Free Fall Ch. 02

We were seated outside under an canopy of maple boughs strung with white lights. It was busy and the small tables were close together, but somehow I felt like we were alone in the world once we sat down. I also felt—much to my surprise—butterflies in my stomach. I noticed Nico looked more relaxed than he had earlier.

"Now I feel nervous," I said. I decided to be honest, since he had when he'd admitted nervousness picking me up. "I don't know why; I feel like I've known you forever."

"Same here. But, technically this is our first date. Our first one without kids, anyway."

"It's auspicious," I said, nodding. "I'm entirely too aware of—everything. Am I sitting up straight? Should I cross my legs? Where do I put my hands?"

It didn't help that I'd noticed several women checking him out when we'd made our way to our table. I wasn't threatened, but they'd been closer to his age, making me painfully aware of mine. I felt inexperienced and awkward like I never had before with him.

"You're perfect, Zoe." He laughed gently and smiled, putting me at ease just a little. "Let's order some wine, maybe that will help you relax."

It did help, even before the drinks came I was feeling a little less self-conscious. I got a glass of wine, but encouraged him to get a beer, knowing that was his preference, and we began to ease into a more natural exchange. It didn't take long before our conversation was just a continuation of the conversation we'd had the previous week. It had no agenda, no predetermined direction; we just shared whatever came into our minds, and we went with the flow of it, enjoying each others' observations and ideas. At times it felt like hanging out with JD—easy and fun, without any pressure of trying to impress—but then I'd look into his eyes and feel everything inside me go soft and hot and remember I was on a date. And this was Nico. I was on a date with Nico.

"Tell me something about yourself I don't know," I said. We were halfway through the meal, completely at ease with each other, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. We'd been flirting a little, and teasing a lot, and I could feel the familiar buzz of excitement building in my belly. "Something I wouldn't guess."

"Oh wow. Something you wouldn't guess." He looked off into the distance, thinking, and I enjoyed a tour of his handsome face. Those cheekbones. That jaw. And the new way his curls fell against his forehead since he'd gotten it trimmed. So attractive. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I didn't. I just waited.

"I really like to be naked," he said finally. "Like, all the time if I could."

I hadn't been expecting that. "You're a nudist?"

"I...don't think so... No." He was genuinely thinking about it. "I don't want to see other people naked. Present company excluded, of course. I just like...I don't know. I just like how it feels." He laughed, but he didn't seem embarrassed. "I wouldn't want to go to a nude beach, you know, but if I could just be naked in my own home all the time, I would. It feels good." I must have looked shocked, because he laughed again when his eyes met mine again. "What? It's not that weird...is it?"

"I honestly don't know."

"You don't like being naked?"

"I...um...I don't know. I don't think I've ever just hung out naked before." I felt myself blushing. "I grew up with two older brothers, and I had roommates in college, and I can't exactly go naked at my grandparents', so maybe I've never had a chance to try it out."

"Mmm well, maybe we can try it out later." He grinned, and I blushed even more. "OK, your turn. Tell me something I wouldn't guess."

"Ummm." I realized I didn't have a ready answer, so I had to think, too. It took me a while and I was pretty sure Nico was studying my face while he waited, like I had when he'd been considering the question. He had longer to study me, though, because I couldn't think of a single thing about me that was interesting enough to share. I was beginning to think all I'd ever done was study and get good grades.

"Oh—I used to ride in equestrian competitions," I said excitedly when I remembered.

"Hmm. No..." He shook his head slowly, grinning at me. "No...I would have guessed that."

"What?"

"Totally. I'm guessing English riding, not dressage." He laughed when my face fell. "I do have a little girl, you know. I've had the crash course in all things horsie."

"Oh man. Well, I won some trophies. I was actually really good at it."

"Nope. That's a given, Zoe. You're really good at everything. Try again. Maybe something you're afraid of, although I can't even imagine that."

"OK. Umm." I thought for a while and felt him still watching me. "Something I'm afraid of...how about this: I've never been camping."

"You're afraid of camping?" He laughed openly. "Oh, God, sorry, I'm laughing at your secret fear. That's really awful of me." He didn't stop laughing, though.

