“You and me both, sir.”
I don’t wait any longer. My legs are beginning to tremble again like I’m some sort of sex-crazed harlot who can’t go minutes without feeling Nate on or inside me.
I grab hold of the base of his cock and climb on top. I lower myself inch by delicious inch, moaning as my body adjusts to his and takes him in. When I’ve reached the hilt, I sit still for a moment and allow myself to appreciate the feeling of having him inside me. I start rocking my hips back and forth, watching as Nate’s eyes slam shut and he bites his bottom lip. His fingers bite into my skin to the point where it’s almost painful. A part of me that’s never reared its head before hopes he leaves a mark.
I start to move faster, rising up and down to an almost punishing pace. Our groans blend together, our breathing growing heavier by the second.
“Fuck, Nate!” I throw my head back, never losing a beat. “How does this feel so good?”
I thought this round was going to be only for him, that there was no possible way my body could produce another orgasm, but as the familiar pressure builds, I know I was very, very wrong.
“Christ, Colls.” He groans, his voice so deep and raspy, it’s almost tangible. His grip on my hips tightens and he flips me onto my back. I almost protest, but he grabs both of my hands in one of his and holds them over my head, slamming into me and effectively erasing every thought in my head. “So fucking good.”
I pry my eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second of watching Nate finally lose control. Sweat drips from his forehead and the lines on his face deepen. He never slows down, his thrusts are somehow powerful, tender, and relentless, and as much as I want to watch him fall apart, my eyes slam shut as I start to come . . . again.
My vision turns white behind my eyelids and I wrap my legs around him, needing to hold on as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me. I’m not normally loud in bed, so my screams and groans take me by surprise.
Through my fog, I notice he’s released his grip on my wrists. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine, holding on tight. He begins to shake over me and I swallow his groans as he finds his release and collapses on top of me. His weight is like a warm blanket I never want to climb out of.
“Wow.” He breathes into my neck. His lips graze the sensitive skin I love to be kissed and his fingers play with the loose curls that escaped my ponytail. “That was . . .”
His sentence trails off, but I know what he means. There are no words for what just happened between us.
My hands glide up and down his sweat-slicked back. “Yeah, it was.”
I’ve been with enough people in my life to know chemistry like this doesn’t just happen. Tonight was special. Even though I know there’s a ninety-nine percent chance I’ll regret this in the light of day, right here and right now? I’ve never been happier.
Chapter 18
There’s a reason there are no windows in nightclubs and casinos. Everything that looks so sparkly and shiny loses some of its magic beneath the light of day.
It’s a mistake I’ve made multiple times.
You know, the guy who seemed really nice disappears without a trace before you wake up, or the hot guy you swore you were going to marry transforms into his true, douchebag form with the rising sun.
And considering my not-so-wonderful history with Nate, I fully expected the same outcome when I made the decision to lie down for just a minute after round two instead of immediately running home and trying to rid my mind of the terrible, awful, mind-blowing, amazing night with him.
I was hoping for it, honestly.
Because if Nathanial Adams isn’t an asshole and his skills in bed are what ruin me for all other men, I will never forgive him.
Nate’s quiet breathing is the only noise in his room other than the gentle hum of the air conditioner, and part of me is shocked I’m awake before him. He seems like the type of human who sets his alarm for four a.m. I peel my eyes open and the bright sunlight peeking through the small crack of his curtains immediately sets my nerves on edge. It was going to be hard to sneak back home in the shadows of night, but during the day? I’m going to have to climb fences and hide behind bushes to get home unnoticed.
If a Karen catches even a glimpse of me traipsing out of Nate’s house before coffee, the entire neighborhood—including Ashleigh and my parents—will hear all their salacious theories of what went down. And on the list of shit I don’t need right now, the neighborhood gossiping about my sex life is at the very top.
I try to climb out of his bed without disturbing him, and my body groans with reminders of all the muscles we put to work last night. I know I came over here thinking this would be a onetime thing, but I quickly begin to think of the countless benefits of doing this until I leave Ohio. If we keep this up, I’m definitely going to have to pull out my old yoga mat or at least start joining my mom on the evening walks she keeps inviting me on.
I scurry around the room trying to find all the pieces of clothing he tossed about last night. Of course, during this search, not only do I not find my underwear, but I also notice that somehow his room seems even more magnificent than it did last night. I need to leave, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to inspect the black-and-white prints on his wall without him watching.
Some images I recognize right away. A young Nate smiling up at his grandparents, a cow standing by, with their sprawling farm in the background. An eight-by-ten blueprint of Great American Ball Park, the home of his favorite Cincinnati Reds, is set in a brass frame. The crinkled picture of him with his mom and dad, the only one he ever had, sits behind glass, and my heart constricts for the little boy who yearned for his family more than anything. There are new photos, too, some with people I recognize, like Nate’s dad, who looks exactly the same, just a little older, and others with people I don’t know. The stark contrast between the before and after, so evident, set out in front of me.
But it’s when I get to the end of the wall that the floor falls from beneath my feet.
There in the corner is a four-by-six picture of Nate and me. He’s in his old baseball uniform, the one that changed how I looked at him, and I’m wearing jean shorts and a tank top. He has eye black smeared across his cheeks and his gigantic smile takes over his entire face. I’m sticking my tongue out and on my tiptoes holding bunny ears behind his baseball hat. We both look so young.
So happy.
We spent so many days at the baseball field that I can’t even remember when this was taken, but here it is. Proof of the love we had for each other. Framed and preserved on Nate’s bedroom wall.
I give up my search for my stupid underwear and haul ass out of there. It was already going to be weird talking to him the morning after; seeing this is too much. I didn’t realize how many feelings were tied up between us and I know I’m not emotionally stable enough to decipher it so soon.
I tiptoe out of his room and down the stairs, flinching when the old wood creaks beneath my feet. In a stroke of luck I’m not used to having, I see my T-shirt dangling on the back of a chair the second I make it to his foyer. I pull it over my head, ignoring the still-damp fabric, and beeline for his back door. I flip the lock at the same time I hear footsteps hit the ground above me. I pause for a millisecond, wondering if maybe I should stay and talk things out over coffee. But instead of being an adult, I do what I always do.