Taking the Plunge (22 page)

“Can we split it?”

“Why would we do that?”

“It’s your gallery. It never would have been purchased if it weren’t for you.”

“Not to be
arrogant, but I sell plenty of paintings and have a considerable income. I don’t need to make commission off of you.”

She looked at the check, acting like it was poison. “What do I do with it?”

He shrugged. “Save it. Buy a house, groceries. What normal people do.”

“Maybe I should give it away.”

He smiled. “Why don’t you invest it?”

“Invest it?”

“Buy a business and employ people. Give them great salaries with benefits, the opposite of what your father does. You can still make money while helping other people.”

She looked at the check. “I guess I can do that.”

“And when you make more money, you can start giving it away.”

“Like you?”

He smiled. “You saw that?”

“You give away half
your income, Thatcher. That’s amazing.”

“It’s always anonymous.”

“God, I love you even more.”

“I
guess I’m doing something right,” he said.

She pushed the check away and stopped looking at it.

“Let’s put it in the bank for now and decide what to do with it later.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He looked at his watch. “Only a few more hours until work is over. Can I take you out to dinner tonight? A movie?”

“Can
we eat here and watch TV on the couch?”

Thatcher smiled. “I would like to take you out on a date. We’ve never been.”

“Oh.”

“I feel like we jumped into a relationship pretty quickly.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“How about just dinner
, then?”

She smiled. “Okay.”

He leaned into her and kissed her, making her breathing increase. “Just so you know, the only reason why I didn’t introduce you as my girlfriend is because I don’t want people to assume I’m only featuring your artwork because I’m in a relationship with you.”

That made her feel
better. “I understand.”

“Unless you don’t care.
Because I don’t. I’m just looking out for you.”

She shook her head. “I don
’t care either. People will judge my value based on my work alone.”

“Okay. Then I’ll make it clear next time.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

She sat down behind her desk and watched him disappear down the hallway. She looked at the clock, waiting for the time go by. Nancy wanted to get off work and spend the evening with her ridiculously perfect boyfriend. She kept glancing at the check on the desk, trying to ignore it. Having money excited her, but it also frightened her at the same time. She didn’t want to go down the wrong path.

As soon as her workday was over, she bolted upstairs to his living space. He was sitting in his office, his clothes covered in paint. She stood by the door, not wanting to distract him. He walked back and forth in front of the painting, the brush tucked behind his ear. Finally, he picked it up again and splashed a few extra dabs of paint on it.

“Can I come in?” she whispered.

He turned his head. “You’re always welcome wherever I am.”

She came to him but he didn’t touch her.

“I don’t want to get you dirty,” he explained.

She looked at the painting, her eyes softening when she recognized herself sleeping. Her hair stretched across the pillow, her lips were slightly open, and she seemed so angelic, innocent. A large hand was placed over her heart, not one that belonged to her. Her eyes bubbled with tears when she looked at it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to feature it in your gallery?”

“I don’t know. I may have to keep this one. I’m very possessive of you, anything that resembles you.”

She smiled at him then wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him. She didn’t care if she got dirty.

“I’m glad you like it,” he whispered.

“You’re a master, Thatcher. I love anything you make.”

He nodded to the ceiling. “Even my projects from my youth?”

“I love them even more.”

Thatcher pulled away. “I should shower before our date.”

“We could shower together.”

“We’ll never get out of here, then.” He walked into his bedroom and she followed him. He pulled a dress from his closest and placed it on the bed. “I was hoping you would wear this tonight.”

She looked at it, seeing the olive green color and the silky material. It was a backless dress, like the one she wore to the art gallery, and it was elegant, refined. “Thatcher, you don’t have to buy me things.”

“I’m perfectly aware of that. Do you like it?”

“Of course.”

“Then please wear it.” He kissed her forehead then left the room.

She held the dress to her chest, unable to believe how thoughtful he was. He was the sweetest man she’d ever known. Nancy changed and pulled on the dress, surprised that it fit perfectly. He guessed her size correctly.

When he came back, he was already dressed in slacks and a collared shirt. “Here are the shoes,” he said as he handed them to her. He put his hands in his pockets then looked at her, eyeing her body and her curves. “Turn around.”

She did as he asked.

He came behind her and placed his hands on her bare back, kissing the back of her neck. “Your body is so sexy.”

She leaned into him.

He kissed the back of her neck again before he pulled away. “Shall we, my dear?”

“Yes.”

They left the house
and drove to a Charter House right on the water. When they walked inside, Thatcher gave the name of the reservation and the waitress escorted them to a table by the window, away from everyone else. Thatcher pulled out her chair before he sat across from her.

“I thought you didn’t like eating out?”
she asked.

“I do every once in a while.”

“What did you get when you went out with Henry?”

“Grilled fish with no dressing.”

She picked up her menu and looked at the entrees. Everything looked good. “I don’t know what to get.”

“There’s a lot to choose from.” He looked at the menu then returned it to the table, returning his look to her face. He blatantly stared at her, eyeing her face like he was studying a painting. She glanced at her menu, feeling red under his stare,
then placed it back on the table. When she looked at him he didn’t looked away. He sipped his water then returned it to the table.

