressed his lips to the hollow behind my ear. “Now you can check off 56.” The heat of his breath teased my skin with his whisper.
He pulled away enough to meet my gaze, and held it while he sucked my juices from his fingers.
Was there anything hotter in the existence of anything? Possibly, but I couldn’t think of what, and I’d never felt more desirable than I did right at this moment.
My face was hot and my mind was blank. “Stay?” That was the only thing I could think of.
“I want to. So badly.” Nigel rested his forehead against mine.
My heart sank. “But you won’t.”
“No. Because we have to take some parts of this slowly, or we’re going to rush past some of the important things.”
I got it, I really did, but that didn’t stop the ache inside from wanting it to be otherwise. “Okay.”
This time his kiss was softer. Sweeter. His lips brushed mine, and then my forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll figure out what happens next.”
I nodded and let him drive away. As I walked inside, the rest of the world was background noise. Did that just happen?
It did. Nigel and I…
It wasn’t really sex, but it was one hell of an orgasm.
When I got inside, Carly had already retired to her room, which was good. As much as I loved my sister, I couldn’t explain this. I wasn’t even sure I understood it myself.
For the second night in a row, I slept with Nigel’s leather jacket next to me. I should probably give it back, but it was here so there was no reason for me to not enjoy it.
I woke up before seven, nervous anticipation buzzing through me. I didn’t feel like this forty-eight hours ago—the day I was supposed to get married. That morning had been filled with nausea.Butterflies, I’d called them. How was I so blind?
There was a text message from Nigel that came in hours ago. Should I be excited or worried? Especially since it just saidcall me when you wake up.
I dialed immediately.
“Hey,” he answered, his voice tired.
No reason to panic or jump to conclusions. “I saw your message. Are you all right?”
“Hang on, I’ll come find you when I’m done.” His voice was muffled, as if he’d covered the mouthpiece.
I knew before he said, he was at the office.
“The game crashed in the middle of the night so I’ve been in the office since about three.”
In the morning? On a Sunday? “That sucks. Boo.”
“I wanted your time today. I’m sorry.”
I was bummed, but I wasn’t mad. This wasn’t Easton, who came up with last minute excuses to keep me from spending time with my friends. This was Nigel, who I trusted implicitly. “It’s okay. This stuff happens.”
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” And he would. He always did. “And remember, I meant everything I said last night, including that you should explore. That you should make sure you don’t have regrets in your life for things you haven’t done. And that when you’re finished with that, you belong to me.”
I liked hearing him say that. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
