Chapter Seventeen
AJ
Nate blinks, looking me over, and I’ve never felt more exposed in my life.
More vulnerable.
I know this isn’t a date. It’s just two friends hanging out. Because I’ve accepted that’s what we are. Friends.
Friends help each other.
Friends have fun together.
Friends have afternoon lunches and text one another.
But there’s also a part of me that thinks this is more than that, even if we’re not saying it.
Because friends don’t kiss each other like they can’t breathe.
Friends don’t make each other come in their pants or go down on each other in public.
Friends don’t fantasize about all the ways they can make each other come.
I haven’t gone on an actual date since I was in college. Probably since I was Nate’s age. But the desire in me percolates as I hold his gaze, my heart in my throat.
I want to go on a date with him. A real date.
But every time I try to ask him out to dinner, or to go do something, I panic and talk myself out of it.
I’m too old for him.
I’m too fucked up.
I’m too traumatized.
There’s a million reasons why I shouldn’t pursue Nate, but all I can focus on is the one reason I should.
Because I think I’m falling in love with him.
If you would have told me three weeks ago when I pulled him out of that fire, that I’d be sitting in La Fonsos’s dressed in my Sunday best, with my heart in my throat, my cock twitching in my khakis, and my mouth watering to feel his sweet lips, I would never have believed you.
I’ve never been in love before, so I’m not sure that’s what this is, but…
I think it is.
Because every moment spent away from Nathaniel Barrett is torture, and not the fun kind.
He occupies my thoughts more than I want to admit. And now that I’ve tasted him, really tasted him, I want more. More of his harsh touch, his sweet mouth, his pleasure…
It’s been three days since I had his cock in my mouth, and it’s driving me crazy.
I know I could easily take what I want; and I don’t think Nate would fight me on it.
In fact, I think he’d be more than willing to feed me his cock under this table if I told him to.
And that’s why I have to stay in control.
Because if I give in to this, if I submit to these feelings, to Nate, I give him the power to rule me.
The power to destroy me.
But despite the fear, the little voice in my head telling me that what I should say is that we can’t do this anymore because it’s too much, and I can’t sustain any more damage than I already have, I dare to hope for more.
“Hey…” Nate says, blinking as he looks me over.
“You look—”
“Like an old man?” I tease him, but there’s a hint of bitterness in my words, too.
“I was going to say handsome,” Nate says as he pulls out his chair and takes a seat. He crosses his legs—the motion drawing attention to his tight jeans. But it’s not his legs that I notice. It’s the hoodie he’s wearing.
My hoodie.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I shrug.
“Told you it looks better on you.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his ears.
There’s an awkward silence between us, and all the warmth dissipates as his smile fades.
Anxiety laces my chest as panic sets in.
Perhaps this is it.
Perhaps this is where he tells me he can’t do this. That he’s leaving.
But that’s not what he says.
Because the waitress comes to get our orders, and it’s forever until she leaves, I swear.
But when she finally does, Nate is the first to speak, and I nearly choke.
“Do you like me?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be having lunch with you if—”
“No, I mean, do you like me? Because sometimes I think you do, and sometimes I think I’m losing my mind.”
Before I open my mouth, he continues.
“You’re all I think about. You piss me off, but you also drive me crazy, and you’re hot as hell, no doubt, and—” He runs a hand through his hair, and I note the way his shoulders tense.
He’s nervous, and that both relieves me but also makes me want to reassure him that he doesn’t need to be nervous. Not with me.
“I just… need to know where I stand. With you.”
I swallow and take a deep breath, my heart in my throat. I know this is it. My answer will determine where we go from here.
If I tell him no, he’ll pull back; probably start avoiding me because it’ll be too much, too hard. It would be the perfect excuse for him to leave.
But if I tell him yes…
If I tell him how I feel, there will be no going back, and it will change our relationship. But would that be a bad thing? I don’t know. I suppose there is only one way to find out, though.
“If you are asking if I want you, Nate, the answer is yes.”
His shoulders loosen, and I swear his entire body loosens at those words, and I know precisely how Nate feels.
What he wants. From me.
The question is: am I capable of giving him what he needs? Is he capable of doing the same for me?
