16. Sixteen
Sixteen
Lacey
“Dad never loses at chess,” I say, kicking off my shoes as we enter Nate’s house. The Florida sunset streams through his windows, painting everything in deep purples and oranges. “Never.”
Nate laughs, rich and low, as he loosens his collar. “Maybe he let me win that rematch.”
“Trust me, Robert Monroe doesn’t let anyone win anything.” I collapse onto the couch, tucking my feet under me. “Not even when I was five and crying over Candy Land.”
He drops down beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “That explains a lot about you, actually.”
“Hey!” I swat his arm, but I’m smiling. The whole evening feels like a win, and the relief makes me giddy. “Seriously though, how are you so... okay? My family is a lot. They’ve sent half my old boyfriends running for the hills.”
His fingers find mine, playing absently with them as he considers the question. The casual intimacy of it makes my breath catch. “They’re genuine,” he says finally. “No pretense, no agenda. Just real people who care about each other. It was refreshing.”
The simple honesty in his words makes my heart squeeze. Of course, that’s what would appeal to Nate—the genuineness of it all. No wonder he handled it so well.
“Plus,” he adds, his thumb tracing circles on my palm that is definitely not helping my concentration, “your sister’s approval was worth all the interrogation.”
I sit up straighter. “What? When did Blaire—“
“She cornered me in the kitchen when I was helping clear plates. Said anyone who could hold their own with your dad and still look at you like...” He trails off, something shifting in his expression.
“Like what?” My voice comes out breathier than I intended.
His eyes meet mine, dark and intense. “Like you were the only person in the room.”
The air between us crackles with tension. I’m suddenly very aware of how close we’re sitting, how his hand is still holding mine, and how easy it would be to lean forward and—
My phone chimes, breaking the moment. I grab it with my free hand, not quite ready to reclaim the other from Nate’s grasp.
“Tomorrow’s interview is canceled,” I read, relief flooding through me. Rachel says they need to reschedule for next week.”
“Thank God,” Nate mutters. “I think we’ve earned a break from performing.”
The word ‘performing’ hits me oddly because nothing about tonight felt like a performance. Nothing about the way he’s holding my hand feels fake.
“So,” he continues, “what should we do with our unexpected free day?”
“Something normal?”
“Define normal.”
“I don’t know. What do regular people do on their days off?”
His fingers are still intertwined with mine, a casual intimacy that feels anything but casual. “We could spend the day on the beach again.”
“We did that last time. Let’s do something different.” I try to ignore how each small touch of his fingers sends electricity through my skin.
“Fair point. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He shifts closer, the movement seemingly unconscious. “Tonight? Movie marathon? Make popcorn and make fun of a bad action film?”
“That sounds...” Perfect. Dangerous. “Nice.”
He grins, and my stomach flips. “I’ll make the popcorn.”
“Great. But I need to change first.” I gesture at my sundress. “Not exactly movie marathon attire.”
His eyes trail over me in a way that makes my skin tingle. “I don’t know. Looks pretty perfect to me.”
“Flatterer.” I stand, reluctantly pulling my hand from his. “I’ll be right back.”
In my room, I take a moment to breathe. Something is shifting between us. It has been all day, and I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend I don’t feel it.
I change into yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, pausing briefly in front of the mirror. This is just a movie night—With my fake fiancé—Who I can’t stop thinking about kissing.
When I return, Nate has changed too—worn jeans and a soft henley that makes me want to curl up against him. He’s scrolling through movie options.
“Better?” I settle beside him.
He looks at me, really looks at me, and the warmth in his eyes makes me shiver. “You’re always beautiful, Lace.”
The nickname, the compliment, the casual intimacy—it’s too much and not enough. I grab the remote, needing something to do with my hands. “So, what are we watching?”
He lets me change the subject, but his arm slides around my shoulders as we scroll through options. I find myself melting into his side, my head eventually resting against his chest where I can hear his steady heartbeat. This is dangerous territory, but with the sunset painting us golden and his warmth surrounding me, I can’t bring myself to care.
We share a huge bowl of popcorn, but Nate eats most of it. I’m astonished he can still eat after dinner with my family. I’ve completely lost track of the plot, too aware of every small movement Nate makes beside me. At some point, we shifted, so I’m practically tucked into his side, his fingers absently playing with my hair.
“Want the last handful?” he asks, his voice rumbling through his chest where my head rests.
“Mmm, share it?”
He scoops up the last few pieces, but instead of handing me my share, he brings a couple of kernels to my lips. My breath catches as I open my mouth, my lips brushing his fingers. His hand freezes for a moment, and I hear his sharp intake of breath.
When I look up at him, the movie forgotten, his eyes are dark and intense. A grain of buttery salt still clings to his thumb, and without thinking, I reach up and wipe it away. His hand catches my wrist before I can pull back.
“Lacey...” My name is barely a whisper on his lips.
The air between us feels electric, charged with weeks of denied attraction and pretend touches that never felt pretend at all. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist, finding my pulse point, and I know he can feel how fast my heart is racing.
