Being back in Nate’s arms might seem like the most natural place to be, but it doesn’t diminish the fact that only days ago, I was engaged to another man.
Can I forget it all and throw caution to the wind, pretending we have no baggage?
The nerves in my voice are clear as day, so he concedes. “I’ll try my best. But then I want one more kiss.” I’m back against the wall, and his lips are on mine before I have a chance to blink.
The kiss is wild. All suction and force, and it doesn’t matter that I can’t breathe; the passion is enough to give me life.
Every inch of his hard body is pressed against mine; he hasn’t lost one percent of his muscles. If anything, he seems bigger and bulkier than ever.
My hands fist his hair, tugging, causing a low, guttural groan to escape him, vibrating my whole body with excitement. His palms are on my waist, and then I’m airborne like I weigh nothing. The second I wrap my legs around him, his hard length grinds right over my center, exactly where I need him most. Now I’m the one who can’t control the moan that tears from me, raw and needy.
God, he feels too good.
On instinct, I roll my hips, throw my head back, and then he drops me. I’m back on the ground as quickly as he picked me up.
“Shit.” Nate takes a dramatic step back. He runs his hands down his face and lets out a ragged breath. “Maybe the no-touching rule is best. I was about to blow in my pants like in my high school days.”
“I’m pretty sure that happened a few times in college, too,” I tease.
“Are you complaining?” He lifts his brows. “It’s hard to control when you’re so fucking hot.”
He’s right, neither of us can control ourselves tonight, but it’s always been like this with Nate. It shouldn’t be a shock to either of us.
He holds out his palm, and I don’t hesitate to slide my hand in his. “Come on, comedian.”
Back with the group, I spot Seb and can’t resist heading straight for him. His arms open when he spots me, ready for a hug.
“Hi, stranger.” He pulls me into his chest and kisses my forehead.
Leo might be one of my best friends, but Seb’s broken, tortured heart has always spoken to me on a whole other level.
I get him in ways others don’t.
“I missed you,” I whisper. “Why haven’t you come to visit?”
His face drops, and his dark eyes fill with regret. “I’m sorry.”
I rub his arm. “Forget about it. You weren’t ready.”
A twitch, barely a smile, is how Seb shows his gratitude for not pushing it. He’s struggled more than anyone with Camila’s death, and from what I’ve heard, he is still as bad off as he was the day she died.
“How are you? How’s work?”
“Good.” He nods.
“Still a man of few words, I see,” I tease. “Take me to lunch next week?”
“If I must.”
I nod. “Yes. If you want a buffer so I don’t interrogate you, we can take Claud.”
He doesn’t answer, he just smirks and shakes his head.
My phone buzzes in my bag.
Mase.
Mason: Wish I could be there tonight. Send me pictures. I’m sure you look beautiful.
