Page 154 of Boyfriend of the Hour

Nathan’s eyes were deep. Mournful.

“You don’t want that,” he said. “No one would want that.”

Heart thumping, I clasped his face, forcing him to look at me. Forcing my hands not to shake while I asked, “Why is that?”

His chin quivered. “Because with you…” He swallowed thickly. “With you, I think themallthe time.”

“You—you think what?” I stumbled. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

But he only pulled me closer so he could frame my face with his hands just as I was doing. Making sure I was listening. Making sure I heard him.

“I don’t care what you do for work,” he said. “And I don’t care if you can’t clean up a kitchen. I don’t care if you were good atschool, or dance, or anything else you tried. I just want you to be exactly as you are. I like you—honestly, I’m kind of obsessed with you, Joni, just the way you are.”

I sucked in a breath but found I was shaking so hard I could barely exhale.

“You—you are?”

Nathan’s eyes glimmered with promise. “I am. And I’m not pretending anymore either.”

Then he kissed me. Without an audience. Without a single soul to convince.

And this time, he didn’t stop.

THIRTY

TYPES OF KISSES

#16 the i need you right freaking now kiss

Was it true?

Was I really here, in his arms, accepted for exactly who and what I was, while Nathan Hunt kissed me in the middle of a dance studio?Myplace?

My mind couldn’t quite believe it, but my heart was more than willing as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

The kiss was just as intense as our first, as any other we had shared. His mouth was soft and tender, lips firm but patient. He tasted like home.

That was Nathan.

MyNathan, I thought as I pulled lightly at his curls. A growl emerged from the back of his throat, and suddenly, I was flipped around and shoved against the mirror.

Maybe not so patient.

Right now, I was okay with that.

His mouth trailed down my throat, teeth nipping and biting all the way to the low neckline of my leotard.

“Is this all right?” he asked again and again when his hands traveled over the rest of me. Molding to my breasts, my waist, my ass, my thighs, taking full, lush handfuls, squeezing, kneading, memorizing my shape. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” was all I could manage. “Yes, yes, yes.”

And then it wasn’t. Because I needed more. Needed the barriers of cotton and Lycra and anything else separating us stripped away. I needed his hands on my skin and his mouth everywhere. I needed to touch that hardened length of him currently pressed into my hip. Fuck, I needed to do way more than that.

It wasn’t enough, this room, open to whoever might walk in. It was hot, sure, and as a performer, I’d always had more than a little exhibitionist streak.

But I needed Nathan unfettered. I needed him raw.

He lifted me then, and my legs found their way around his waist, locking us hip to hip as he ground into me with a pained groan.