“I sense there’s a but,” Nate says, crossing his arms. His gaze finds mine, and he twists his lips petulantly.
“But it’s not that simple,” I say, reaching for my water.
“Why not? I want you.”
Hearing him say those three words nearly takes my breath away.
I want you.
They are solid, unwavering. Bold.
Dominant.
“No, you don’t,” I say bitterly.
His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, but the words fall out of his too quickly.
“Don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know me.”
“That’s precisely the point, Nate,” I growl.
I can feel my resolve cracking, the fire inside me rising, spreading like poison. My mind fractures as a memory slips forth. One I thought I’d buried.
“Don’t tell me what I want! You don’t know me!”
The resonant sound of his palm against my cheek echoes in the air, and I have to fight to keep the tears at bay.
“I don’t care what you want, you little shit. You live under my roof; you do as I say!”
His hand wraps around my throat, and a choked sound escapes me. I close my eyes, waiting for it to be over.
The memory rumbles through my body like an earthquake, rendering me frozen.
And then the rage returns, hot like a blazing inferno.
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of. If you did, you wouldn’t want me.”
Nate rolls his eyes, and I have half a mind to reach across the table and smack him for it, because between his attitude and the memories resurfacing, it’s like I’ve slipped into another time, another body.
Another life.
“You know what? Forget it,” Nate says, shaking his head.
“Forget I said anything.”
“No,” I growl. “You can’t take it back now. You have to own it.”
Nate glares at me. “I don’t have to do anything. You’re not the boss of me, remember?”
I try to take a deep breath, count to six, but I barely get to two before the fire reaches my throat.
“No, but if I was, your behavior right now would warrant some serious reprimanding.”
Nate laughs. He fucking laughs. Which only pisses me off more. I’m fuming.
I should get up and leave. Tell him good riddance. This is the perfect out. He’s too immature, too young, too unsure of himself. He can’t handle me or my niche needs.
It’s better this way.
Yet I can’t bring myself to move out of this chair.
“What would you do, AJ? Smack my ass and call me a bad boy?” he bites.
Another vicious memory tears forth, and I can barely breathe.
“Stop!” I cry out, but he doesn’t hear me. Another loud crack sounds in the air and my ass stings. I cry because I can’t help it. It hurts.
It’s not the first time my dad’s smacked my ass, but I’m not a kid getting disciplined for eating a cookie before dinner. This is different. It’s rage. It’s hate. He wants to hurt me for what I’ve done.
“Please, Dad…” I cry into the seat cushion as another sharp sting hits my ass. “Stop…”
“You need to be punished for your sins, August.”
Tears pool in my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Dad, I—”
My jaw tenses, and I reach for the water as I try to push the memory away.
“No,” I bite as Nate’s angry gaze holds mine.
“I’d smack your ass until you begged me to stop, and then I’d keep going.
And then just when it hurts, I’d make it all fucking better, until you forget how much it hurts.
Until the pain starts to become pleasure…
” I breathe, my voice low and gravely, tinged with anger and pain.
So much fucking pain.
“And then just as you brace yourself for the ecstasy you know I can bring you, I’ll stop.
You’ll beg me not to. But I won’t listen.
I’ll leave you, hands bound behind your back, strung up like a fucking turkey, and then I’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to sit down without thinking about what you did to deserve such punishment for a fucking week. ”
Nate’s eyes widen, and the fire hits its peak inside me.
My words hang in the air between us, heavier than any I’ve ever spoken.
Tears pool in my eyes because I know I’ve just set fire to the one thing I want more than anything. Maybe JJ’s right.
I am my own worst enemy.
Because there’s no way in hell Nate will ever look at me the same now. But maybe that’s for the best.
The truth is a deadly spark; once it’s spoken, it catches on every brittle branch, every flammable surface in its path, ravaging and burning everything in its wake, until there’s nothing left for it to consume.
The waitress drops our food off, but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
“I have to go,” I say, as I swallow the guilt, the pain, the flickering ember of hope I once had as I toss two fifties on the table, enough to cover the whole bill and then some and head for the door.
Nate doesn’t stop me.
Though I wish he would.
And perhaps that is the punishment I deserve.