I laughed, too. "Not camping. I'm not afraid of camping."

"Sleeping bags? Tents? You have tentophobia?"

"That's not even a real phobia," I said. "I just don't like...camping. I don't like being outside when it's dark."

"So you're afraid of the dark? Ohhh." He was enjoying himself.

"No," I protested. "Well, OK, kind of. I mean, I get scared outside in the dark. It's totally irrational. I'm fine indoors. And not in the city—I mean, as long as there are streetlights I don't get scared—but the idea of pitching a tent in the woods and sleeping there...at night." I shivered, honestly unsettled.

"For real?" He was in genuine disbelief. "OK. That's—yeah. I would not have guessed that," he said, still chuckling.

He continued to tease me a little longer, until we'd finished eating, and I loved every minute of it. He asked if I wanted dessert, and though I'd read the restaurant's crème brulee was excellent, I declined. I was feeling a little full, though I suspected it had more to do with arousal and that full-chested feeling of excitement than the size of the meal I'd just eaten.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" I asked, after our waitress—who I noticed, every time she came to our table, couldn't take her eyes off of Nico—brought us the check.

He slid his credit card into the folder after looking the bill over briefly, and laid it on the table, then sighed dramatically. "I don't know, Zoe. I did have a naked camping trip planned for us, but I guess that's not going to happen now, is it?" The look he gave me was so serious, so disappointed, I cracked up. Loud and un-ladylike enough I had to cover my mouth with my hand. "To be honest, I thought you were braver than that."

"I'm sorry," I said, still laughing because his face hadn't changed. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Maybe I can come up with something else we can do."

"Something as good as naked camping? Somehow, I doubt that."

The waitress arrived and took the payment folder while Nico stared at me, still maintaining his stony stare. I couldn't keep from laughing, a giddiness was rising up in me, knowing where this evening was headed. Knowing we had the whole night together. Knowing, without a doubt, that it would be even better than the previous Friday night—we had the benefit of time on our side.

"Well, I can try," I said. "I'll do my best."

We left the restaurant, his hand light on my waist as we walked to the truck. He opened my door and waited while I climbed in, then gently closed the door. His eyes met mine briefly as the door shut, giving me an unexpected thrill.

"Where are we staying tonight?" I asked as he drove up the hill, headed out of town.

"Not too far away. It's a nice place—I hope you think it's nice, anyway. It's still under construction, but I got us a really nice room."

I liked the sound of a 'really nice room', although I couldn't imagine what kind of place he'd take me to that was under construction. I didn't ask; I trusted his choices. After all, he'd made a great choice with the restaurant.

It took me longer than it should have to figure it out. He pulled onto a residential street where the houses were far apart, with swaths of uncultivated, woodsy land in between, so I guessed we were headed to one of the many B&B's out this direction. He turned the truck into a gravel driveway and drove up a slight incline, his headlights cutting across the front face of a big white house. I was still looking for a sign when I realized where he'd brought me.

"Oh my God, this is—is this your house?"

He pulled up to the end of the drive and turned off the engine. He left the headlights on, and we both peered out the window for a second at what we could see in the darkness. It was square, two stories, with dark shutters and tall windows. I made out some trees and bushes and another small white building a short distance away. I had a million questions, but I waited.

"It is," he said. "Is that alright? For tonight?"

"Yes. Absolutely." I'd been dying to see the house he was building since I'd heard about it. I unfastened my seat belt, eager to go inside. "Can we go in?"

Nico reached out and put his hand on mine. "It's dark out there," he said seriously. "You sure you want to go out?"

I laughed. "Is this going to be a thing, now?"

He shut off the lights and pulled his key from the ignition. It got dark. Pitch black, actually.

"Stay there," he said. "I'll come get you."

I could just barely see his face in the darkness as he came to my side of the truck. He opened my door and reached behind me to get my overnight bag. He took my hand and then stepped back, giving me room to get out. My eyes were adjusting little by little, but it was really dark out, and if I had to be perfectly honest, it creeped me out as we started across the yard. But I wasn't going to tell him that.

I let him lead me through the darkness toward the house. I saw the dark mouth of an entrance, a porch, I thought, and Nico warned me when we got to the steps. "Three steps up," he said. I found the steps with my feet, and in a few seconds was following him across a wooden porch floor.

