Free Fall

He was also very funny. He had a dry humor that caught me off guard and made me laugh hard and long, in ways only my best friends could. As the evening wore on I added a feeling of love and admiration to the complex cocktail of emotions Nico stirred up.

We talked for almost two hours, moving from topic to topic without any obvious path. We talked a lot about family, and eventually the conversation led us to Jackie, his wife. I'd been intensely curious about her since I'd learned about her. Rose hadn't mentioned her more than a few times, and there was only one photo of her—a group picture of the whole family—on display in the house. I knew it was a delicate subject, and I wasn't sure he'd want to talk, but I asked anyway. At first he was surprised, but he also seemed glad to spend some time describing her and the twelve years they'd known each other.

It was obvious he was tired, even when we were deep in conversation, he had to stifle a couple of yawns. I kept looking for cues that he was ready for me to leave, but I didn't see any. I didn't really want to leave. I didn't want to cut my exclusive access to Rose's handsome brother short, but I worried he needed sleep more than I needed to be in his company.

"I should go," I said after a particularly long yawn. "You should get to bed."

He followed me into the kitchen with the empty beer bottles and put them next to the sink. I found my purse and phone on the breakfast bar, and glanced around the room to make sure it was cleaned up.

"Are you working tomorrow?" I asked.

He shook his head and covered a yawn with his hand. "Not this weekend. But I've got the kids, so..."

"How many hours do you work in a week?"

"Sixty? Sixty-five?" He ran his hand through his hair, thinking. When he pulled his hand away, his hair was messed up in a most attractive manner. I had an urge to reach up to fix it, or maybe mess it up more. "Mmm...maybe more like seventy if you add in work at the house." After seeing my shocked expression he added, "It's not that bad. I don't work half that in the winter, summer's just busy. The worst part of it is not seeing Lena."

"How do you keep going, though? You must be exhausted all the time."

"Sometimes I am. It depends on the work. This week was a lot of physical labor, and it was a hot week. Monday and Tuesday I put in a couple of hours of work at the house after Lena was in bed, so I'm more tired than usual."

"I really admire your work ethic," I said. He laughed. "I'm serious. You have such a passion for what you do. My best friend JD is the same way. He's an artist, and he's so passionate about his work, he can work for hours on end in the studio and never get tired of it. I really envy that."

"You're not passionate?"

"I don't know," I said. "I was. For a long time, all I could imagine was being a doctor. I was so excited about the idea of going to med school. It was all I thought about. But then I stopped loving it. And now...I don't know. When I think about it, it's just...there's nothing there."

"It sounds like you realized medicine isn't your real passion."

"Yeah. But what is?" I sighed. I hadn't thought about my school dilemma for a while, I'd been so happy hanging out with my grandparents on the weekends, and pleasantly distracted by Rose and Mike, the kids, and of course, enjoying my crush on Nico, I'd successfully set it aside. "I really have no idea what I love doing anymore. I could go into so many different science fields, but I lack a...a special thing. A focus. A passion."

He looked at me for a long time. "You're kidding, right?"

"What?"

"Your passion." I waited and watched a smile creep across his face. It wasn't an amused smile exactly, so I knew he wasn't laughing at me, but I felt a little annoyed that I didn't get the joke. "You don't know what it is?"

"No."

"Your passion is people, Zoe."

"People?"

"God, yes. I've never met anyone so tuned in to others."

"I don't think I'm any better with people than you, or Rose. She knows everybody in town, she's got like a million friends."

"That's just because she's lived here her whole life and she loves being in everybody's business. But, it's not about knowing people, it's about getting them. You get people, you understand them in ways most people don't. I'd have to work hard at it, but it's just second nature to you."

When I didn't reply—I was too busy trying to make sense of his words and decide if they really described me—he went on.

"The first time you met Lucas, you were right there, right on his level. Without hesitation. You didn't think about it, you just knew what he needed.

"And Lena...well, maybe you don't know this, but she takes a long time to warm up to people. She tends to hang back in new situations and just wait and watch. She's shy around people she doesn't know, but she was never shy with you, was she?" I shook my head, remembering the first days I spent with the kids, how bubbly and sweet Lena was. I would have never called her shy. "She climbs right up in your lap. She never does that, Zoe. Except with me and sometimes her grandpa, but she has never once crawled into my sister's lap. Not once. She loves her Auntie Rose, but she's choosy about who she really bonds with."

