Page 107 of Everything She Wanted

“What did you tell her?”

I take a seat on the stool in front of me, suddenly feeling the crushing weight of everything.

“She thinks you’re harassing me,” I say as I bring my hands to the sides of my face to ease the tension in my throbbing temples.

He leans back against the counter as his face turns grim. “Shit.”

“I know. I just told her we kissed on a drunken night out while we were at a conference because you didn’t know I was seeing someone.” It’s mostly true. Now the hard part. “Then I told her you came out yesterday to confess your feelings, even though we both know nothing can happen between us.”

He steps a little closer to me, but the island is still between us.

He looks like something is eating at him. “Nisha, I have to ask you something.”

“What is it?” I feel a prickle of apprehension as I drop my hands on the smooth granite counter.

“Am I harassing you? I mean, you’ve never stopped me, and I guess I thought you were attracted to me too, but after everything in Seattle, and now with Jess—”

“Nick, no.” I get off the stool and wander over to him.

“It’s a messed-up situation, but no. I’ve never felt like that. Ever.”

He sighs in relief, takes my hand, and kisses my fingers gently. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Me too.” His touch, his words, relieve some of the overwhelming pressure I’ve been struggling under all day.

He lets go of my hand but holds my gaze. “It’s just that every time I’m near you, I can’t help myself. I want to touch you everywhere you’ll let me, and when we’re not together all I’m thinking about is being around you again and it’s fucking insane.”

He backs away. “I know you’re not mine...” He rubs his hand over his face. “Even when I was on that date, I couldn’t even focus or care because she wasn’t you.” He looks at me with tired and sad eyes.

My breath catches in my throat at his confession, and my heart starts beating rapidly with hope. Maybe there is something more between us and it’s not just me being delusional.

“I don’t want to mess up everything you have going for you, and now with this shit at work and the other day when Tom almost walked in. Fuck.” He drags his hand through his hair and then puts his hands on the counter behind him, as if he’s stopping himself from coming closer or touching me.

Little does he know I’m willing to walk into the inferno with him and set my whole life on fire.

I close the distance between us and take his head in my hands, his arms still resting on the counter on either side of him. Air barely fills my lungs, and then in a moment, my lips are crushing his, my hands are in his hair, and he’s wrapping his arms around me and lifting me onto the counter behind us. His hands rapidly push my skirt up to my waist so I can straddle him easier. I feel his hardness, and I can’t even deny how much I want him anymore. I put my hands under his shirt and lift it easily over his shoulders as he starts working the buttons on my top, kissing me down my neck. His hands are frantic, clumsy, like he’s barely maintaining control. He fumbles with the buttons for a while before my shirt is open, and he’s tugging it free from the waistband of my skirt and launching it behind me. He brings his hands to my underwear, swiftly pulling it down so I feel both the coolness of the granite under me and his hot fingers pushing their way inside of me. Each thrust causes me to almost come undone, and I lose focus as I try to undo the top button of his jeans and start to unzip his pants.

His bare chest is close, but it’s not enough. I push his hands away and perch on the end of the counter, guiding him closer to me. He grabs my hands.

“We should stop,” he gasps, barely audible. He’s breathless, and so am I.

“Why?” I pull my hands free and caress the length of him as I see him struggle to hold it together.

“I have nothing to offer you, and you deserve way more than a quick fuck.”

He backs away and bends down to grab his shirt, and then zips up his pants, leaving me on the counter mostly undressed.

“I don’t care if this is all this is.” I would take breadcrumbs from him if that’s all he’s willing to give me.

He shakes his head and picks me up from the counter like I weigh nothing at all. He pulls my skirt back into place and then walks behind me to pick my shirt off the ground with trembling hands.

“This isn’t who you are, and I know it’s not what you want.” He looks like he’s fighting a battle inside himself that I know nothing about, and I start to think I’m wrong about him. So very wrong.

“You deserve everything good and right and beautiful in this world.” Something cracks inside of me as he looks away and then back at me with his soul in his eyes. “And I...I don’t deserve even an inch of you.”

His eyes are so full of misery that I know he isn’t lying, but it would be so much easier to walk away from him if he was.

37. Sweet Surrender