47. Rosalyn

FORTY-SEVEN

ROSALYN

The sounds of the bar feel like a barrier between us and reality. Like the noise will make it impossible for people to see us.

Like no one will notice us making out like our lives depend on it.

His hand is warm on my neck.

His lips are demanding on mine.

His other hand slides down to grip my side.

I lean in.

And I remember the pantry.

The way I melted into him there too.

The way I let him touch me.

The way I combusted around his fingers.

How he made me shatter without even knowing who I was.

This time, it's me who breaks the kiss.

Nathan's grip loosens as I step back.

"You said something about a drink?" I ask, hearing the breathiness in my voice.

He nods once. "Whatever you'd like."

My gaze drops to his mouth. Then lower.

Nathan clears his throat .

Caught, and not caring, I don't rush my gaze back to his. "Something strong."

"So… not champagne?" His expression is neutral, but I hear the teasing in his tone.

I shake my head. "Not champagne."

Nathan dips his chin and pulls out one of the chairs at the table we're standing beside. "You stay here. I'll find us something good." He starts to step back, then pauses. "Did you drive here?"

I press my lips together, then shake my head.

My eyes are drawn to his throat as he swallows.

"Good." He dips his head toward the tall chair, then he disappears into the crowd.

Good.

I force myself to take a slow breath.

Making out the second we were close enough to touch was not what I expected, but it's oddly worked to break the tension that's plagued me all day. Of course, the stress tension was just replaced with sexual tension, but that can be worked through.

Setting my purse on the table, I take this alone time to climb onto the chair. It's always awkward getting onto these, so I appreciate the fact that Nathan isn't here to watch me shimmy back and forth on the seat, adjusting my clothing.

Situated, I find the back of Nathan's head and watch as he waits for his order.

The hood up makes him stand out in the sea of T-shirts and less, but I get that he does it to hide his identity.

Because he's famous.

It's still hard to believe that the lanky kid from the woods grew up to be a well-known professional football player.

My heart swells.

For all that happened.

For all the ways our lives went in different directions.

I'm happy for him.

I'm happy he got to be happy.

He deserves it.