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Nathan twisted slightly in his seat and lay one arm across the back. “Before we get to that, I want to thank you. For asking Natalie to introduce me to Allbright and Thames.”
Caught up in her burgeoning lust, Helen paused a moment so she could reply calmly. “You’re welcome. It was the least I could do. I take it your chat went well?”
“Very well. I am even more confident I’ll close the sale now, and that puts the promotion very much in my reach.”
“Good for you.” She licked her lips, knowing she should be more effusive but not able to garner the necessary excitement. If Nathan was leaving for new adventures, she wanted her own adventures to start soon. Preferably now.
“It looks like I’m going to get what I want.” He cocked his head and peered at her. “What about you? What do you want, Helen?”
I want you. She didn’t think that was what he was talking about, though. “I might have cancer, remember?” The words were bitter on her tongue, but it didn’t do to let him forget what might be in her future. “That makes it hard to make long-term plans. For now I’m happy taking it one day at a time.” That attitude is what had led them to this point, after all. If she could get him to think the same, the next few weeks could be a celebration, not a wake.
He wasn’t to be deterred. “Forget cancer for now. If that weren’t an issue...what would you want?”
She sighed. If she wanted to get him into bed anytime soon, she’d have to give in. “Sven has offered me Golden Dragon.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. “He has? Why?”
She explained the situation, and the longer she talked the brighter his expression grew. “That’s awesome,” he said when she finished. “You’re going to do it, right?”
“I want to. But how can I commit to such a huge undertaking as things stand? I know you said forget cancer, but that would be irresponsible.” And impossible.
“You’re a smart woman. I’m sure you can figure something out, even if you get bad news.” He took her hand in both of his and massaged her knuckles. “Now, let’s get back to the main issue. What comes next for us.”
“That is the reason I am here.” She held back a purr as his fingers worked her joints. It was almost as good as a foot rub. “As I see it, we agree on the two most important points—we want to stay friends, and we want to have sex again. With each other.”
He snorted a laugh. “Thanks for the clarification. But yes.”
“Can we also agree that, just because we are having sex, there are no expectations that this is anything more than friends with benefits? And that either of us can end it at any time without explanations or excuses?” She had to make it clear she wouldn’t hold it against him if he stepped back if she did have cancer, but couldn’t bear to put it directly into words.
He paused briefly in his ministrations before resuming with gentle force. “Agreed.” Without releasing his grip on her hand, he leaned on the table, bringing their faces close together. The blue of his irises was almost transparent, the lashes surrounding them a golden brown. “Want to come to my bed now, Helen?”
Her heart fluttered making her breathless. “I do, Nathan. I really do.”
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NATHAN KNEW HELEN’S invitation had been initiated by impulse.
His had been a deliberate declaration of desire.
He still wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do. But it felt like the natural thing to do. Helen was woven into the fabric of his life, and unravelling her would be painful, probably impossible.
He wanted to put off doing that as long as he could.
Her fingers trembled in his clasp as he led her into the house and up the stairs. She would know this was different than their first time together. By her own admission, she’d intended sex with him to be a one-time event.
Admitting she still wanted him moved them to an entirely different level.
Unlike Helen, Nathan had made no changes to the master bedroom he and Wanda had shared. Mostly because he no longer used it. Even before she’d become ill, he’d been sleeping in the spare room more often than not. When she died, he had no urge to move back into the room they’d shared in happier times. He halted at the foot of his bed and drew Helen toward him. She looked up, eyes wide and wondering. Her cap of greying hair hugged her skull and he combed his fingers gently through the strands.
“Have I ever told you how much I like this look on you?” He cupped one hand around the nape of her neck, the soft, whiskery strands tickling his palm. “You have the most elegant skull.”
Helen’s laugh was soft and breathy. “That’s the first time I’ve ever been told that.”
“It’s true.” He laid his other hand flat on her breastbone, the vee between his thumb and forefinger framing the hollow at the base of her throat. Her heart thumped under his palm, the rhythm speeding up when he licked the corner of her mouth.
Her hands gripped his hips and she arched her back, pressing her core against his growing erection. The thin, slippery fabric of her long dress slithered around his bare calves and his arms slid around her waist, sweeping her in tight.
While he held her, it was easy to let everything else go. He lost himself in her taste and scent, her warmth and softness. He trailed his fingers up the bumps of her spine and she shuddered, pressing even closer. Her arms wound around his neck, embracing his head, her mouth open and her tongue demanding. Helen did nothing by halves, and to have her full attention made his knees weak.
He lowered himself to the bed. Helen remained standing, bending forward to keep their mouths melded together. In this position, the neckline of her dress gaped and he caught a glimpse of her breasts, unbound by a bra. His hands moved without thought, cupping the soft heaviness, and Helen’s breath gasped into his mouth.
Remembering her responses from their first time together, he traced her nipples with his thumbs and they immediately rose into points. Helen moaned and let her weight press into his hold, her forearms resting on his shoulders, her hips undulating.
He leaned back and she followed, dragging her skirt out of the way, and crawling onto the mattress so that she ended up kneeling over his supine form. She didn’t take her lips from his, her kisses growing short and frantic, mirroring her panting breath. He tweaked her nipples and her body froze for an instant, then resumed its urgent movements. He pinched one and then the other, alternating the pressure from light to hard.
Gripping his wrists, keeping them in place, she sat upright, her weight settling on his groin. “Yes. Harder. More.”