I could tell this was a big deal. I could tell it meant more to him than the sum of the words. And something in the look on his face made my heart race.

"She's never bonded with someone as fast as she did with you. Or as completely. That's your talent, right there. That's your passion."

I stared at him. Was he right? "I don't know," I said. I wasn't convinced.

"You're not afraid to talk about hard stuff either. Earlier, when you asked me about Jackie, you knew exactly what to ask. You asked me things I always wish people would ask me about her. You made me feel OK about missing her. People don't bring her up, not even my family. I guess they're worried about reminding me of her, but..."

"You already think about her all the time," I said after a few seconds, finishing the sentence he left hanging.

"See, that's what I mean. That's exactly it. You get it. What are you—22? There's no way you should be that wise, Zoe. But you are. You're wise and you're unafraid." He was leaning against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked so tired, but he smiled. "You're...amazing. And you don't even know it, which just makes you even more fantastic."

"I don't know what I am," I said. "I just know I don't have any specific talents, or none that I love the way you love what you do, or Rose loves what she does."

"I wasn't born with a trowel in my hand. I had to train, and my passion for it came later, but I could just as easily be a carpenter. I could do that, I'm skilled enough, and I have the ability to learn a new trade. But with you—it's not so much what you do, it's who you are. You couldn't stop being like this if you tried. You can't not be awesome."

I laughed. It was a funny thing to say, but it was also sweet and it made my face go hot.

"I admire you, Zoe. I wish I had a little bit of your courage. I wish I wasn't such a coward."

"You're not a coward." There were a lot of things I'd call Nico, but 'coward' wasn't one of them.

"Oh, you don't know that. There are so many things I haven't done because I'm just too scared."

"Like what?"

He looked away for a second then back again. His face changed in that moment. He'd been smiling when he'd called himself a coward, and the whole thing had felt light and silly, just friendly banter. I'd asked my question in the same casual tone, but it was clearly anything but casual to him, his expression became so serious. It took him a long time to answer, but when he did it felt like all the air left the room.

"Like, telling you how attracted to you I am. Or how often I think about you."

I stared at him, unable to reply. This was what I'd wanted. It didn't seem real.

"You have no idea," he continued, "how many times I wanted to lean over and kiss you this evening."

"What are you afraid of?"

He didn't answer right away. When he did finally speak, he was obviously embarrassed. "It's irrational."

"Fear usually is, isn't it?"

"I guess so, but this is...it's stupid." He laughed softly to himself and closed his eyes for a second before he admitted, "I think my heart might stop. I know. It's ridiculous, but it's...it feels that scary. I really think it might stop. I guess it's the fear of feeling too much, you know? After losing Jackie..."

"Of course," I said softly. Somehow I managed a joke even though my heart was pounding and my head was throbbing. "I'm not that bad a kisser."

He laughed softly again, and didn't look away.

I waited, trying not to hold my breath as he continued to look at me. I desperately wanted something to happen, but I waited while he considered the situation.

"So, you're saying..." His eyebrows rose slowly, hopefully. His face was a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "I should try it? See what happens?"

"I took a CPR class a couple of years ago. I'm pretty sure I can revive you if your heart stops."

He smiled at me and I thought I saw the moment when he made up his mind, but he continued looking at me for a few more seconds. When he finally moved across the room toward me, I had to remind myself to breathe. It was much harder now that he was close, closer than we'd ever been face to face. He took my hand in his, his palm was so hot on my skin. I realized it was the first time he'd ever intentionally touched me. We'd bumped elbows or brushed up against each other in passing before, but he'd never reached out and touched me before. It was such a thrill.

He had to bend to bring his mouth to mine, he was so much taller than me. I closed my eyes as I saw him draw nearer. I was so afraid I was dreaming. And then his lips touched my lips. They were soft and warm and the sensation made my thumping heart stop for just a second. Maybe this was dangerous after all.

