Chapter 9
Isabel
Stretching out the sheets clings to me like a second skin and I realize I’m alone and look more like a burrito than a person.
After a shower, the warmth in the cabin welcomes me.
He’s been awake for a while. I wear something simple and warmer—jeans, a knee tall, a snug sweater.
Nothing fancy, but when I go downstairs, Nate’s eyes light up like I’m wearing couture.
“You look gorgeous,” he says, that smile tipping his dimples into place. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
Walking by, as I pass behind him, I press a soft kiss to his arm—just a little touch, nothing grand. But the grunt he lets out? Oh, that’s definitely not nothing.
My gaze flicks to his, and yep—there it is. That smile. That Nate-special that could melt glaciers and make grown women forget how to breathe.
“Go take a seat, my lady,” he says with a little bow of his head like I’m royalty or something.
I snort. “Don’t tempt me to start making demands. I’m starving.”
My stomach grumbles on cue like it’s trying to back me up in court. I plop into the chair and stretch like a cat who survived a hurricane.
“You looked like it,” he teases, plating fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a stack of pancakes that smell like heaven and bad decisions. “You passed out before dinner even got here.”
“Jet lag,” I mutter dramatically, tossing my hair over one shoulder. “It’s evil. You should’ve woken me up. Thrown a pancake at me or something.”
He chuckles and places the plate in front of me, brushing a kiss on the top of my head. The man kills me with these sweet little gestures.
“Tried to wake you. Not my fault you sleep like a hibernating bear in a coma.”
I gasp. “Did you just call me a bear?!”
He lifts both hands like he’s surrendering to the FBI. “A cute bear. A cuddly one. One that snores.”
“I do not snore!”
“You grrr’d in your sleep, Izzy. I have witnesses.”
“GRRRR.” I growl at him just to prove his point, and he nearly drops his fork from laughing so hard.
“See? You’re halfway to becoming a Disney mascot.”
“Keep talking, Nathan. One of these pancakes might end up on your face.”
He winks and leans forward. “Make sure to finish all of it. You’ll need your energy.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
He grins wickedly. “You’ll see. We’re going on an adventure.”
“Oh no.” I shove a bite of pancake into my mouth. “Last time you said that I ended up in a boat with no engine and a questionable life vest.”
“We were seven then and you lived, didn’t you?”
“Barely! And I still don’t trust ducks.” I don’t even know how we got back without any of the adults noticing our foolishness. Those damn ducks followed us and almost made us end up in the lake.
“Well,” he leans back with that damn sexy smirk, “today’s adventure involves zero ducks and slightly more control over our direction.”
I squint at him. “Do I need to pack snacks? First aid kit? Emergency flares?”
“You just need that killer smile and a down jacket. I’ve got the rest.”
God help me. I already feel like I’m falling a little more.
We hop into his car and drive out past the lake, the road winding through pine trees and memories. Laughter spills easy between us, and for a moment, it feels like nothing could go wrong.
But as the silence stretches, my smile fades. Doubts creep in.
One month.
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.
“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.
“You’re stronger than you know,” he finally says, voice hoarse with emotion. “And I hate that someone hurt you like that. If I ever see him…”
I squeeze his hand. “You won’t. He’s long gone. And I’m not a victim anymore.”
A few heartbeats pass, then his eyes meet mine again, something raw and real shining there.
“You asked why I never had girlfriends,” he says softly.
“It’s because I didn’t think I was capable of love.
Not the kind that lasts. I was trained to follow orders, to shut off emotion.
I didn’t think there was room for both.. . until you.”
Something breaks open in my chest. A dam I didn’t know I was holding.
“Until me?” I whisper.
He nods. “You make me want more. Not just for a night. Not just for a season. I want all of you, Izzy. Even the broken pieces. Especially the broken pieces.”
I lean in, pressing my forehead to his. “I want all of you too. No matter how guarded, or bruised, or complicated.”
The kiss that follows isn't rushed or desperate—it’s slow and reverent, like a vow whispered between souls.