Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Andrew was always so rushed, always speeding things up and making me anxious, as if I wasn’t responding as quickly or as much as I should have. His impatience bled into me and it only made it harder to relax and enjoy the moment. Nate is so drawn-out about it, and it flips the script. It makes me feel like it’s his pleasure to do this to me, like he’s enjoying it so much I’m giving him a gift. My heart softens. My arm slips off my face. I blink my eyes open and look down at him. Firelight dances across his body. The effect is almost sinister. His hands hold my thighs, keeping me pinned down and in place, splayed open for him just the way he likes.
“Nate.”
I plead with him, twining my fingers through his hair as he relentlessly continues to lick and taste me. For minutes now, I’ve been hanging on by a thread that’s about to snap, and then his fingers join his mouth and my back arches up off the ground, my hips thrust against him, and suddenly, it’s there again, the stars.
I’m weak after. Dead, maybe. Opening my eyes would take a burst of energy I no longer have.
I feel Nate scoop me up off the ground, and I know I murmur things that make him chuckle.
More.
No, c’mon.
What about you?
Our night can’t end.
I can open my eyes. I can…
I almost reach down to touch him, to keep going, but then he holds me tighter, cradled in his arms. I nuzzle my cheek against his hard chest and keep my eyes closed, happy to let him carry me up the stairs and to my bed.
It’s only when I wake up later, alone, that I realize our one night is over.
CHAPTER 18
SUMMER
I’ve never woken up with regret like this. I can’t even look at Cat. I roll over and face the wall, peel the blanket up so I can peer down in shame at my fully naked body. Oh my god. I tuck the blankets around myself again and squeeze my eyes closed like that will help me disappear altogether. For the first time since arriving in England, a part of me wants to go back to New York and reclaim my simple life.
It’s clear I didn’t think things through concerning this arrangement with Nate. Everything happened so fast over the last few days. What felt like harmless flirting quickly morphed into something more, and then before we could sit down and discuss things, we just went for it. His head was… His hands were… His tongue…
OH MY GOD.
I wasn’t even drunk. The memories of last night are crystal clear, and if I wanted to recall them, I could. Oh and look at that, even if I don’t want to recall them, they come anyway.
I groan and shove my face into my pillow, wishing I’d had more sense yesterday. Past Me really messed up. In what world was it a good idea to hook up with Nate? We still have to work together! We’ve barely begun outlining!
It’s early, the sun lazing around behind the horizon line. I could get up and get out before Nate even wakes up. I could have hours to assess my feelings and figure out a plan of attack instead of only a few minutes. I need a shower, but I don’t want to run the risk of waking him up, so I edge toward my door and pry it open.
The resounding SCREECH could wake the dead. This old cottage with its charm and insanely rusty hinges. Ugh!
I look over toward Nate’s closed door, listening for any sound of him. When I don’t hear anything, I move like a little mouse, scurrying on tiptoes toward the bathroom. As quickly as I can, I wash my face, throw a beanie on over my wild hair, and call it a win. I have my jeans and coat on, my boots laced up, and I’m at the back door before Nate wakes up.
When I open the door, a blast of cold air chills me to the bone.
It’s colder than it has been the last few days, colder than I was anticipating. I tug my beanie down and stuff my hands into the pockets of my puffer jacket. My feet crunch in the new snow that fell overnight, just a few inches, fresh and white. My footprints are the first thing to mar the smooth surface, and I almost feel bad about it as I yank open the door of the shed. Nate’s faded red bicycle is waiting for me just where I hoped to find it. I feel nothing but sweet relief as I tug it out and walk it through the snow toward the cottage’s front gate.
My plan is to go into town and loop around on the bicycle until something piques my interest—the coffee shop, Martin’s store, a bleak-looking graveyard…I have no preference. I just want to get away from here. This is my real downfall. My desire to flee clouds my judgment. Otherwise, I would have noticed how treacherous the conditions were on the road. Sure, a car or two has passed by me just fine, but the road itself is still mostly covered with snow and ice. I get barely five minutes down the road, wobbling this way and that way, like I took a bicycle out onto an ice-skating rink. Over and over again, the wheels lose traction then regain it, only to immediately lose it again. I look drunk.