“Nate,” I whisper, desperate. “I want you.”
When he slides into me, I feel everything—every beat of his heart, every breath, every whispered moan. He fills me completely, moving with a rhythm that sets my soul on fire.
“So fucking tight,” he groans, pulling my leg around his waist, deepening our connection.
We move together like we’ve done this a thousand times, like our bodies were always meant to find each other again. The climax crashes through me like a wave, powerful and all-consuming, and I scream his name as I come undone beneath him.
Even then, Nate doesn’t let go. He holds me, kisses me, murmurs sweet nothings as we drift together in the aftermath. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, soothing me. Loving me.
And in that quiet moment, I know—I'm not just falling for him.
I belong to him.
After what feels like a lifetime wrapped in each other’s arms, we finally pull ourselves out of bed, muscles sore but hearts light, laughter still echoing in the air like the last notes of a love song. The room carries the sweet, lingering scent of sex and sweat, but the growl of my stomach reminds us it’s time to feed more than just our desire.
We end up ordering Chinese—because it’s easy, warm, and comforting. We settle on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, our bare legs tangled as the containers spread out between us on the coffee table. The cabin lights are dimmed, casting a golden glow around us, like the world itself is trying to slow down for this moment.
“I want to know everything about you,” I say softly, popping a shrimp into my mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
Nate leans back, his fingers absently brushing over my thigh, tracing circles that still make me shiver. “There isn’t much to know,” he replies, handing me a box of veggies. “When I was fourteen, I was sent to military college. From there, it was one mission after the other. Orders, deployments, training. That was my life.”
I watch his expression shift—stoic, like muscle memory—but there's a glimmer of vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see. I rest my hand on his.
“Girlfriends?” I tease, trying to read him.
“None. Just one-night stands.” He shrugs, reaching for his wine glass. “Your turn.”
I blink, genuinely surprised. He’s a man who exudes sex and danger, but also something deeper—something magnetic. I can’t imagine women not falling for him, not wanting more. “Why?” I press, curiosity knotting in my chest.
But instead of answering, he points his fork at me. “You go first. Then I will.”
Fair enough.
I inhale deeply, the past tightening my chest like a vice. “After Mum died, my dad… changed. I think I reminded him too much of her. He started drinking. Then came the shouting. Then…” I pause, swallowing. “He started hitting me. Never enough to leave deep scars. Not the visible kind, anyway.”
Nate’s jaw tightens. His eyes darken.
“When it got too out of hand, he sent me to boarding school in Switzerland. I guess it was his way of washing his hands of me. After that, I went from city to city—Tokyo, Moscow, Melbourne—for internships. I buried myself in work. It was the only thing that made sense.”
He watches me, his gaze unreadable, yet his hand never leaves mine.
“Guys?” he asks gently.
I huff a laugh, though there's no humor in it. “Only one. And he was the worst mistake I ever made. We were together for maybe a week. He got obsessed, jealous. At first, it seemed intense... passionate. But then he started following me. Checking my phone. Accusing me of cheating on him when I barely had time to sleep.”
Nate’s entire body stiffens beside me.
“Then came the slaps,” I whisper, eyes fixed on the untouched spring roll on my plate. “Then it got more violent.”
His wine glass stops mid-air. “How violent?” he demands, voice low, taut like a wire stretched to the brink.
I force myself to meet his eyes. “Bad enough that I still have nightmares sometimes. I pressed charges, then asked permission to leave the country. I didn’t want to be afraid anymore and my internship was almost over.”
Nate sets down his glass and reaches for my hand, pulling it gently to his lips. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs against my knuckles.
I nod, blinking back the sting in my eyes. “I’m okay now. But after that... I couldn’t trust anymore. So I just focused on building something no one could ever take from me.”
He looks away for a beat, his thumb rubbing slow circles on my hand. The silence grows thick between us, filled with the weight of what we've just shared.
