“I want you in my bed.”
He didn’t murmur it—he announced it. A bold and unapologetic claim. The words hit some switch I didn’t know was still wired, sending a rush of want so fierce, it terrifies me. Because under it is the fear I’ve carried for years—that when the clothes come off, I’ll freeze. That he’ll see what Josh saw. That he’ll realize I’m not enough.
I should shove the thought away, bury it. I’ve done it with every man that has shown interest in me since Josh. But all I can see is Nate’s mouth on mine, the way his body fit against me, the way he made me feel.
I hate him for making me want to find out. I hate myself for trembling with the need to try.
I force myself to move. Tie my hair back into a bun. Clean the room. Reset the table. Pretend nothing happened.My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop the sanitizer bottle. Patients come and go, and I plaster on a smile, guiding stretches, adjusting positions, answering questions on autopilot. On the surface, I’m steady. Inside, I’m chaos.
Every time I blink, I feel him again—his mouth, his hands, the way his eyes burned into me when he said he’d show me.
I want to scream. I want to kiss him again. I want to crawl under the treatment table and stay there until the world stops spinning.
“Eden?”
Monica’s voice pulls me out of my spiral. She’s standing at the front desk with her usual calm smile.
“Yeah?” My voice sounds too thin.
She clicks on the clinic’s calendar on the screen. “Quick update. Nate Russo’s next session was rescheduled. It’s now tomorrow at two o’clock in the afternoon, instead of at eight in the morning. They want it at his house. I already adjusted your schedule so you’re done after that—less running around for you.”
“At his house?”
“Yes. His team said it’s better for his recovery routine.” She looks back at her monitor as if she merely informed me of the weather.
I manage a nod, though my heart is thundering. Two o’clock. At his house. No other patients after. He planned this. My hands tremble as I grab my phone.
Eden
I know what you’re doing.
The reply comesten seconds later.
Nate
Good.
Another ping.
Nate
Also, this way, you don’t have to take the train before sunrise.
My heart trips over itself. He would turn his trap into an act of kindness.
Eden
That’s not why you did it.
Nate
No. But it’s a nice bonus, isn’t it?
I won’t pretend I’m not selfish. I want you here. My bed is here.
I’ll be good for the session. After that—it’s your call, Trouble.
Well that’s blunt. Before I can fully process it, Melissa steps out of her office, beaming. “Eden, got a sec?”