"I have to let go of your hand to unlock the door," he warned. "I'll be right here. OK?"

He gently released my hand. I heard the jingle of his keys, then the solid sound of a bolt turning in a door. We stepped through and he closed the door behind us, turning the bolt again to lock it. He fumbled for a light switch and flicked it, turning on a dim light outside, a porch light.

"If I'd known you were such a scaredy cat, I would have left that on for you," he said.

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Never." He bent and kissed me once on the lips and smiled. "You were very brave, sweetheart."

He turned then, and switched on another light, illuminating the room we'd entered.

"The kitchen," he said simply. "It's almost done. I tried to get the tiles finished before tonight, but I ran out of time."

"Oh Nico, it's beautiful."

I walked into the center of the room and did a slow 360 degree turn, taking it all in. It smelled like old wood and new paint. It was mostly empty, and felt like an empty house. My footsteps echoed a little as I moved around the room.

The kitchen was big, with a wide window on the outer wall above a white double sink. There were glass-fronted wooden cupboards painted white—the majority of them were empty—that reached up to a high ceiling. The floors were wide wooden planks, worn in some places, but they were clean and, when I walked across them, they creaked, reminding me pleasantly of the floors at my grandparents' house. I could easily imagine how to room would look with the sun streaming in through the big windows, making the whole room glow.

Over the counters and extending all the way around the kitchen was a border of blue and white tiles, alternating between plain and printed. I saw a stack of tiles in the corner, and realized these were the tiles he said he hadn't had time to finish. I knew he had done a lot of the work himself, and I thought of a hundred questions I had, but I wanted to see more, too.

"It's beautiful" I said. I stepped up to him, slid my hand into his, and smiled up at him. "Show me the whole house."

He gave me a tour through the first floor, switching on lights as we moved through the rooms—a small dining room, a den or study, a tiny half bathroom, and a spacious living room. Some looked completely finished, but some were less complete, housing pieces of dry wall and boxes. The living room had a huge stone fireplace, which I guessed had to have been a selling point when he'd first looked at the house.

I let him talk and just listened. I knew nothing about houses, so much of the minute details he shared were lost on me, but I enjoyed seeing his enthusiasm and trying to imagine what he saw when he talked about knocking down this wall or moving that one out a couple of feet. He obviously loved the house and had put a lot of work into it already. As much as I hated thinking of him and Lena here alone, I knew it was a special place to him.

I followed him upstairs to the bedrooms, enjoying the creak of the stairs beneath our feet. He took me through the two smaller rooms first. They were all finished, freshly painted with bare wooden floors. The first room was empty except for some cardboard boxes neatly stacked in a corner.

"My office," he said. "Not that I really need an office, but we don't need three bedrooms. And I have a desk, but not an extra bed, so...office."

The second room was painted pink. Very pink. There was a small bed along one wall, with a fancy headboard. It was bare, but had a pile of sheets and blankets on top of it. Across the room was a matching white dresser and vanity set, painted with pink roses.

"Yours, I assume," I said when we entered the room. "I always pictured you doing your hair at a vanity like that."

"Takes a long time to look this good."

He stepped into the room and looked around. "I let Lena pick the color. I had to talk her down a couple of shades, but I'm pretty sure this is the pinkest room in the county."

"You're such a good dad," I said. "I always wanted a pink room, too."

"Never got one?"

"My parents are strictly beige wall people. I think this would give my dad a nervous breakdown."

"I figure we can always paint over it," he said shrugging. "It's worth it if she loves it."

The bathroom was tiny, but very clean. There was a huge white claw footed tub along one wall that immediately drew my eye. I noticed a pile of folded white towels on a small shelf and had a ridiculous thrill at the idea that he'd put them out in anticipation of me staying the night.

The last bedroom, opposite the bathroom, was Nico's and I was pleased to see it was much bigger than the room he currently had at Rose's. It was the only room that felt done. At least, it had a neatly made bed, a wide dresser, a big wooden trunk with quilts piled on top of it, and a set of bookshelves with some disorganized books. It wasn't complete, that was obvious, the windows were bare, and the closet was empty except for half a dozen moving boxes in the bottom, and the bookcase looked more like a prop than someone's library, but as Nico turned on the lamps on the side table and dresser, and turned off the overhead light, it transformed into a warm and cozy space.

