Page 8 of Trials of a One Night Stand
“Not me. I swear.” He releases a wicked laugh as if he’s genuinely shocked to hear men play that pathetic card, and I can’t help but believe him.
Whether he’s telling the truth is another matter entirely, but not something I intend to figure out tonight. “There’s obviously a story since she has a new guy in her life.”
“She does, and believe it or not, I’m happy for her. He’s good for her.”
“So what’s the problem?” I try not to glance at his hand, which is still on mine. If I look, he might move it, and that’s the last thing I want him to do. Our physical connection is palpable. That hasn’t happened to me before, and I want to see where this goes.
Nathaniel shrugs. “I was in love with what we had in the past. How good we used to be. Which meant I thought I was still in love with her.”
I shift closer, liking how his leg touches mine. I don’t get the same rush as skin-on-skin contact, but his warmth ignites a fire inside me. “And now you don’t think you were?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I wasn’t. Although she’s still my best friend and I love her platonically.”
He raises his chin slightly. The move is not only full of confidence but also power. I’m almost sorry we didn’t talk about work because I’d love to know what he does for a living. Emphasis on almost. “You sound certain.”
“I am. I met someone after she started seeing her new guy and that proved I was over my ex-wife.”
I lean back. “Oh, yeah, you also mentioned the girlfriend.”
“Good hearing,” Nathaniel teases, and I move closer again. “She moved to London, so that’s over too. She wasn’t the one for me, but she helped my battered heart heal, so I’m calling it a win.”
When he places his free hand over his heart and smiles at me, I want to melt into a puddle of horny goo on the floor. He’s beautiful, and the way his shirt pulls across his biceps is sexier than that stripper. All I want to do is lick Nathaniel all over. Well, a naked Nathaniel.
“So you weren’t in love with her either?” I ask, curious about the two women who were fortunate to have someone like him in their life but let him go. Was it the wrong time or a problem with him? The lines at the corners of his eyes suggest he’s in his late thirties or early forties. One divorce doesn’t mean he’s got problems, but I wonder why such an attractive guy is still single. I mean, thinking he’s still hung up on his ex-wife would be a solid reason, but still… I have to wonder.
“I enjoyed being with her, but I wouldn’t say I was in love with her.” He takes a drink and lowers his glass to the bar. “If she was the one, I wouldn’t have let her leave without a fight. At least according to the bartender, I wouldn’t have.”
Ah, the all-knowing bartender who analyzes customers by their drink orders. “I suppose that makes sense. Not everyone is meant to have a one.”
He flinches slightly. “What would I have then?”
“Maybe you're a threesome kind of guy,” I say playfully.
He bursts out laughing, loud enough so people stare at us. “I don’t share, Jayne. Whatever the circumstances.”
I feign relief, mopping my brow. “Thank goodness because I’m not sure I’d want to share you either.”
His eyes twinkle again, and heat flares inside me. This man. I don’t know why he has such an effect on me.
“It sounds like you want something to happen between us,” he says in a smooth, quiet tone.
“Isn’t that what this banter is leading to?”
Damn. Who am I, flirting with a stranger? It certainly isn’t the me I’m used to. I’m normally shy and studious. Always put together and straitlaced. The most different thing about me is the y in my first name since I’m more like a Jane than a Jayne. Yet here I am, rubbing my knee up against the leg of a hot guy and enticing him with the mention of a threesome but not wanting to share.
What is going on?
This. Is. Not. Me.
Is the alcohol talking or my still healing broken heart?
“Maybe.” Nathaniel turns toward me and his fingers whisper patterns on my bare shoulder. “I mean, I’d like to, but I don’t want you to think that’s all I want.”
It’s exactly what I hoped would happen, but we’ve been talking for the sum of…I look at the clock behind the bar…thirty-five minutes. Even as horny as I am, I can’t jump into bed with a stranger that quickly. At least I’ve never done so in the past.
“No, you’re right.” Heat creeps up my neck. “We should talk more. I mean, how am I supposed to know if you’re the one if we don’t get to know each other a little?”
Nathaniel’s head falls back, and he releases another loud peal of laughter. The infectious sound causes a giggle to erupt from inside me. Every time I think we’ll stop, we catch each other’s eye and continue to chuckle.
