Taking the Plunge Page 19

  She picked up her brush and splashed the color onto the page, creating something she hadn’t pictured in her mind. She just expressed her emotions, showing a family lost, without food or shelter, and a man standing on top of a hill, the sun shining down on him, the birds singing in the trees, but he was alone, the vast expanse of the world as his only company. She dabbed the details until she felt the sunlight leave the room, leaving her in darkness. She turned on the light and kept going, adding the morbid tones and colors. It was the darkest piece she’d ever created, making her realize her hidden anger and spite toward her father. She really hated him, truly and utterly.

  She sat on the stool and pulled her legs to her chest, balancing on the small chair. She stared at the painting, looking at the details. Even though she released her frustration, she was still pissed. She could punch her fist through solid rock she was so upset.

  She sighed then turned toward the door, knowing she needed to clean the paint from her hands. Thatcher was leaning against the door, watching her. Nancy stiffened when she saw him, not expecting his presence. How long had he been standing there?

  Thatcher looked at her then the painting, saying nothing.

  “How long have you been there?” she asked.

  “An hour.”

  They stared at each other, saying nothing. Thatcher moved from the door then approached her, standing behind her and holding her waist while he rested his chin on her forehead. He stared at the painting up close, his eyes taking in every color and every feature. After a few minutes, he leaned down and kissed her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “I hate him.”

  His hands rubbed her shoulders gently, calming her with his touch.

  “I really do.”

  Thatcher kissed the back of her neck. “This is your best work.”

  She shook her head.

  “It is, Nancy. You’re the most talented artist I’ve ever met. And I’ve met many.”

  She looked up at him and he kissed her nose.

  He came around then kneeled in front of her, his head between her thighs. “And if you weren’t so upset, I would say this is the sexist thing I’ve ever seen. You’re wearing my shirt, splashes of paint on your skin.” He moved his hands up her thighs. “With nothing but panties underneath.” He kissed her inner thighs then stood up, leaning over her.

  She blushed despite the sincerity in his voice. She wrapped her arms around his waist then leaned her head against his chest. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Then we should get a mirror in here.”

  She smiled then pulled away.

  He rubbed his nose against hers. “I’m sorry about everything.”

  “I know you are. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Some people are greedy. It’s an obsession, a sickness. Sometimes it can’t be cured.”

  “He lost me and he doesn’t care at all.”

  “How do you know? You haven’t talk to him.”

  “He hasn’t tried to contact me.”

  “Isn’t your phone still off?”

  “Well…yeah.”

  “Because you’re afraid he’ll call you.”

  She looked away, not wanting to discuss it. “Did you have fun with Henry?”

  “Yeah. He’s a good guy. I can tell he and I will be great friends.”

  “I’m glad you like him. It’s hard not to.”

  “I want you to meet my friends as well.”

  “I thought you were a hermit?” she teased.

  He laughed. “I have a small number of friends, but I care about them all deeply.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Good. I’ll ask Portisha when she’s free.”

  “Portisha? That sounds like a girl.”

  “Because it is,” he said with a laugh.

  “Oh. You have a friend that’s a girl?”

  “She’s my one of my closest friends,” he said with a nod.

  For some reason, the idea of him having a female friend made her very uncomfortable. It was stupid, immature, but she felt it.

  He looked into her eyes, recognizing her unease. “Portisha and I are cousins.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

  Thatcher laughed. “I’m glad to know I have your trust,” he said sarcastically.

  “No,” she said quickly. “It isn’t that. I just don’t want to fight for you all the time.”

  “Fight for me?”

  “You can’t have a friend that’s a girl who doesn’t want to have your babies. The first time you touched me, my ovaries popped.”

  He smiled. “You seem to think everyone is as attracted to me as you are.”

  “Because they are.”

  “That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m a very difficult person to get close to. Most of the time, I intimidate people.”

  “Because you’re so hot,” she said.

  He shook his head then kissed her forehead. “I don’t have any friends that are girls besides my cousin. I don’t plan on getting any besides Sydney and Ren. I’m not a liar and a cheat. I’m yours—only yours. I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear.”

  Now she felt horrible for overreacting. “Thatcher, I know that already. I’m sorry I freaked out on you. I trust you more than anyone.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. Without trust, there can be no relationship.”

  She cupped his face and kissed his cheek. “You’re my best friend, Thatcher. I trust you with my life. I can’t lie and say I’ll never be jealous because I know I will, but I do trust you.”

  “There’s no need to be jealous either. You’re the only person I think about in a romantic way. My body and my thoughts are yours exclusively.”

  “You’re so sweet to me.”

  “Because I love you.” He picked her up then carried her from the room. “Now take a shower and get ready for bed. I want to kiss you everywhere and get a good night sleep.”

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  “And I am sorry about your dad. You know I’m always here to talk.”

  “I know, Thatcher. You’ll always be there.”