It wasn't an entirely chaste kiss, but it wasn't passionate either. It was an uncertain kiss, a questioning kiss. He drew back slightly. I opened my eyes. We were face to face, his dark eyes were searching mine, and he looked so unsure.

"That was very brave," I said. I kept my voice quiet, like he was a wild animal I was trying not to spook. "How's your heart?"

He lifted my hand and laid it on his chest over his heart. I could feel the strong thump against my palm. "Still beating. A little fast, though."

"Mine, too," I admitted. "I think that's normal."

He let go of my hand and reached out, moving in for another kiss. He touched my cheek gently. It was the lightest touch, telling me he was still unsure. But the second kiss was less hesitant. It lasted longer, and felt more relaxed. He lifted his mouth from mine again, but only for a second before he kissed me a third time. I felt his hand make real contact, sliding along my neck and into my hair to cradle the back of my head. His other hand found my waist and rested there lightly. I relaxed into the kiss, pleasure rippling through my whole body.

We kissed for a few long minutes. Our mouths parted and met repeatedly, finding different ways to fit together. I felt dizzy with pleasure and achy all over when he finally drew back. I throbbed inside for more. I wanted him to touch me, really touch me. I wanted his hands to touch me in all the places that longed for heat and pressure.

"Is this OK?"

I wasn't sure what he meant, but there was nothing about the situation that wasn't OK with me. I nodded and slid my hands up to his neck. I wanted to pull him to me, but I waited for him to decide. He did, and a moment later he was kissing me again, this time with no hesitation. We kissed for a long time. Long, slow kisses that gradually deepened as we each grew bolder. It became difficult to breathe, I was so turned on. I could feel my pulse everywhere. In my neck, my fingertips, between my legs.

When he drew back again, I was a little breathless. So much had happened in the last ten minutes my head was spinning. I'd been on my way out the door, and now I didn't want to leave ever again. It had been there all evening, his desire and uncertainty, and now that he'd voiced it, everything was different. So different, and so good.

"Is this real?" I could feel his hands on my waist and the ghost of his kiss on my mouth, but it didn't seem real. "I'm not dreaming."

He shook his head and let a slow smile creep across his face. "It's real. I can't believe it either, but it's real, Zoe." He slid the straps of my purse from my shoulder and put the bag on the counter without taking his eyes from mine. Then he slid both hands to my waist and pulled me closer. He kissed me again and I felt my knees go weak. Our kisses quickly became intense, almost needy kisses. I slipped one hand into his hair, thrilled by the softness of those curls I'd long admired, while the other hand clung to his neck. His hands were finding their way beneath the fabric of my tank top. His fingers spread out over my bare back. I knew I was sweaty, but I didn't even care.

We kissed until I couldn't breathe. I turned my face from his, and his mouth dropped to my neck. I let out a moan of desire that sounded so wrong in Rose's clean kitchen. I think the voicing of my arousal was what spurred us on at that point. He responded with a soft moan of his own and buried his face in my neck, pressing kisses from my ear to my collarbone. His hands worked their way higher and higher up my back, pushing the fabric of my shirt so it began to bunch up. The already hot room seemed stifling to me.

"Take it off," I gasped, drawing back from his body. I took my arms from around his neck and pulled my shirt up and off. He backed away slightly to give me room to do it, but then closed in again once the garment had been dropped to the floor. He wrapped his arms around me then, lifted me and turned in one motion, setting me down on the kitchen counter. We were closer to eye to eye this way. He reached behind him, his arm arcing over his head, and pulled his own shirt off his back in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor to join mine. It was an action that had no right being sexy, but it was.

"I'm glad I'm sitting down," I said, running my eyes over his now bare torso. Never once in my life had I found a man his size attractive, and while wasn't at all chiseled, he had muscles to go with his wide shoulders and big build. My friend JD tended to like his men on the beefy side. He had an athletic build himself, and had always been drawn to football players and guys who worked out, but personally, I'd never seen the appeal. I saw it now. And the shy, slightly uncertain smile Nico gave me just made him even sexier.

