Wherever You Will Go

By: Stephanie Smith

Book 1 in the Try Again Series

Standing in my en-suite, I brush my long dark hair into waves down my back. My eyes linger on the tall figure leaning in the doorway, his shoulder up against the frame, strong arms resting across a broad chest. I run my gaze from the top of his shaggy blond hair to his pale blue eyes. My stare continues, losing myself in his long legs covered in striped pyjama pants, and then on to enjoy one of my favourite body parts: his perfectly sculpted feet. Who knew bare feet could be so sexy? If only he didn’t have issues with his feet being touched I would …

“Don’t even think about it, Brooke.” I am pulled out of my most perfect thoughts and brought back to those piercing baby blues. Nate is looking at me with a smug smile on his face as he pushes off the door and saunters over to me like he has all the time and not a care in the world.

“Think about what?” I ask shyly, trying to hide my smile.

“Whatever you were thinking about doing to my feet. You know I can’t be held responsible for what happens if you touch them,” he smiles a cocky grin.

“Just remember how bad you felt last time when you kicked me in the face.” I give him a mock glare. Nate’s cocky grin turns into a wide smile, showing near perfect white teeth. He starts laughing as he turns me back to face the mirror and goes to stand behind me.

He pulls my hair across and over the front of one shoulder as he trails his lips across my shoulder blades. “I think I more than made up for it if I remember correctly.” I feel his smile against my skin as he presses slow deliberate kisses down my spine.

The tickling sensation and the roaming hands distract me, delicately tracing back and forth along my stomach and up and down my hips, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. Nate palms both breasts and begins cupping their fullness and squeezing them tenderly. My eyes meet his cheeky grin in the mirror, and I laugh at his mischievous smile. “You’ve always been a boob man, haven’t you?”

“Not until I met you. I’d never seen such beautiful big tits before.”

I relish the compliment and agree my breasts are my best feature. Unfortunately though, to enjoy them I have to accept the wide hips, flabby tummy, and big ass. It could be worse, I could have a huge ass without the perk of a big rack. Standing there, I scrutinize every dimple, mark, and stretch mark, remembering our other recent conversation about breasts, not as enjoyable as this one.

“How was Claire last night with all the talk about boobs after having kids? Awkward much?” I turn up my nose in disgust.

Nate laughs. “I know, I can’t believe Jeremy just sat there and let her go on, and then decided to add his side with all that talk about how much it’s affected him,” he says in distaste, moving his hands back to my stomach.

I gasp, forgetting all about that bit. “I know, right? What a pig. I would be devastated if you spoke about me like that after I’d just pushed your kid the size of a watermelon out of my vagina and then let it hang off my tits for nine months.”

Nate abruptly releases his hold and bends over, his hands slapping his knees.

“Babe, are you all right?” Concern laces my tone.

Nate’s shoulders shaking, I bend down to meet his face and see it’s all scrunched up in what looks like agony. “What the?” I whisper as Nate stands up straighter but holds his belly and suddenly lets out a loud laugh. I look at him, confused, trying to remember if I said anything funny, and it suddenly occurs to me that he is laughing at me. I move my weight onto one foot as I place my hands on my hips and give him a pointed look. “Are you for real? I was trying to have a serious conversation.”

Nate is laughing as he struggles to catch a breath. “Oh, babe, just say it like it is.”

Glaring at him, I pout like a spoiled child. Nate ends up laughing more, and I decide I’ve seen enough. I begin to stomp out of the en-suite, but as I pass him he quickly sobers and turns to grab me. He pulls me back to face the mirror and locks me in place with his strong arms that go around my waist and rest on my tummy, holding my arms by my side.

While trying not to laugh more, Nate gives me his gorgeous wide smile. “Babe, I’m sorry. I can’t help it; you’re just too damn cute."

Forcing a frown, I meet his eyes in the mirror, and he responds with a grin.

“I think we need to find new friends,” I mumble.

“Hey! They’re not my friends,” Nate states, as if I’ve offended him by just suggesting it.

“Well, when you’ve been hanging out with people for ten years, they’re your friends, too.” I give him a cheeky smile. “Besides, if all your friends weren’t overgrown men trying to act like college students still, maybe we could hang out with them more often.”

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