Nate takes me back to his place as promised and as soon as we're past the threshold, he locks the door behind him and leans back against it, watching me with a predatory gaze like I'm his prey.

"It's not too late. You can still change your mind," he offers and I can't help but feel nervous on the inside.

"No, I want this," I say boldly but feel anything but confident. I just hope this doesn't come back and bite me in the ass later.

"Are you sure?" he asks, giving me one last out.

I hesitate but nod. "Yes," I whisper and as soon as my answer is out of my mouth, he pushes off the door and rips his shirt off and tosses it to the floor, revealing his too perfect abs that would give even Ryan Reynolds a run for his money. He takes one step towards me and I take one step back. "No touching," I remind him.

"You said you wouldn't touch me, but you never said I couldn't touch you."

"Nate," I warn him and he grins.

"What? It's true," he says smugly, knowing he has the upper hand.

Bastard.

"I don't care. Keep your distance. You're too tempting with your shirt off," I say bluntly. He perks up at my admission.

"I like your honesty." He takes my hand in his and I give him a warning glare that tells him not to test me because I am weak and can only say no to him for so long. He heeds my warning and pulls me into the kitchen behind him. He pulls out a chair for me like the gentleman he is and gestures for me to take a seat. "My lady," he says with a horrible English accent and I can't help but snort.

"You're terrible with accents," I tell him and take a seat.

"I'd like to see you do better."

"I'm not even going to try. I suck too," I admit and he laughs.

"You had to be bad at something."

"I'm bad at lots of things but luckily you're good at almost everything. You make up for what I lack."

"Like cooking," he offers and I nod.

"Exactly. I can't cook but thankfully you can."

"That I can. I'm going to make you something really good. Just you watch."

"I can't wait," I admit excitedly.

"Any requests?"

"No, I want you to surprise me."

"Your wish is my command," he says and walks over to the fridge and starts pulling out a bunch of random ingredients. I just watch in awe as his back muscles and arms flex. It's truly a sight to behold.

"You know, I always wanted a man who can cook," I muse, needing something to talk about so I have something other than his sexy back to focus on. This gets his attention.

He stops what he's doing and closes the fridge and leans back against it. When he does, he hisses and pulls away from it. "Fuck, that's cold," he complains and I laugh. "So you've always wanted a man who can cook?" he asks curiously and I nod, but I don't miss for one second the full view he's giving me of his full front. He crosses his arms over his chest and I pout, wishing he didn't cover part of himself up. Oh well. I'll just have to settle for staring at his big muscular arms and his very defined abs that are just begging for me to trace them with my fingers. I bite my lip and hear a throat clear.

I peel my gaze from Nate's perfect torso and meet his gaze that is filled with desire and something else.

"Keep looking at me like that and I won't be cooking anymore," he tells me with a smirk and I quickly snap out of it.

"Where were we?"

"You were telling me you always wanted a man who could cook," he says amused and I nod.

"Yes!" I perk up, remembering where we were before I got distracted by his Godly body. "I love making dessert but cooking actual food has never been my forte so I always stupidly wished for a guy who could cook so he could make the meals and I could make dessert," I admit, feeling suddenly embarrassed by my admission.

"We all have our wants and luckily for you, I can not only fulfill your want but I also can fulfill all your needs," he promises and I gasp, picking up on his double entendre. When I don't respond, he goes back to what he was doing and leaves me with my thoughts. Thoughts that are starting to go places they shouldn't.

We're starting to tread on dangerous territory and the worst part is that I don't even hate it. Not one bit. Damn you, Nate. What are you doing to me? You're waking up things inside me, I didn't even know existed.

I sigh out loud and don't even realize it until I feel Nate's gaze zeroed in on me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks me but I refuse to acknowledge where my thoughts were just seconds ago. He's making me want things I shouldn't. At least, not yet.

"Do you cook shirtless all the time?" I ask him, changing the subject and he grins, knowing full well I'm avoiding his question with another question, but he doesn't pry and keeps at what he's doing.

