11. Rosalyn

ELEVEN

ROSALYN

I clear my throat. "I just need to dry these, then refill the washer."

Nathan takes a step closer. "Do you have to wait for that… load to be done?"

He paused, like he didn't want to say the word load . And now my mind is stuck on the dirtiest connotations of that word.

Blinking the thought away, I use my towel to grab a hot plate out of the dishwasher. "I usually stay to empty the final… round." I can't bring myself to say load. "I try to make it so I don't leave any cleanup work for the clients."

Nathan makes a humming sound, then does the same thing, grabbing a plate with his towel and drying it.

The muted music and chatter from the backyard are our soundtrack as we work in silence.

I reach for a bowl on the top rack, and Nathan's fingers bump against mine as he reaches for the same one.

I jerk my hands back and lift my eyes.

Nathan is looking right at me. "Oops."

His expression is serious and his voice is low. I don't think us touching was an accident .

The heat in his eyes is more than I've ever experienced, but I can't make myself look away.

The energy between us is causing my blood to simmer beneath my skin.

It's official. My body doesn't care at all about our history.

It doesn't care that there can be no future between me and Nathan.

It only cares that he's close.

And he's interested.

Maybe I really am his type. Or maybe a part of him recognizes our previous bond. That natural chemistry we always had.

Chemistry that's changed from something friendly into something much more adult.

Nathan keeps eye contact as he lifts the bowl and runs his towel around the outside.

He's drying a freaking bowl, and it's making my panties wet.

I'm blaming the champagne.

I drag my eyes away from his and grab another dish.

More silence stretches between us as I hand Nathan dirty plates from the sink and he places them in the newly emptied dishwasher.

Each time our hands touch, a jolt of electricity zings up my arm.

And I keep getting warmer.

The last plate slides into place, and I hand Nathan the dishwasher soap.

While he starts the appliance, I dry my hands, then toss the towel onto the counter.

When I turn back around, my chest bumps into his.

I automatically reach out to steady myself. But the only thing within reach is Nathan, so I grab his shirt, bunching the material at his sides.

He moves closer until our bodies are nearly flush.

"I normally don't do this, Beautiful." He ghosts his hands over my arms. "I usually prefer to take it slow. But tell me you feel it too?"

He doesn't specify.

He doesn't need to.

Because I can feel it. I can feel the tension crackling in the air between us.

But I lie. "Feel what?"

The side of his mouth pulls up.

He doesn't believe me.