We resumed our kissing, now with our bodies pressed tight, skin on skin. He was hot and sweaty like me, and I could feel the thump of his heart as he crushed me against him. His hands roamed my back, eventually landing on the closure of my bra. I felt the elastic tighten and then go slack and released my hold on his neck to let him slip my bra down my arms. He sighed an appreciative sigh and dropped the bra on the floor. Then he bent and kissed me again, one hand straying to my breast, but only grazing the skin with fingertips. I shivered with pleasure and anticipation, then groaned against his mouth when his teasing fingers finally landed directly on my nipple. He drew back and looked down when I jumped, only half from pleasure.

"I'm sorry," he said. "My hands are so rough."

"It's OK," I said quickly. "Don't stop. Don't stop, it feels so good..."

I saw him smile slightly and then he traced my nipple with the back of a knuckle bumping the sensitive flesh as he circled it, making me jump again, this time entirely from pleasure. Then he worked a nipple between two fingers where his skin wasn't so worn, and when that made me whimper in pleasure, he gave my other nipple the same treatment using his other hand. It was an exquisite sensation of pressure and heat and friction, both my nipples trapped between his fingers.

He lifted his eyes and watched me, his expression somewhere between curiosity and amusement. He was clearly enjoying watching me moan and squirm under his touch, but it was clear, too, that it was turning him on as well, and gradually the curl at the corner of his lips lessened as his expression became more intense. I saw him swallow with effort and it was obvious how much he wanted me.

It was that look, almost more than his physical touch, that really affected me. Knowing his desire matched mine made my whole body ache for him. When he leaned toward me to kiss me again, I reached for his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist, simultaneously pulling him closer and pulling myself to the very edge of the counter. His hands moved from my breasts to my back and he pulled me tight against his body. The sensation of his damp, hot chest pressed against my bare breasts was almost more than I could take. I moved closer, as close as I could until my weight shifted and he had to slip his hands to my ass to catch me. I held on with my arms and my thighs and groaned against his mouth as the weight of my body pressed my sex against the rough front of his jeans.

He stepped back, his big hands spread out over my backside, supporting my weight, and broke the kiss. "Is this too fast?" His breathing was quick, and there was obvious conflict in his expression. I shook my head, but watched his face, wondering if he was actually asking the question of himself. It stood to reason, since he hadn't dated in the last 3 years, the last person he had sex with was his wife, and I guessed that had to be weighing on his mind.

"We can slow down," I said. I didn't want to slow down, but my respect for him trumped the need I had to have the ache between my legs soothed. I watched his face. His eyes darted back and forth for a few long seconds, searching mine. Then, his face relaxed and the smallest smile stretched his lips.

"Maybe just a little," he said. He turned and walked out the kitchen door, carrying me easily, the small smile on his face growing by the second.

I'd never been in his bedroom. It was the one room in the house I'd never been in. The door was always closed, and I'd always felt funny about going in even to put folded laundry on his bed, so I never had. But, of course, I'd been curious. Nico hit the light switch on his way in, turning on a small lamp on a small table by the bed. I glanced around before he sat me on the edge of the bed, noting there was barely enough room for the bed, a long chest of drawers, and another small bedside table. It was definitely the smallest bedroom in the house.

Nico lowered me all the way to the bed's surface and climbed on next to me. I rolled onto my side and reached for him, and for the next few minutes we kissed. They were long, luxurious kisses, and despite my desire to slip my hand down the front of his jeans, I relaxed into the sensations of his fingers in my hair, his soft lips on mine, the occasional scrape of his rough chin against my skin as he moved to kiss my neck or throat. It was a different kind of arousal than I'd felt earlier in the kitchen. Arousal mixed with contentment.

That's not to say I wasn't also extremely turned on. When his hands started to roam and his kisses grew more passionate, the throb of desire in my belly was immediately renewed. It only took his hand slipping under my skirt and sliding down my bare thigh to get my heart racing again. I rolled onto him and sat up. I sank down over his hips, letting my body come to rest on his, and leaned over to kiss him. His hands went to my breasts and I moaned and pressed myself against him, moving my hips in slow circles, gently grinding my pussy against the bulge in his jeans. His hands left my breasts and eventually found their way to the zipper of my skirt. He lowered it while we continued to kiss and then slid his hands under the fabric and into the material of my panties. The feeling of his hot hands spreading out over my bare ass was so exciting.