“We shouldn’t,” I manage, but I’m already turning toward him, drawn like a magnet.
“Probably not,” he agrees, his other hand sliding into my hair. “But I’m not going to stop this time.”
I shake my head, unable to form words, as he pulls me closer. “I don’t want you to stop.”
The last word barely leaves my lips before he kisses me, and everything else falls away. This isn’t like our staged kisses for the cameras. This is real and raw and devastating. His lips are soft but demanding, and I melt into him, my hands fisting his shirt to pull him closer.
He groans into my mouth, the sound sending shivers down my spine. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, and suddenly, I’m in his lap, his hands spanning my waist as mine explore the broad planes of his chest.
“God, Lace,” he breathes against my neck, pressing hot kisses along my throat. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“How long?” I gasp as his teeth graze my pulse point.
Instead of answering, he captures my mouth again, and this kiss is even more intense than the first. One of his hands slides under my t-shirt, his warm palm pressed against the small of my back, and I arch into him, wanting more, needing—
A phone rings, shrill and demanding. We break apart, both breathing hard. It’s my phone, and Rachel’s name is flashing on the screen.
Nate’s forehead rests against mine as the phone continues to ring. His hands are still warm on my skin, and I’m still in his lap, and everything about this moment feels both perfectly right and terribly wrong.
“We should...” I start, but I can’t finish the thought.
“Yeah,” he agrees roughly, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his thumb traces small circles on my back, sending little sparks of electricity shooting through my body.
The phone stops ringing, only to start again immediately.
“Rachel’s persistent,” he murmurs, finally pulling back enough to look at me. His eyes are still dark with desire, his hair slightly tousled from my hands running through it, and it takes everything in me not to dive right back in.
“She’ll keep calling,” I say, reluctantly reaching for the phone to answer it.
Nate’s hand covers mine. I watch as he turns my phone off, then does the same with his own. When he turns back to me, his eyes are dark with intention.
This time, when he reaches for me, I know there will be no more interruptions.
Somehow, in between the kisses, Nate manages to get my t-shirt off me as I pull off his henley, baring his chiseled chest to my wandering hands. My fingers lightly trace the tattoos on his muscled arms while he makes short work of my bra.
I gasp as his warm palms cup my full breasts, pulling me toward his mouth as his teeth lightly graze my aching nipples. I vaguely hear the sound of a zipper as he sheds his jeans. I’m not even aware of him removing my yoga pants and panties until I suddenly feel skin on skin as he returns me back to his lap. His hands warm on my waist as he turns me to face him.
Feeling his hand slip between my thighs and find me—wet and aching for him. I’m vividly aware of his rock-hard erection. It lengthens and thickens as his strong hands come back to my waist. He suddenly shifts, pulling me off his lap and twisting until I’m flat on my back on the cushions, and he’s above me.
His blue eyes bore into mine, and his face hardens with want as he slowly—oh so slowly—works his way down my body from my lips to my breasts. After a few heart-stopping moments, and only after a helpless whimper escapes my lips, does he venture further. My stomach clenches when his mouth grazes my belly button in passing as he continues moving downward in his quest. Deliberately, he spreads my thighs to make room for him.
Taking his time, he slowly lifts my legs, placing them over each shoulder, and I quiver with anticipation as I feel his hot breath against my inner thigh. One hand covers a breast as he presses me deeper into the cushions. I’m spread before him like a feast. His other hand covers my hipbone, holding me down as he leans in for a long, slow taste.
He takes his time exploring my folds, leaving me a quivering mass as he delves in deep. A helpless whimper escapes me when he finally leans back, only to replace his mouth with his talented, long fingers. He plays me like an instrument, bringing me tittering to the edge of my desire just to back off. My hands grasp his hair, and I tug—hard.
But it doesn’t hurry him—doesn’t even deter him. He’s bent on having his way as he continues to drive me mad with his slow and steady ministrations. When my climax hits, it takes me by surprise, and I shatter in his arms as I loudly moan out his name.
Hardly giving me time to come down, he moves, settling over me. His weight pressing me further into the cushions. I hear him rip open a foil packet. Then he’s above me, his eyes gleaming as I feel him enter me. The fullness of him making me gasp in surprise as he fills me in one swift stroke.
I close my eyes, and he pauses. Waiting.
“Open your eyes, Lacey.” his voice is low, gritty, and my eyes flutter open at his command.
Once my eyes meet his, he finally starts to move. Pulling out, only to surge back in. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he increases the force of his thrusts.
His eyes continue to hold mine, not allowing me to look away as he continues to take me. I’m close, so close, and his thrusts intensify as he feels the first tremor run through me. His hand reaches down, finding my swollen clit, and he thrums it with his thumb, and suddenly, I’m flying——pushed over the edge of my desire.
A moment later, I feel him follow me, and he gives a hoarse groan, finding his own release. As we lay there, tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. I know, with absolute certainty, that we’ve just crossed a line we can never uncross.