We returned to our work, Nathan peering over at me from time to time to make sure I was all right, and I knew he could see I wasn’t. I felt out of sorts for the remainder of the day; my mind kept wandering back to those awful times in that house. I couldn’t even eat lunch, still bombarded with the memories.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. It was long, but without drama or encore performances from the Boob-Squad. Which was good. I still couldn’t shake the memories and they were dragging me down.

It was several hours later when we returned to my condo. He could sense my sullen mood and wordlessly helped me out of my suit while he stripped out of his own. He made us a simple dinner, because he couldn’t cook much, but it was appreciated all the same. I sat on the couch flipping through channels. Once we were done and the dishes were washed, he pulled me into the bedroom and laid me on the bed.

That night, he paid great attention to me, worshipping my body. And like that morning in the shower, he used his touch to bring me back to myself, back to him. It was softer, but still intense, passion flowing from him into me. His presence overpowered everything else. With each thrust, he was pulling on the rope that tied us together, pulling me back to him. His arms were wrapped around my body, holding me to him. When he pushed me over the edge, I felt my heart spring open.

I was home.

We were one in that moment, together again, bound to each other in a way neither of us understood, but were beginning to accept.

I was in love with him. I loved Nathan Thorne.

Everything solidified, and I knew the truth behind those words. I finally found my home, the place where I belonged.

CHAPTER 22

Nathan was always stiff and sore in the mornings; some symptoms showed more than others. That day fell into the latter category. He literally rolled out of bed, and the limp in his leg was very pronounced.

A few hours later, I watched as Nathan popped more pills into his mouth, his hands moving to his temples, rubbing them in a counter-clock-wise motion.

By two in the afternoon, he was on the third set of pain pills to numb the aches and migraine that plagued him. He had woken with a headache and it had increased as the day wore on. The medicine didn’t seem to help, and he skipped lunch, opting to lie down in a dark empty office.

He stood and continued to limp, heading to the break room. It was so bad, that he was unable to walk it off.

Throughout the day, I observed him as he wiggled in his chair and readjusted himself in an attempt to find a comfortable position. He’d give up, sighing in defeat, and settled for whatever position he found to be the most tolerable.

It was easy to forget about his physical pain most of the time because he never showed the signs, but it was always there, lurking beneath the scars.

His hand swiped across the ribs on his left side in an unconscious attempt to soothe a sudden discomfort that flamed beneath.

There had been five broken ribs on his left side.

He helped me count them one day while exploring his body. He never shied away from my touch, but stared at me with a curious expression as I traced my hand around the long line of raised skin. Odd shaped scars left as evidence of his ribs cracking and breaking through the skin. I could feel them then, the places where bone had grown to mend the ribs back together.

I then took hold of his hand and guided it to the ribs on my left side. My hand pressed his fingers into my skin as I counted off where the four ribs my stepbrother had broken when I was younger were.

After work, we went straight up to his condo. He didn’t speak as he guided me into the bedroom, or as we stripped out of our suits. Not even when he pulled back the comforter and crawled in, his eyes beckoning me forth.

His arms wrapped around me, his head on my chest. My fingers ran through his hair, brushing the strands away from his face. He sighed and snuggled his head in further before his body relaxed.

I hoped the next day would be better because it hurt to see him in so much pain and discomfort when I knew there was nothing I could do to help.

We had a luncheon scheduled a few weeks later that consisted of Andrew, Benjamin, two clients, Nathan and I. It was to discuss the takeover of a smaller company and all the legality that would go into it.

We met at a nice restaurant downtown, and they sat us back in a private room. I was thankful to not be sitting between Andrew and Nathan, who were unhappy enough to be in the same room together, but hid from the client. Instead, Nathan had maneuvered it so I was sitting next to him in the large round table, with Benjamin on the other side. It seemed he liked Benjamin and his devotion to his wife, Marianne. Was it because it made him a non-threat in Nathan’s possessive eyes?

Our salads arrived, but before I could even pick up my fork, I felt a hot hand on my thigh. It took everything in me to stop from jumping. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but everyone seemed to be too engrossed with the plate of veggies in front of them. I relaxed and felt the tingling sensation of Nathan’s hand on my leg, gripping tight. Once he seemed satisfied no one was paying attention, his fingers began a circular motion on my skin.

I tried to concentrate on my salad, but it was difficult with him touching me. I stifled a moan while taking a bite as his hand moved up, reaching the hem of my skirt.

With slow, torturous movements, he roamed, leaving fire in his wake and an ache that was growing out of control. My hips flexed forward, shifting in my seat, trying to draw his hand down to where I needed him.

The wait staff cleared our salad plates and the conversation turned from getting to know one another to learning what the client needed.

No one noticed Nathan’s missing hand, nor the nearness in which his chair was situated to mine, angled toward me. His hand pushed my skirt up farther while we waited for the main course, and I was thankful for the large table cloth that covered my lower half. He was just inches from the Promised Land. My thighs shook with need.

My face was hot, and I knew I was flushed scarlet due to his fingers stroking me through the thin material of my panties. I brought the glass of water to my lips right when Nathan’s finger pushed the edge of my panties aside and slipped one finger in. I tried to swallow the water, but it became stuck when he entered me, and I began coughing and choking.

That gained everyone’s attention, and five males turned to look at me. All the while, Nathan didn’t stop, his fingers working slower, but deeper, sinking further.

“Are you okay?” Benjamin asked from my left.

“Yes, thank you, it just went down the wrong pipe.” The looks of concern from the men at the table relaxed, and out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn Nathan was smirking. “If you will all excuse me for a moment, I need to use the ladies room.”