She’d felt his presence before looking up from the precious memento. Lifting her gaze to where he stood, she wondered how long he’d been standing there watching her. Mony’s eyes slid over his statuesque pose, noticing his entire posture was wrought with tension. His expression was filled with restrained longing and he was impossibly gorgeous. He came to her and gazed at the object she was holding.
“Buddy loved those little hands,” Nate said as he ran his fingers over the fingers imprinted in clay. “I caught him more than once doing what you’re doing right now before he’d packed it away.” Taking the cherished gift, Nate laid it reverently in the storage box. “Come,” he said, coaxing Mony to her feet. “You’ve had a long day.”
Hands joined, they walked up the stairs in silence. Nate led Mony to the bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat while he ran water into the old claw foot tub. He poured a packet of fragrant bath salts into the water and dampened a washcloth to wipe her face. With each tender stroke, he brought calm to her troubled heart, his attentiveness conveying comfort. It brought to mind all the more, the sadness and pain she could bring to him.
Mony stilled his hands. “Nate, I don’t want to be alone. I’m afraid. I don’t know how–” She leaned forward, straining toward him. He lowered his lips to meet her, and kissed her sweetly. She felt a low sound deep in her chest as his mouth and tongue pleasured her senses in a sensual tease, driving away her fears, until all she was cognizant of was how much she wanted him.