  His eyes shined bright at her words. Wordlessly, he conveyed his gratitude without speaking. He nodded then walked away, disappearing into his bedroom. After she showered and dressed herself, she walked inside his bedroom. He was lying in bed already, shirtless. That was a good sign. When she slid between the sheets, she realized he was wearing his briefs. Disappointment flooded through her. But they didn’t get far anyway. After he kissed her, devoured her body and her mouth, she felt herself convulse around him, exploding. He followed right behind her, getting off to the touch of her hand.

  22

  “So you’re officially withdrawing from the university?” Sydney asked when they sat in the cafeteria.

  “Yeah,” Nancy said with a smile.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Nancy nodded. “More than sure. I know where I belong.”

  Sydney glanced at Ren then nodded. “If that’s what you want, you have my support.”

  “Thank you,” Nancy said.

  Sydney glanced at Coen, Henry, and Derek then moved closer to Nancy at the edge of the table. The guys were discussing fantasy football so they weren’t listening anyway.

  Sydney smiled. “So, what’s been happening with Thatcher?”

  Nancy blushed.

  “Ooh. This is gonna be good,” Ren said.

  “By the way, Laura was totally put out that you landed him,” Sydney said with a laugh. “But she got over it.”

  Nancy shrugged. “We’ve been doing—stuff.”

  “You haven’t had sex yet?” Sydney asked.

  Nancy shook her head. “No.”

  “But you already said the L word, right?” Ren asked.

  “Yeah,” Nancy answered.

  “So…what are you waiting for?” Sydney asked.

  “I’m not waiting for anything,” N
ancy said. “Every time we start to fool around, we both—finish right away.”

  Ren cringed. “Thatcher doesn’t have any endurance? That sucks.”

  “No,” Nancy said. “It’s not that. It’s like doesn’t want to have sex.”

  “Why don’t you just ask him?” Sydney asked. “I mean, you want to do the deed, right?”

  Nancy glared at Sydney. “Is that a serious question? Have you seen him?”

  Sydney laughed. “Good point.”

  “Is he waiting until marriage?” Ren asked.

  “No, I know he’s had sex before. He used to be engaged,” Nancy said.

  “What?” Sydney asked. “He was engaged? What happened?”

  Nancy shrugged. “She left him.”

  “Was she crazy?” Ren asked.

  “I asked the same thing,” Nancy said.

  “Just ask him what’s going on,” Sydney said. “If a guy wants to have sex, he has sex. He definitely skips all the foreplay stuff.”

  Coen looked over at Sydney. “What are you hens gossiping about?”

  Sydney and Ren exchanged a glance. “Tampons,” Sydney answered.

  He made a disgusted face. “Carry on.”

  Sydney giggled then looked away. “The first time I asked Coen to get me some from the store, he acted like he was about to walk onto the battlefield.”

  Nancy laughed. “Thatcher isn’t like that. He’s so—calm, mature. He doesn’t get upset about anything. He’s always so pragmatic and—logical.”

  “That’s good,” Sydney said. “But also bad.”

  “What do you mean?” Nancy asked.

  “Well, is he passionate—in the bedroom?” Sydney asked.

  Nancy replayed last night in her head. “There’s not a problem there.”

  “Just got for it,” Ren said. “Crawl on top of him and do it.”

  “Are you on the pill still?” Sydney asked.

  “Yeah,” Nancy asked.

  “Then go for it,” Ren said. “Henry was so against it for the longest time. I had to take the reins a few times.”

  “Well, that was totally different,” Nancy said.

  “Then talk to him,” Sydney said. “You know him better than we do.”

  “I guess,” Nancy said. “I’ll ask him today after work.”

  “Problem solved,” Sydney said with a smile.

  Ren shook her head. “This guy sounds too perfect.”

  Nancy smiled. “He is perfect. He’s the real deal. And his thing is—impressive.”

  “I know you aren’t talking about tampons,” Coen said, glaring at Sydney.

  “Now we’re talking about the pill,” Sydney said. “Go away.”

  Coen glared at her.

  Sydney rolled her eyes. “He’s annoyed that there’s a guy in the world that’s hotter than him.”

  “I can hear you,” he said.

  “I said it pretty loud,” she snapped back.

  Nancy laughed. “You’re married. Why is he being jealous?”

  “I have no idea,” Sydney said.

  “Well, talking about the size of cock doesn’t make me feel any better,” Coen said.

  Sydney grabbed a napkin and threw it at him. “You’re being so annoying right now.”

  “How would you feel if I was talking about the size of another girl’s rack?”

  She sighed then moved to his seat, sitting on his lap. “I love you, baby.” She rubbed her nose against his then kissed him gently, making him melt. “Is that better?”

  “It doesn’t hurt to say it once in a while,” Coen said.

  “You’re cute,” she said as she ran her hand down his chest. “You’re getting all jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous,” he said quickly.

  “I like Thatcher,” Henry said. “We went out to dinner last night.”

  “What?” Coen said, leaning forward. “Why didn’t you invite me?”

  Sydney shook her head. “Why are you acting this way?”

  Coen ignored her. “What’s up with that? Are you guys best friends now?”

  Henry laughed. “Dude, I’m still your best guy. He just wanted to hang.”