"Sometimes," he admits and I can't help but envy the four walls of his kitchen. I wish I could watch him cook all the time. He looks so sexy in his element.

"I wonder what your kitchen would say if it could talk," I muse.

"You don't want to know," he says bluntly and I don't ask, but I sure as hell want to know why he said that. What could he possibly do in his kitchen that he doesn't want me to know? Cook naked? As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I feel my cheeks heat up and have no doubt they have a red tinge to them too.

Cooking naked isn't that bad though. Especially, when you live alone and do it in the privacy of your own home. Maybe he's done stuff in his kitchen. And by stuff, I mean stuff of the sexual nature.

No! He wouldn't. Would he?

He hasn't been living long here and has really only been with me since moving in. Unless there were other women in between him moving here and him asking me out. The thought kills me but I can't help but let doubt seep in.

"Nate, can I ask you something?" I ask him on a whim.

"Anything," he responds quickly, having no clue what I'm about to ask him.

"Did you date or see any other women after you met me?" I ask him and he whips his head in my direction. "It really doesn't matter," I say in an attempt to assuage him but I'm not sure who I'm trying to reassure. Him or me? "It's not like we were dating. I just want to know," I admit and feel my heart deflate as it prepares for the worst.

"What makes you think that?" he asks me and I can tell my words hurt him.

"Well, you said I wouldn't want to know what happened in here, so it makes me wonder if you brought women home before we became official. Again, if you did, it's not a big deal," I lie but it is a big deal. It's a big deal to me, but I don't tell him that. I don't want him to see how weak and insecure I feel on the inside.

He stops what he's doing and walks over to where I'm sitting and starts to kneel in front of me and I reach out to stop him. "Nate, don't. You don't have to kneel," I insist but he ignores my words and gets on his knees and takes my hands into his, and I let him, needing the physical contact.

"Alexa, look at me," I hear him say and look up from our intertwined hands to his gorgeous blue eyes. "I promise you that there has been no one but you in my life since the day I met you," he tells me and I believe him. I do. His eyes don't lie.

"Then why the weird comment?"

"You're so innocent. I don't want you to think I'm a sick bastard," he says ashamed and I can't help but feel bad. The last thing I want is for him to feel ashamed.

"I would never."

"You would if you knew..." he trails off and I shake my head.

"No, never," I reassure him. "I won't ask anymore but I'm not going to lie and say I'm not curious," I tell honestly and this makes him grin.

"Maybe I'll tell you one day but not today."

"Fine but you better tell me someday."

"I'll think about it," he says with a boyish grin.

"I'm sorry I doubted you. It won't happen again," I reassure him.

"Promise?"

"I promise." I seal my promise with a kiss on the lips and I break my other promise to him in the process, but I do it knowing that we both need to feel the connection between us. "I also promise not to touch you anymore. At least not until your shirt comes back on," I tell him and he chuckles.

"If you don't keep to your word, I'm going to forget all about cooking and just toss you on my couch and make out with you all day." I feel my heart race at the underlying threat in his tone that tells me not to tempt him. As much as I'd love to, I know better than that. After our heated kisses in the parking lot, I now realize we have to be careful around each other because if we're not, things get heated too quickly and as much as I enjoy every touch, kiss and bite he gives me, I'm not ready for more than that. Thankfully, he understands that and never pushes me to do something I don't want to do or am not ready for. Not many men would wait but Nate has been nothing but patient and I'm so thankful to him for that.

"Understood," I respond. "Now go cook. I'm starving."

He chuckles and stands up. I think he's just about to walk away from me when he frames my face with his hands and presses a kiss to my forehead. I close my eyes and relish the moment, wishing it could last forever. When he walks off, I sigh out loud, already missing the feel of his lips and slowly peel my eyes open to see Nate back in the kitchen, hard at work. I love seeing him so focused on his task at hand. It's downright sexy.

"You make cooking look sexy," I compliment him as he turns on the stove.

"Just cooking?" he asks over his shoulder and I laugh.