"I hope this is OK." He set my overnight bag down on the floor next to a dresser.

"It's perfect, Nico. Thank you for bringing me here. I've been dying to see your house for so long."

"I almost booked a room somewhere," he said. "There's a nice inn up on the ridge, I passed it a hundred times when I was working up that direction in June. It's cute, but I thought...you know, it's small. And this time of year they're probably busy, so..." I moved toward him, drawn by the uncertainty in his voice. "I don't know maybe this is selfish, but I just wanted to be alone with you."

"That's what I want, too," I said. I moved into his arm's reach and he drew me to him. "I just want to be with you."

He smiled and pulled me closer. My arms went to his neck automatically and soon we were kissing, our bodies pressed tight. We picked up where we'd left off on Monday, in Rose's kitchen before the kids interrupted, skipping right over the tentative kisses for deep kisses that made my knees weak. It felt new and familiar at the same time, exciting and comfortable.

There wasn't a trace of hesitation in the way his mouth moved over mine, and I felt the power in his body as he held me while one hand roamed over my side and down my hip. He was more assertive than he'd ever been before and it was incredibly exciting.

He broke the kiss after a while, bending to drop his mouth to kiss my neck. He turned my head gently, bringing my bare throat to his mouth, and I let out a moan as he kissed me there, his mouth and tongue hot against my skin. I felt the touch lower, directly on my nipple and realized his hand had moved and his thumb was massaging the hard nub of my nipple through my dress. That made me groan, half in pleasure and half in recognition of how exciting he was.

He lifted his head to look at me while his thumb made purposeful circles. I groaned again and he smiled a half smile. "I love that sound," he breathed. He shifted his hand and used the tip of his finger to manipulate my nipple, even though the layers of fabric—the lace and silk of my dress and the cotton of my bra—it was a precise touch and it only took a second or two for him to draw another groan from me. "Mmmm," he said. "That's the one."

He drew his hand away and slid it down my side.

"This looks like an expensive dress," he said. "I'd hate to ruin it. Should we take it off?"

I nodded and moved to reach behind me, but he stopped me and pressed his mouth to my cheek. "Let me do it," he said. His voice was low and full of desire. "I'll be careful."

He walked around me, planting soft kisses across my shoulder and neck as he did. I felt his hands at the top closure and then he found the tiny zipper and drew it down with agonizing slowness. It moved silently, but every with every inch I heard the beating of my heart get louder and louder in my ears. He dragged it down my spine, dipping in at my waist, and then ending right at the top of my ass. Then his hands slid up my back, moving the fabric away as he worked his way high again, up to my shoulders.

He slid the fabric off one shoulder, then the other and I slid my arms from the arm holes, letting the dress hang at my waist. His hands came around and cupped my breasts lightly. I leaned back against him automatically and he pressed his mouth to my ear. His fingers found my nipples and worked them gently, applying just enough pressure to make me squirm.

His hands flexed, curling over the flesh of my breasts, increasing the pressure on my nipples. I sighed and pressed back against him a little more. He lifted his hands and then reached up and dragged the thin cotton fabric of my bra down, baring my breasts.

"Ohh," he breathed. "You really do have the most perfect little breasts." I stared down, at my pale breasts and hard, pink nipples and Nico's big hands waiting.

"Not too small?"

"Are you kidding? They're perfect, just enough to fill my hands. And look how hard your nipples are." He moved his hands so my nipples touched the very center of his palms, and with small, precise movements, and no part of his hand touching the flesh of my breast, he rocked the rubbery peaks back and forth.

I groaned and pushed back against his body. I could barely stand it—such a precise and perfect pleasure. He responded by tightening his core, giving me something to push against, while still manipulating my nipples with agonizing slowness.

"You're so sexy," he said into my ear. He closed his hands, trapping my nipples under his palms, and kneaded my breasts. "I find the fact that you get aroused so quickly incredibly exciting. I feel like I could make you come just by touching you like that."