I’m still floating when the words slip out, dazed and breathless. “Did I just…come on your mouth?”
His grin is half smug, half tender. “Oh yeah, baby. You came hard. Fast. And you sang so good for me.”
For a second, I stare at him, stunned. Years of trying with Josh and never even getting close—and Nate Russo undid me in under ten minutes.
I tug him down into a kiss, tasting myself on his lips, sliding my hand over the thick ridge straining his shorts. “Can we…keep going?”
He chuckles into my mouth, the sound dark and wicked. “We will. Just not today.”
My heart dips. “Why not?” The words spill before I canstop them, the insecure part of me clawing back. Am I not enough?
His answer is a slow, devastating kiss, deep enough to wipe out every doubt. “Don’t pout, Trouble. It’s making this harder.” His teeth nip my lip, softening it with another kiss. “I’m not rushing this. Not with you.”
“But—”
“E.” His voice is low, reverent, and it stills me. His mouth brushes across my breast, hot and slow, before he lifts his gaze back to mine. “You have no idea, do you? I’ve wanted you since before I even knew what that meant. The last two summers on Fire Island…pure torture. Watching you grow up, not being allowed to touch you.”
His thumb strokes lazily along the underside of my breast, gaze locked on mine, dark and confessional. “I’ve dreamed about this—about you—for years. And now that I finally have you in front of me?” He shakes his head slowly. “I’m not screwing it up by moving too fast. I want to savor every second. Make it so when we get there, you never forget it.”
Slow. I should hate that word. But with his obsession laid bare and the ghost of his mouth still pulsing through me, I realize…maybe slow isn’t so bad.
19
TROUBLE IN MY BED (NATE)
The silence stretches between us, both of us breathing hard. Eden’s sprawled on the mat looking dazed—flushed and beautiful and completely wrecked.
Mine.
The thought hits with surprising force. Settles.
She hasn’t quite found her bearings yet, caught between the aftershock of what just happened and the reality that we’re here, like this, after all these years.
I don’t give her time to overthink it. One smooth motion, and I’ve got an arm under her knees, the other around her back.
She makes a small, startled sound, fingers curling into my shoulders. “Hey?—”
“Relax, Trouble.” My voice is easy, but I don’t slow my pace toward the stairs. “Can’t send you home in this state. You’d be uncomfortable all the way back to the city.”
Her brows lift, but there’s a flicker—color blooming in her cheeks. “Who would’ve thought Nate Russo would be the guy to ruin a girl’s underwear?”
A low rumble works its way out of me. “Get used to that, Trouble.”
She tries for nonchalance. “Are you taking me to your lair, big guy?” The words are light, but her body tells a different story—tense for a heartbeat before she exhales and lets herself sink into my hold.
But I don’t stop in the bedroom. I keep going, her scent filling my head—warm skin and faint shampoo—her hair trailing over my forearm.
The bathroom opens up in front of us—marble, glass, soft lighting. She blinks, taking it in, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Fancy. Not bad for a boy who used to peddle magic tricks for tips.”
My mouth curves. “Yeah, well...the tips got better.”
I set her on the wide ledge beside the tub, her knees brushing mine for a beat too long. Flipping the tap, I let the rush of warm water fill the space, steam curling between us.
Her brows knit. “I’ll clean up at home.”
I take my time looking at her—cheeks flushed, hair tangled, lips swollen from the way I kissed her. She’s sitting with a straight spine, trying to be unaffected, but her fingers curl against the ledge as if needing to hold on to something solid.
“You’re a mess,” I murmur, leaning in until my mouth is close enough to catch the little hitch in her inhale. “My mess.” Taking care of her feels as natural as breathing. This is what I was always meant to do. But I can see her mind working, already building defenses.