  Sydney nodded. “Now I get it. You’re jealous Thatcher is going to replace you as the alpha of this group.”

  Derek took a bite of his pizza. “I like him too.”

  Coen glared at him. “You’re the one person who’s supposed to be on my side.”

  Derek shrugged. “I can’t lie. He’s awesome.”

  Coen shook his head. “Worthless.”

  Nancy smiled, loving how much her friends liked him. She was starting to think they liked him more than they liked her. “How about you hang out with Thatcher?” she asked.

  Coen looked at her. “Why? Did he say he would want to do that?”

  “I can ask.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Sydney laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re so cute.”

  He smiled. “I like what I’m hearing.”

  Nancy glanced across the table and looked at Derek. If he was hurt or upset by her relationship with Thatcher, he hid it well. She was glad he was being so supportive. It meant a lot to her. She could forgive him for everything he did since he was being selfless about the situation.

  After she finished her classes and finally withdrew from the college, she left the parking light with a weight lifted off her shoulders. Now that she was pursing her dream, something that was actually feasible, she realized college wasn’t where she belonged, especially science. Being with Thatcher, learning from him was where she was better suited.

  When she thought about him, she felt her stomach fill with butterflies. She couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about his gorgeous eyes, his naked body, his—stuff. When her mind wondered to obscene daydreams, she wondered why he hadn’t initiated something more intimate. They were doing juvenile things, which she still enjoyed, but she wondered why something more hadn’t happened.

  When she arrived at the house, she walked to her desk and started working, hoping Thatcher would come downstairs and pay her a visit. After a few minutes, he appeared downstairs, wearing slacks, a collared shirt, and a vest. To say he looked handsome would be an understatement. He approached her desk then kissed her gently, making her swoon right on the spot.

  “I just came down to say hello. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

  “You can distract me whenever you want.”

  He smiled. “I wish I could say the same.”

  She ran her hands up his chest, wanting to rip off his shirt. “Why do you look so spiffy?”

  “I have an appointment with a client.”

  “Oh. They’re in for a treat.”

  “That’s how I sell my paintings,” he said with a smile.

  She rose to her feet then sat on the desk. He pulled her ass to the edge then came between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck then kissed him gently, her tongue touching the corner of his mouth. His hands moved up her waist, stopping just below her breasts. He didn’t move further up and she wanted him to. Nancy grabbed his hands and placed them over her breasts. Thatcher didn’t move for a moment, breathing into her mouth. Then he squeezed her breasts then gently and kissed her harder, his erection pressed against her waist.

  A voice was heard as well as approaching footsteps.

  “Okay, I’ll call you back,” a woman said before she reached the door.

  Thatcher pulled his hands away then stepped back just as Nancy straightened her clothes and returned to her seat behind the desk.

  The woman was young and thin, wearing a pencil skirt and a blouse.

  “Hello, Thatcher,” she said as she opened her arms.

  He embraced her then stepped back quickly. “It’s nice to see you, Louisa.”

  “I’ve been meaning to add something new to the collection.”

  “Well, you came to the right place.”

  Louisa looked at Nancy, an eyebrow raised. “Wher
e’s Diane?”

  Thatcher placed his hands in his pockets. “She resigned a week ago. This is her replacement, Nancy.”

  Nancy stood and shook her hand. She waited for Thatcher to introduce her as his girlfriend but he didn’t.

  “Shall we?” Thatcher said, extending his hand to the showcase room.

  “We shall,” she said as she walked in.

  Nancy watched them go with a sad expression. She wasn’t sure why she was so offended Thatcher didn’t introduce her. Perhaps it was because the woman was young and attractive. She wasn’t sure.

  After they were in the showcase room for half an hour, Nancy tried to preoccupy herself with other assignments. Louisa was probably swooning all over him, touching his arm and his back. She pinched her pen a little harder than necessary when she thought of it.

  “Nancy?”

  She looked up and saw Thatcher standing in the entryway. “Yes?”

  “Could you join us please?”

  “Of course.” She walked into the room and saw Louisa standing in front of the painting Nancy drew yesterday. Louisa stood in front of it, staring at it like she expected it to move.

  “How much?” she asked.

  Thatcher placed his arm around Nancy’s waist and ushered her forward. “Ask the artist.”

  Nancy smiled, relieved that he showed her some affection.

  “You painted this?” Louisa asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Thatcher smiled at Nancy. “She’s very talented, one of the best artists I know. I’m honored that she allowed me to feature any of her artwork in my gallery.”

  Louisa nodded then looked back at the painting. “How much?”

  Nancy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t think her work was worth more than twenty bucks, fifty at the most.

  Thatcher sensed her hesitance. “Fifty.”

  Louisa nodded. “I’ll take it.”

  Nancy didn’t understand what just happened. Fifty what? Pennies? “You want to buy my painting?” she asked incredulously.

  “Of course,” Louisa said. “It’s beautiful. I work for an art collector. I know for a fact he would love this.”

  Thatcher leaned into her ear. “Confidence.”