When we finally part, just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against mine, our eyes still locked.
His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “Is this okay?”
I nod slowly, lips brushing his again. “It’s more than okay.”
But I don’t say what’s clawing at my throat, threatening to escape.
I don’t tell him that this isn’t just desire. That every time he touches me, every time he sees me, I fall a little harder.
Because I’m afraid.
Afraid that if I say the words too soon, he won’t say them back. Afraid that what we’ve built, even if it started as pretend, might crumble under the weight of something as fragile as the truth.
So, I kiss him again instead. Slow. Deep. Unspoken.
The tension in the air is thick as Nathan moves around the kitchen, and uncorks a bottle of wine, his eyes never leaving me as he watches my every movement. His gaze is a slow burn, like he’s waiting for something—anything—to break between us. The way he looks at me sends a tremor through my body, stirring something deep within that I can’t quite shake.
Then my phone rings, jolting me out of the moment. I freeze when I see Dad’s name flash on the screen. My heart stutters in my chest. I swallow, feeling a weight settle on my shoulders as I step away from him, taking the call in the living room.
I massage my temple, trying to ease the sudden tension in my muscles as my father’s voice fills the room. His words are sharp, calculated—full of expectations. When the call ends, I’m frozen, my mind replaying every word, every tone. Something about his words doesn’t sit right. I can feel the pull, the pressure he’s trying to place on me, but I’m not sure what game he’s playing yet.
Nathan’s arms wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me close against his chest, and the heat of his body offers a fleeting comfort I don’t know if I deserve.
“Babe, is everything okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it—something raw and protective that makes me feel like I’m his to protect.
I sigh, leaning back into his chest, closing my eyes for a moment. “Dad has something in mind... I’m not sure what yet, but I have the feeling that he’s trying to lead my way into politics.”
His arms tighten around me, a quiet growl vibrating through his chest. “I thought my dad was a piece of shit. No offense,” he says with a humorless chuckle, dragging me back toward the kitchen.
I giggle, shaking my head at him, but his touch keeps me tethered to the moment, and I’m not sure I want to escape it. My heart is still racing, but when his hand rests on my waist, I can’t help but lean into him. I feel a strange comfort in his presence, something that keeps me from falling apart under the weight of my father’s demands.
“Let’s focus on the here and now,” I murmur, taking out the veggies and carefully plating them. His eyes never leave me, his gaze warm and appreciative, and I feel like I’m the only thing that matters to him at this moment.
“You’d have my vote,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes as he steals a piece of roast beef off the cutting board.
“Hey!” I swat at his hand, and he grins, leaning in to kiss my cheek as if he’s getting away with some great victory. But he can’t stop there, taking another piece of meat before I can react.
“Nate!” I scold, laughing despite myself, but his infectious joy makes it impossible to stay serious.
“Nate,” he mocks me in a playful sing-song voice before bursting into laughter. “You’re bringing out my childish side.”
My heart skips a beat. His laugh—so raw, so free—sends a rush of heat straight to my core. “I missed that part of you, Nathan.” The words slip from my lips before I can stop them, and when I see the way his smile falters, I realize how true they are. Something about him… it pulls at me in ways I can’t ignore.
His hand reaches for me, guiding me closer. I point the knife at him, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Don’t push your luck, my captain,” I warn, my voice low and teasing, but my breath catches when he leans in closer.
He raises his hands in surrender, but his eyes are dark with something I can’t place. “You can’t blame me, babe. It’s delicious,” he says, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
I shake my head at him, fighting the urge to give in to whatever this is between us.
“If that’s what Lucas wants, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh loudly.
“Whatever you choose to do, you’ll always have my support.”
I meet his eyes, unable to hide the raw emotion swirling inside of me. “Thank you,” I whisper, grateful for his steadiness, for the way he’s always there, no matter what.
He pulls out the chair for me, his hand pressing against my back as I sit down. I watch him pour wine into my glass, the sound of it filling the silence between us. His movements are slow, deliberate, but there’s a hunger there too. It’s the same hunger I feel every time he’s near, like something we can’t ignore.