"Maybe." I bite my lip and his gaze immediately falls to my lips. "Stop staring and get back to work."

He growls in frustration but rips his eyes away from my lips and gets back to cooking. I watch in awe as he mixes ingredients, adds spices and God knows what else to some meat he's preparing. I don't have the slightest clue what he's making but it's starting to smell delicious. I can't wait to taste it.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

"Be my guest."

"Don't miss me while I'm gone," I tease him and brush my side against him on the way out of the kitchen and I hear him groan. "We agreed to no touching but I never said I couldn't feel you pressed against me," I tell him playfully over my shoulder and he curses under his breath.

Two can play at this game, I think triumphantly.

I'm just walking out of the kitchen when I feel a hard smack on my backside. I shriek and whip around, giving Nate a murderous glare.

"We said no touching," I bite out. "That includes spanking," I inform him and he smirks.

Bastard.

"You said you wouldn't touch me. I never agreed to not touching you," he reminds me and I groan in frustration.

"I hate you!" I bellow and stomp out of the kitchen.

"You know you love me, Alexa!" I hear him yell from the entryway of the kitchen.

"I'm starting to question my judgment," I mutter under my breath.

"I heard that." I hear his loud chuckle all the way to the bathroom and grit my teeth. As soon as I'm in the confines of his bathroom, I slam the door shut behind me and lock it, not wanting to risk him coming after me. I huff and make my way to the counter and see that my face is flush. It's all Nate's fault. If he hadn't spanked me, I wouldn't be blushing beet red.

I rub the spot where he smacked me over my skirt and groan. He hits so hard. I'm not all that surprised with how strong he is, but damn, he has one heavy hand. What pisses me off is that I'm not even really mad at him. It definitely took me by surprise and it hurt at first but the pain is gone now and in its wake is the sensation of his hand on my backside. Why did he have to do that? Now I'm just confused and frustrated. Stupid, Nate.

I sigh out loud and leave my spot at the counter to pee really quickly. Once I've gone about all my business, I quietly open the door to the bathroom and hear sounds from the kitchen, which means Nate must still be hard at work. I quietly step out of the bathroom and head for the kitchen when I see his bedroom door ajar.

I decide to take a detour and push open the door of his bedroom just enough to slide inside. I find his bed perfectly made and make quick work of my boots and socks before throwing myself onto his bed. I roll around on the sheets, messing it up in my path and grin at my job well done when I see what a mess his bed is. It's the least he deserves after spanking me.

I grab one of his pillows and lay my head on it, loving how it smells just like him. I close my eyes and tell myself I'm only going to relax for a moment when I doze off with a big smile on my face.

***

"Wake up, sleepy head," I hear someone say and groan out loud. I feel a hand caress my cheek and sigh in contempt. This is nice. Keep doing that, I think. "It's time to get up," that annoying voice tells me and I shake my head

"Go away," I groan.

"I would let you sleep all day but you need to eat," he reminds me.

"No, I don't. Now go away and let me sleep," I respond grumpily.

"Yes, you do."

"No."

"Don't make me spank you again," I hear the person threaten and peel my eyes open to see Nate laying across from me in the dark with a wicked grin on his face. The room is almost pitch black but there's enough light from the moon coming in that I can see his silhouette and parts of his face in the dark. I glare at him, knowing full well he probably can't see me, but I sure hope he feels my glare boring a hole through him.

"Don't you dare," I hiss.

"Then get up."

"No," I grumble and feel his fingertips graze the part of my stomach that's showing between my crop top and my skirt and I immediately stop his hand in its tracks. I'm not comfortable with him touching my stomach. Not yet. "Don't do that, please," I plead.

"Okay, I won't do it anymore," he says and I can tell I hurt him but I can't help it. I don't feel comfortable with the idea of him touching my stretch marks.

"I'm sorry," I apologize and he shakes his head.

"Don't be."

I feel for him in the dark and find that he's at an arm's length. I look for his chest in the dark and when I find it, I realize he put his shirt back on. I scoot myself closer to him and press my body up against his, hoping my actions will soothe him. The last thing I want is for him to think I don't trust him. I do. There are just parts of me I don't feel comfortable sharing with him yet.

