My hands flattened on his chest, and I pushed him away with so much force he landed on his back. Leaning up on my elbow, I looked down at him. “Have you?”

“Bailey, I’m a twenty-two-year-old guy. Of course I’ve had sex.”

“How much?”

“How much what?”

“Huh?”

“Times or people?”

My eyes widened.

“Actually, no, don’t clarify because I can’t answer either.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because I don’t know.”

“Because you’ve lost count?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least you’re honest,” I said, climbing to straddle his lap.

He linked his hands behind his head and smiled up at me. “That’s it? No third degree?”

I shrugged. “Are you having sex with anyone now?”

He looked at our joined parts. “Not that I’m aware of,” he joked.

Slapping his chest, I said, “Not right now. I mean…” I averted my gaze, trying to hide my true insecurity. “I mean, when you’re out… working. Are you—”

“No, Bailey,” he cut in. “I haven’t been with anyone since you moved in. I swear. Do you honestly think I would?”

“I don’t know what you do during the day, I only have you at night.”

He laughed. “You have me at night?”

I nodded as I leaned down to kiss him. “Yup. I own you,” I joked, but he didn’t seem to get it, he just placed his hands on my waist and kissed me back.

“I’m yours,” he murmured, his tongue swiping mine as he covered my mouth with his. I pressed into him, feeling his hardness rub against me. A warm sensation flooded the pit of my stomach, then spread through the rest of me while goose bumps broke out, and his fingers tightened. He pushed up with his hips. “Fuck, babe,” he moaned, pulling away.

I sat up, causing me to press harder against him. “What?”

He didn’t answer. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, peered down to where we were connected. He looked back up at me and bit down on his lip. Then he moved his hand from my waist to my stomach, lower and lower. He didn’t touch me, though. No—it was worse. A moan escaped me as I watched his hand slowly creep into his gym shorts. He adjusted himself, the outline of his dick prominent. I’d never been more turned on in my life. In fact, until Nate, I’d never been turned on at all. I fingered his waistband, moving from side to side. I wanted to touch him, to feel what he’d just felt. His hands were gentle as they grasped my wrists. “Bailey?”

My eyes snapped to his.

I moved on him, rubbing his entire length between my legs. My body took over my mind and my physical needs, my wants, consumed me.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a slight smirk on his face.

I let out a frustrated moan and climbed off him, then lay on my back next to him and stared up at the ceiling. I covered my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to hide my embarrassment.

The warmth of Nate’s chuckle hit my forehead while he removed my hand. He was sitting up, his smile broad and unrestrained. “What’s wrong?”

I shoved him away from me.

He laughed and moved back to his side, facing me.

I did the same. He still had the same goofy grin plastered on his face, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “What?” he asked, moving closer.

I changed the subject. “Is Nate short for something?”

“Nathaniel,” he told me, his voice low. “But nobody’s called me that since my mom died.”

“Does it mean something?”

“It means given of God.”

“It’s perfect,” I whispered.

Moments of silence passed before he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to him. Resting his chin on the top of my head, he said, “Sometimes you get this look on your face. It’s like you’re completely lost, and you don’t know how to act or who to be. But then you have this fearlessness to you, this bravery, and I don’t understand how you’ve survived what you have, but I’m so damn grateful you did.”

I pulled back and looked up at him. His eyes were distant, lost in a sea of thoughts. I reached up and ran my thumb across his bottom lip the way I’d seen him do so many times, and he looked down, attempting to smile. “You’re kind of beautiful, Nate.”

He rolled his eyes and moved away from my touch.

“I’m serious.” I kissed his chin quickly. “And I love it when you smile. You should do it more often.”

“I didn’t really have a reason to smile until you came along. You make me forget what my life is and who I’m supposed to be. You make me happy, Bailey.”

 

 

23

 

Nate

Days passed, and we fell into a routine. I’d work every day just like any other. And then I’d go home, forget my real life, and Bailey and I would play house as if our situation was totally normal.

I hated the days, but the nights made up for it.

Yeah, I was pissed someone tried to break in. But getting angry and jumping to conclusions wouldn’t solve shit. Tiny and I had to be smart, act as if we had no idea that it had happened, because if Bailey wasn’t there, we probably wouldn’t even know. Tiny and I put up a front but behind the scenes, we were working overtime getting the security tightened and trying to figure out who did it, and most importantly, why.

Take into account that PJ was still running his mouth, the missing person’s report was still active, and somebody had actually seen her in my house… yeah, it was snowballing, and we couldn’t do shit to slow it down. The only thing we could do was keep her hidden and keep her safe.

I kept my personal life out of conversations with Tiny. He’d told me his thoughts and he’d made me question mine. And as much as I knew he was just looking out for me, he’d been wrong about all of it. It had placed a wall between us. We talked business and only business. Or at least, that’s what I thought until he turned to me from his seat while driving me home. “You really like her, huh?”

I kept my eyes on my phone. “Who?”

“The Queen of England, asshole. You know who.”

I shoved my phone in my pocket. “Why? You feel like judging me some more?”

“I was just doing my job.”

“That’s not your job, Tiny.”

“But you calling me at three in the morning to come pick you up from some random girl’s house is my job?”

I stayed quiet.

“You’re my best friend, Nate. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. I can protect you physically, but I can’t do shit about your heart.” He cleared his throat and added, “So I was thinking I could work on the basement a bit.” He eyed me sideways. “I know it’s tough—for Bailey, I mean.”

He didn’t mean Bailey. He meant me.

“Do you think it would help her?” he asked.

“Why do you want to help her?”

He shrugged as he pulled up to my gate. “Because helping her means helping you,” he said simply.

*

So, for the next couple of weeks, we made a home for Bailey in a place that was once my living hell. In the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong; to give her this sense of hope when the future was so uncertain. But there was a spark in her eyes, one I hadn’t seen before, so I chose to ignore everything else.