That’s all this is.
What happens after?
What if I fall harder than I already have?
What if I’m not strong enough to let him go?
I glance at the ring glinting on my finger. It sparkles like a promise… or maybe a countdown.
I don’t say any of this out loud. I just lean back against the seat, stare out the window, and wonder if maybe this fairy tale ends the same way they all do—when the clock strikes midnight, and the carriage turns back into a pumpkin.
Only this time, I might not survive the fall.
Inverness is a treasure trove of wonder, a perfect blend of rugged history and breathtaking natural beauty. As Nate and I wander through its charming streets and wild corners, I feel like we’ve stepped into a time capsule, where every moment slows down just enough to etch itself into my memory.
We start at the Botanical Gardens, where the vibrant bursts of color and the delicate fragrance of rare flowers wrap around us like a spell. Nate picks a tiny purple bloom and tucks it behind my ear with a grin. “You’re prettier than any of these,” he says, and I believe him—not because I am, but because the sincerity in his eyes convinces me I am in his world.
From there, we explore the ruins of Urquhart Castle, the wind teasing my hair and the lake shimmering in the background. Nate holds my hand as we walk along the worn stone walls, pausing to read old plaques and imagine the stories of the people who once lived there. He lifts me up onto one of the ledges so I can get a better view of Loch Ness, and I swear I see something ripple across the water.
“You think she’s real?” he asks, nudging me with his shoulder.
“I want her to be,” I smile like a kid. “It’s more fun to believe.”
Later, we board a loch cruise, and the chill in the air is nothing compared to the warmth of Nate’s arm wrapped around me. The boat gently rocks as we sip hot chocolate and pretend we’re on a Nessie hunt, pointing out every odd shadow or floating branch as if it were her. We laugh like we used to, like nothing and no one could ever get between us again.
Being with him like this, adventuring and dreaming, feels like stepping into a memory we never had. We're two explorers, digging up forgotten feelings, unlocking the drawers of childhood we’d kept shut for years. With every shared glance, every playful push, every kiss stolen under the Scottish sky, I fall harder.
By the time we get back to the cabin, the sun has long gone and the twilight is fading into darkness. I’m still buzzing with energy as I place the bags of other groceries we bought on our way back on the counter, eager to cook something simple and cozy for us. After all, he did cook me breakfast.
But before I can even peel a carrot, I feel his strong arms wrap around my waist from behind.
“Can we order dinner, please?” he mumbles into my neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin. “We’re here on vacation. No cooking allowed.”
I giggle, the vibrations of his voice stirring something deep in my belly. “I wanted to cook you something delicious.”
“You are delicious,” he murmurs, his teeth gently grazing my shoulder. The shiver that runs down my spine is immediate and intense. His hands slide under my tank top, exploring with a softness that borders on reverent.
“Chinese? Italian? Indian?” he continues, peppering my neck with kisses. “Whatever you want.”
“I want you,” I whisper, the words falling from my lips before my mind can catch up.
He freezes for a beat, his breath catching, and when he turns me around, his eyes are full of heat, tenderness, and something unspoken—something that makes my chest tighten.
“Izzy…”
I don’t give him the chance to talk myself out of it. I kiss him, silencing everything—doubts, thoughts, fears. It’s just us now, and I need this. I need him.
His hands roam freely, lifting my shirt as our bodies press together. He tastes me like I’m his last meal, sucking my nipples until I moan, my body arching into his touch. When he lifts me and carries me to the bedroom, there’s a quiet urgency in his steps—like he’s been waiting for this as long as I have.
He places me on the bed, and I peel off his shirt, kissing the hard lines of his chest, tracing his skin with my tongue and fingertips. My hands fumble at his belt, and when I finally free him from his jeans, he stands before me—raw, aroused, and beautiful.
I lick his shaft before taking him in my mouth slowly, savoring every inch, every twitch, every delicious sound he makes.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, tangling his hands in my hair. I let him guide me, let him feel, let myself feel. It’s intimate in a way I never expected—intense, deep, consuming.
But Nate doesn’t let it go too far. With a growl, he pulls out, his eyes dark with desire as he strips me of my jeans and panties in a single, fluid motion. He settles between my thighs and kisses his way up, his tongue teasing, worshipping. When he finally reaches my centre, I cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation, the way his tongue moves with purpose. He devours me like he owns me—like I’m his favorite addiction.
I’m still shaking when he climbs up my body, kissing every inch along the way—my stomach, my breasts, my neck, and finally, my lips. His cock teases my entrance, brushing against my clit and driving me insane.