He immediately wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. "I love you, Alexa," I hear him whisper and my stomach flutters just like the first time he confessed his love to me.

"I love you too," I respond and press a kiss to his chest. He laughs and I bite him where I kissed him. "Don't laugh. I don't know where your face is so I kissed whatever was in front of me," I say defensively and feel him run his fingers down my back. As soon as he gets close to my exposed skin, I freeze.

"Sorry," he apologizes and quickly pulls his hand away. "I can't help but want to touch you."

I feel my heart skip a beat at his admission.

"Are you really that surprised?"

"Yes," I admit embarrassed. "I can't believe you want to touch me. My skin is damaged. Just like the rest of me," I whisper the last part and I hear him sigh.

"Your skin is perfect just like you," he tells me and I wish his words had their intended effect but they don't. No matter what he says, all I see is damaged goods when I look at myself in the mirror.

"Don't feed me your lies. They won't work on me," I tell him and feel my walls coming back up around me.

"I want nothing more than to run my fingers down your back and I don't mean over your shirt. I want to feel your skin under my fingertips," he tells me and I feel my heart race at the thought.

"I don't want you touching my stretch marks. They're ugly and feel gross to the touch." I've never loved my stretch marks and don't think I ever will. People told me they looked disgusting growing up and I believed it and now I can't look at them without feeling revulsion. "I hate my stretch marks," I say bluntly. "And I fear that you'll hate them too," I admit out loud, letting my insecurities show. "I don't want you to be disgusted by me when you touch me."

"Alexa, I could never hate any part of you," he whispers and I feel a tear drip down my cheek. I bury my face in his chest and cry into his shirt as the first sob racks my body. He pulls me into his arms impossibly closer and holds me tight as I sob into his chest. "I hate that people made you hate who you are. I'd beat the shit out of all of them if I could," he tells me and that gets me to laugh in between tears. That would be a sight to behold but as much as I like the idea of my bullies getting what they deserve, I would never want to hurt them for what they did to me. I'm better than that and someday will learn to live with all the damage they caused me but today is not that day.

"As much as I love the idea of you being my knight in shining armor, I don't ever want you to hurt anyone on my behalf. Especially, not my bullies. You're better than that. We both are," I tell him and uselessly wipe away the tears that won't stop falling.

"You're too good," he tells me and I shake my head.

"I'm not. I still hold a lot of resentment towards everyone who ever bullied me. A good person would learn to let that all go, but I can't. At least not yet. But I hope that someday I can learn to let go of all this built up hate and resentment that is poisoning me from the inside out."

"A bad person wouldn't want to let that go but you do. You may not be there yet but I have faith that someday you will."

"You give me way too much credit," I say and feel a new wave of tears come on.

"No, I just believe in you," he tells me and presses a kiss to my hair.

"Sometimes I wish I could have met you sooner," I admit out loud. "Maybe I wouldn't be so damaged if I had, but everything happens for a reason, and for whatever reason we weren't meant to meet sooner so I have to believe that fate knows what it's doing," I tell him and grip the hem of his shirt in my hand as a sob racks my body.

"I'm just glad fate brought us together," he tells me and I nod in between tears.

"I like to believe that you came into my life to repair all the damage everyone wreaked on my heart and my soul," I tell him and pull away from his chest to look up at his face. I can barely make out his features but I see just enough of him to know he's looking down at me. I see his hand move in the darkness and close my eyes when I feel his thumb wipe away one of my tears. He wipes each and every tear and with every swipe, he replaces each tear with a kiss until every tear that stained my face is gone.

"Thank you," I whisper. He slides his fingers into my hair and presses a loving kiss to my forehead. I sigh and he pulls away to look at me.

"Do you trust me?" he asks me suddenly and I nod.

"With my life," I respond and I mean it wholeheartedly. I don't know when or how it happened, but I trust him with every ounce of my being.