“You stare a lot,” she said.

“I have horrible manners.”

She smiled. “It’s okay.”

“You stare a lot too.”

She blushed. She knew she had a staring problem when he didn’t have his clothes on.
“I’m an artist. I like to look at things.”

He
smiled at her. “That’s the first time you said that.”

“First time I said what?”

“That you’re an artist.”

“Oh. I did, didn’t I?”

He tapped his glass against hers. “To wonderful beginnings.”

“I dropped out of college today.”

“How do you feel about it?” he asked.

“Good.”

He nodded. “You have no purpose there if you don’t enjoy it.”

“You’re right. I don’t have any regrets.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

She stared at him, studying the curve of his lips and the color of his eyes. Her thoughts turned sinister like the
y always did.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked. He read her mind like he always did.

“Thatcher, why haven’t we had sex?”

He didn’t respond to her words. His eyes didn’t flinch and his muscles didn’t tense. He was calm like he always was. “Do you want to?”

“More than anything,” she blurted.

His lip
s upturned into a slight small. “I’ve been avoiding it.”

“I noticed.” She waited for him to explain.

“I’m afraid if we have make love, you’ll get scared and run away.”

“Why would I?”

“The first time we’re together, it’ll be emotional, soul-trying. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. It’ll feel so wonderful it’ll hurt your heart. It’ll break your spirit, making you realize what you’ve been missing your whole live. In that moment, you’ll realize that everything else doesn’t matter but the moment we have. Since you’ve never really felt loved by anyone, it’ll shock you. I’m afraid you’ll run away because you’ll believe it’s not the love you deserve. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.”

She looked down at her hands in her lap, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t thought of that at all. Thatcher really did understand her better than anyone. He exposed parts of her that she repressed for so long she believed they were really gone. Perhaps the scars were difficult to see, but he could spot them easily.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered.

“I don’t mind waiting, Nancy. I enjoy doing—other things—with you.”

“I won’t run away,” she said as she looked at him.

He looked at her, judging her sincerity. “I still want to wait. I need to prepare for it. It has to be perfect.”

She felt the tears bubble under her eyes. “Thatcher…”

He leaned across the table and touched her hand. “Look at me.”

She did.

The calm in his eyes made her tears disappear. Looking into his depths stilled her beating heart and decreased the expansion of her lungs. When the waiter took their order, Thatcher ordered for both of them without breaking the trance between them. After the waiter left, he gently rubbed the top of her knuckles with his fingers. “It’ll be perfect because you deserve nothing less.” He pulled his hand back and leaned back in his chair. They were quiet for the rest of the evening, talking very seldom. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Even in their silence, they still conversed with their eyes. Thatcher paid for dinner, leaving a generous tip, then they left the restaurant.

When they came back to his house, he took her hand
and guided her inside. “Are you staying here or do you want to go your place?”

“I like staying here.”

“Okay.”

They went into his bedroom. Thatcher stripped off his clothes until he was standing in his brie
fs. Nancy turned around and lifted her hair, silently asking him to work the zipper in the back of her dress. He stiffened for a moment before he pulled it down, letting it fall to the floor. She didn’t have a bra on, so if she turned around he would see her breasts.

Thatcher came behind her then placed his large hands on her back, feeling every inch of her skin. His lips trailed across her body, kissing and licking the grooves of her muscles. She felt the heat burn long after his kiss was gone.
His breathing increased as he touched her, his warm breath falling on her exposed skin. He wrapped his hand around her neck, getting a firm grip on her.

“Nancy, I’m a very sexual person. You excite me in a ways I’ve never felt.” He pressed his chest against her back, pulling her against the bulge in his briefs. “And I think it’s because I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

She cupped the back of his neck as his lips pressed against her shoulder. His hands moved up her waist until he reached her breasts. He grabbed them in his large hands and massaged them, turning her on more than she already was. His hands moved to her panties and pulled them down, kissing her ass to her ankles then back again.

“Let me see you.”

She turned around, watching his eyes take her in.

He grabbed her waist then kissed each nipple, sucking it into his mouth, then moved his lips down, trailing his tongue down her stomach until he reached her hips. He kissed each side until he kneeled before her, pressing his lips against the apex of her thighs. His tongue licked her gently before he moved to her inner thighs. She fisted his hair while she watched him worship her body with kisses.

He came back to a stand then pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ve never seen something so beautiful in my life.”

She pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the muscle of his pectorals and stomach.

His nose rubbed against her as he guided her to the bed in the center of the room. She lay back and watched him move on top of her. Thatcher’s thighs separated hers and she felt his cock move against her folds. He was thick and round. She fantasized about how he would feel. Derek was amazing in bed but she had a feeling Thatcher was a million times better. No man had ever made her come without touching her. She had never been more attracted, more hot and bothered by anyone besides Thatcher. He was her ultimate fantasy, someone she would think about when she rubbed one out, and she couldn’t believe he was really hers. And the fact that he loved her and was so loyal to her made it a million times better.