My face is bright red, hot. “Yeah, right.”
“You sound like Aretha Franklin. You. The little white girl with a bus.” He watches me for a moment, those blue eyes searching my face for something I can’t fathom.
I joke, “You like my bus.”
“That I do," Nate says, grinning as he steps closer. "I like a lot of things about you.”
“Yeah, I’ve got mad skills.” I joke, but he takes me seriously.
“You do, and you underestimate what you’re capable of accomplishing. Kerry,” he glances at my painting, “You’re the most talented person I know.”
His words floor me, especially after the way he left things last time. I stand there with my heart wide open, terrified. No one ever sees the real me. They see a young girl trying to be older than she is, or a student too immature to handle things. I’m someone who’s always trying but hasn’t arrived. When people consider me, I’m always found lacking. For a long time, I’ve hoped to fit in somewhere. Why do I have to fit so well with him? Nate feels like home. He’s everything I want, but I can’t have him. There’s no happy ending for us.
I force a smile and shove the thought away. Nate isn't mine and never will be. We’re two people passing in the night on different paths, going different directions.
I joke, “Good thing your dad wasn’t a preacher, huh?” I wink at him and turn away. “Because we’d be in serious trouble then.” I’m about to go back to my painting when I feel his presence behind me.
His warm breath is by my ear, and his body is so close to mine I can feel his body heat. “I’m starting to think you like trouble, Kerry.”
“As much as the next girl, yeah, sure.”
“Nothing about you is like the next girl.” His voice is firm, powerful. It’s a statement, a complement he fully believes.
“You think too much of me.”
“You don’t think highly enough of yourself.”
“I know what I am, who I am.” I turn slowly toward him with my heart slamming rapidly into my ribs. I hate it when he’s this close. It’s hard not to touch him, to pretend there’s nothing between us. “Not many people see me.”
“Only because you don’t let them. Your guard is always up, and, while it keeps you from getting your lights knocked out, it also keeps everyone else at arm's length. No one really knows you.”
“Except you?”
“I’m not sure how well I know you, either. Sometimes I think I see all of you, but there’s always more, something else to make me smile. Still waters run deep—I had no idea what that meant until I met you. There’s always another layer, more to discover about you.” His eyes loc
k on mine, and his body is so close I can catch his scent.
A shiver licks my spine, and I want to laugh nervously, or dance, or cry out. Since I can’t do any of those things, I step away. The distance between us does little to alleviate the tension. The air is charged with electricity when Nate’s nearby. It’s the way he stands, the way his beautiful body calls to me as if he were mine. He’ll never be mine. Even if the student teacher thing didn’t matter, when he finds out what I did to get his house back and how I plan to make him sell it—he won’t forgive me.
I have three days to keep this man safe. The only plan I came up with so far ensures Nate’s safety, but I get the crappy end of the stick when all is said and done. I need a different plan, one that doesn’t end so poorly, but nothing else comes to mind.
Nate watches me, his lips close enough to kiss my skin. I think about his mouth and those hands. Butterflies flutter inside of me, reminding me of how wonderful he feels and how perfectly we fit together. Every time we’ve been together, it’s been hard and fast, frantic even. There haven’t been any slow kisses unwinding from deep within to make my toes curl. There’s been no lazy tracing of curves, no exploration of his body under my palms. I want that. I want the feeling like we have all the time in the world, but we don’t. I tear my gaze away from his and step back again, forcing a smile on my face. It feels wrong.
“There’s nothing more, Nate. You’re wrong about that.”
“Am I?” He follows me, stepping closer every time I back away until I’m against the wall at the back of the room. The counter is to my left, and the line of cabinets is to the right, blocking our view of the door. He presses his body to mine.
“Yes, you’re wrong. There’s nothing more to see. Move along.”
His lips are next to my ear when he speaks, “There’s always more to you—more to see, more to taste and touch, more laughter and more smiles.” His finger touches the tip of my nose lightly, and my heart beats faster in response.
“There’s nothing else.”
“There is.” He lifts his hand to my cheek, stroking it gently along my skin and making me shiver. “You have more talent in one finger than most people have in their entire body. You tap into it, try it on, and you don’t let fear keep you from it.”
I honk out a laugh. “Me? Not afraid? Guess again.”
His face is above mine, looking down, watching me as his body presses me to the wall. The weight of him is perfect, and, if I can avoid his eyes, I won’t give in. I won’t think about his lips on mine. I won’t remember the way he kisses me, using his entire body, like I’m air, and he’ll never have enough of me. “That’s what makes you incredible. You might feel fear, but it doesn’t stop you. You keep going. You keep trying. It’s breathtaking to watch. It’s impossible to be around you and not get caught up in you—every woman in the room wants to be you, every man desires you. They all marvel at your talent. They're all shocked by the innate way they appear to be one with you.”