The Blush Factor (The Hawthornes of New York 2) - Page 48

I cup a hand over her cheek. “Don’t get all emotional on me.”

“Miss None of Your Business is making you feel things in here.” She taps my chest. “Good things, I think.”

“The very best things,” I tell her.

“Maybe by the time I get back from my trip, you’ll be ready to tell me her name.”

I kiss her forehead. “Maybe I will.”

“I didn’t say anything to Rome or Callum about her.” She presses a finger to her lips. “It’s not my place to tell them that our hero is falling in love for the first time.”

A sudden lump in my throat halts the next words that are about to leave me. I hold them inside, hoping that one day I can say them aloud.

My sister is right. I am falling in love for the first time. I want it to be the only time.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Faith

Nerves envelop me as I ready for my night with Matthew.

I took a shower, put on a new bra and panties, and then ran through my closet again, trying on everything.

I settled on a pair of jeans and a white sweater.

It’s comfortable, and one of the few things I’ve purchased since I moved to New York. It’s so new that the tags were still dangling from it when I yanked it down from the hanger.

I shut my apartment door with a soft click before I turn to insert the key to lock it up tightly.

This apartment was my first destination when my plane landed a little more than a year ago. Tonight will be the first time I haven’t stayed here.

I hear Matthew’s door open before I’ve spun myself around.

I do that and find him barefooted, wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out a hand to me.

I don’t reply. I just grab hold of him, hoping that his touch will level everything I’m feeling inside.

He pulls me closer. “You’re shaking, Faith.”

“I’m nervous,” I confess softly.

He nods. “I understand.”

I’m grateful that he doesn’t brush away my words by saying that everything will be fine or there’s nothing to be nervous about.

There is, and although the anxiety I’m feeling is being tamped down by excitement, it’s still there lurking beneath the surface.

“Come with me.” He tugs on my hand. “I know you told me you ate dinner, but I made snacks for you.”

I did tell him that via text an hour ago.

I ate my cheat meal and then devoured Gwynne’s since she didn’t touch anything on her plate at the diner.

Before I could finish everything, she was out the door with her phone to her ear.

I could only hear a small portion of her side of the conversation, but I knew it was Rich. She was offering him words of encouragement even though she couldn’t do the same for herself.

I take a step forward toward a night I know I’ll never forget, and when the door to Matthew’s apartment shuts behind me, I sigh.

My life will never be the same again.

An hour later, I’ve had my fill of berries and some kind of delicious cake that was tinted a soft shade of lavender.

Matthew fed that to me in between bites of his own from a fork we shared.

We talked about biology and the places in Manhattan that I’ve come to love, and then his entire face lit up as he spoke about Georgie and Dora.

My mom once told my sisters and me that a man who loves his family is a man worth an Upton girl’s heart.

Matthew adores his family.

He is worth my heart.

Matthew pushes up from where he’s been sitting next to me on the couch. “Come to bed with me, Faith.”

This is it. This is the moment that I’ve anticipated forever.

I reach up to him, wanting to feel his skin next to mine.

He takes my hand, drawing it to his mouth as he helps me to my feet. He kisses my palm. It feels like a thousand soft kisses, but it can’t be more than a dozen.

“We do this at your pace.” He stares into my eyes. “You tell me if it’s too much or if you need more time.”

“I don’t need more time,” I tell him. “I want this.”

Every word written in my diary about the glorious man in front of me can’t do this moment justice.

I tread behind him as he guides me down the hallway to his bedroom.

I look around once we’ve stepped inside.

It’s a large space with a bed the same size as mine. His bedding is darker, though. The sheets are printed with a pattern of mixed blues and grays. There is a door on the far wall that I assume leads to a bathroom.

The photographs on the walls are all black and white and look to be the tops of buildings.

It’s a masculine space.

“Can I undress you?” he asks quietly. “Or would you rather do that?”

Tags: Deborah Bladon The Hawthornes of New York Romance
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