He followed her commands, watching through slitted lids as the flush on her cheeks seeped down her neck to her chest. His hips lifted in rhythm to his manipulation of her breasts and she rubbed herself against his cock, trapped inside his shorts.
Her thighs tightened and she dropped forward, her hands clamping on his shoulders. Her fingers pinched as she threw her head back. A rush of damp heat soaked his groin. At the evidence of her orgasm he almost came himself. Her hands slid down his ribs to his abdomen as she continued rocking. More heat, more wetness, and he couldn’t hold back. Didn’t want to hold back.
Sparkling explosions raced down his spine, gathered in his balls, up his cock. Jackknifing upright, he clutched Helen as his own orgasm burst, before dragging her down with him as he collapsed back against the mattress.
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HELEN TUCKED HER HEAD into the curve of Nathan’s shoulder and tried to get her breath back. The sex had been even more amazing the second time around, and they hadn’t even taken all their clothes off. He read her so well—knew instinctively how to wring out her deepest response. She could still feel his touch on her breasts, the way he’d played her into a frenzy until she could do nothing but fly off into oblivion.
What would sex be like without breasts? Hers had always been so sensitive, so responsive. Despite the buzzing glow still shimmering in every cell of her body, she suddenly felt bereft, grief-stricken, and cursed her unpredictable emotions, so close to the surface these days. Her shoulders shuddered as she tried to control the welling tears. She was certain the last thing Nathan wanted to deal with after earthshaking sex was a bawling woman.
“Helen?” He shifted so they were nose to nose. She kept her eyes closed, ashamed to be making such a fuss. “Are you crying? Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. Of course not. I’m just being silly.” Her words stuttered out on jagged breaths, shattering her attempt at rational speech.
“Tell me you’re not regretting what we did already.”
“No!” She opened her eyes and saw worry and concern in his. “Not at all. It was beautiful.” Her throat burned and swelled.
“As long as you’re sure.” He searched her face.
“I’m sure. I promise.” She put as much confidence as she could into her tone, hampered by her swelling emotions. “Today’s been a bit of a rollercoaster.”
“Come here.” Nathan rolled to his side and gathered her in. She draped one leg over his hip and snuggled in tight. His tenderness fractured the dam holding back her tears and she let them flow.
With her cheek on his chest, she felt rather than heard the words Nathan murmured. It really didn’t matter what he was saying. His embrace was comfort and sanity and grace, and as her tears soaked his shirt she slowly relaxed, the swell of terror easing. As her breathing evened out and her sobs softened, Nathan’s hold loosened, but he didn’t release her until she raised herself on one elbow.
Swiping her wrist inelegantly under her streaming nose, she risked a glance at his face. He regarded her steadily, concern wrinkling his brow, simple acceptance in his eyes. “Sorry about that.”
“You can cry on my shoulder anytime.” He cupped her cheek and swept the pad of his thumb under her eye. “Want to talk about it?”
Uncertain, she dropped her gaze, and noted the large damp patch on his shirt. And the even larger one on the crotch of his shorts. Heat bloomed in a rushing remembrance of her abandon as she’d straddled his straining cock. “Maybe we should clean up.” It gave her the perfect excuse to ignore his question.
Humour lightened the frown creasing his forehead. “How about I run a bath? Would you share it with me?”
They hadn’t fully undressed to have sex. Now he was proposing they get naked in a tub. It sounded perfect. “I would. Thank you.”
A few minutes later she leaned back against his chest, playing idly with the bubbles foaming around them. The large tub filled the corner of the master bedroom’s en suite, with a window set high enough in the wall to provide privacy but allow the golden evening light to stream in.
Nathan’s arms stretched along the edges of the tub, the skin darkening from his biceps to his hands in a soft-edged farmer’s tan. His breath tickled the back of her neck. “So. Any particular reason for your tears? Is there something I should know?”
While she’d hoped he wouldn’t return to the subject, she was grateful he’d avoided adding else to his question, given the revelations she made after their first time together. For an instant she considered prevaricating, but their truce was fragile and any lie, even by omission, could splinter it beyond repair. “I was thinking about sex without my breasts. Did you and Wanda—” She broke off, horrified by what she’d almost asked. “I’m sorry. That was much too personal.”
He shifted, water sloshing, lifting his knees and cradling her between them. After a long pause, he said cautiously, “I know you and Wanda were good friends. Did she talk to you much about our marriage?”
“No.” Helen felt a twinge of guilt, though it wasn’t a lie. Wanda hadn’t confided in Helen, but she would have had to be blind not to have seen the signs that all was not well between her friends.
“Our marriage was already in deep trouble before Wanda was diagnosed.” Nathan’s voice held complicated regret, and Helen took one of his hands and held it against her belly under the bubbles in a silent show of comfort. “I had decided to ask for a divorce, but then she told me about the cancer. I still loved her in a passive way, because of what we’d shared in the past, not because of what I could see in the future, and I couldn’t abandon her. We tried to put things back together, but it was for all the wrong reasons. Sex hadn’t been great before her mastectomy, and after, though we were intimate a few times, it wasn’t a success. But I am sure it was a symptom of our relationship, not the surgery.”
Helen let that sink in as she listened to the bubbles popping and fizzing. A strong relationship could weather a lot, she knew that. Despite their long history, though, her connection with Nathan felt thin and fragile.
Was it possible it could survive the next few weeks without imploding?