Page 87 of If This Was a Movie

“Jules, baby,” he says low, stepping toward me like I'm a scared animal who might bolt.

“No! You don’t get it, Nate. If this happens, if we happen, I need it to last. I need us to last, or I’ll end up like my mom. I just know it. I’ll become her, cynical and not believing in love or romance or dreams coming true, and what kind of fucking life is that? I told myself I’d rather live in my world where I believe in all of that magic but watch it from the sidelines because it was better than getting hurt again and becoming her. So yeah, Nate, I’m fucking scared.” Nate steps closer. “But I was going to come to you and tell you I was going to try.”

Finally, he pulls me into him, and I don’t fight it. The wall I built has tumbled down, taking all of my mental strength to do it; I’m running on emotions only. My body rejoices at him being this close. His warm breath flutters against my lips.

“You’re in love with me, and it terrifies you,” he says. “I love you, Jules. I love you, and I’m going to fight back your fears every day until all you know is feeling safe.”

“I—” I start to argue or maybe confirm his words, then stop because he shakes his head, little snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, and then he moves, one hand moving to my jaw, tipping it up as his head lowers.

I should be mad.

I should be scared.

Instead, I feel like I’m home.

Instead, my fingers move up, tunneling into his hair as I tug his face down to meet mine. As I press my lips to his, moving to my tiptoes to make the contact easier.

THIRTY-FOUR

JULES

The kiss morphs quickly into something all-consuming, my hand moving behind Nate’s neck to pull him in as close as possible to meld his body with mine. My final layer of restraint is gone, torn off, and thrown aside.

His hands grab my ass, and he lifts me, my legs wrapping around his hips. Slamming the truck door closed, he moves toward the front door of the house, never breaking our kiss as my fingers bury into his hair.

I can’t get enough of him—the way his lips feel on mine, the way he tastes, the way his groan vibrates through me—despite the multiple layers between us. His feet move up the steps before opening the front door and moving inside.

My tongue slides against his, and his teeth nip my lips as he closes the front door behind us, then pins me to it, my arms around his neck as he unzips my sweatshirt and struggles to get it off my arms before throwing it to the ground, never breaking the kiss.

I laugh into our kiss when he tries to take off his jacket without dropping me. He gets it eventually as I kick off my boots, his hands going back to my ass as he grinds against me. I moanat the feeling, knowing this time it’s going to end in pleasure for both of us.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans as he slides a hand up my side, under my shirt, and up to my breast. He cups it, a thumb sliding over my hard nipple.

The shirt needs to come offright now, I decide. I need less between us as soon as possible. My arms cross, tugging up my sweatshirt and thin sports bra at the same time before throwing it to the ground.

The groan he lets out tells me I made the right choice as he pins my back to the door and shifts his body in order to watch his hand pinch my nipple. The rush of pleasure shoots directly to my clit, need blooming there.

“Nate,” I moan out in a whisper.

“I know,” he says, then moves his hands, one up my back, fingers burying in my hair, the other holding my ass before stepping toward his bedroom. His lips trail over my neck, the hand in my hair forcing me to give him the room he wants while my hands gather his sweatshirt to try and take it off even though he doesn’t move to help me at all.

This moment encompasses all of the built-up tension and panic and hope finally coming out in chaos and need and impatience, and it’s absolutely perfect.

Finally, we make it to his room, and he sets me down, moving to a knee before me to tug my leggings and panties down my legs. He leans his head in as he does to pull a nipple into his mouth, like he can’t resist himself. I moan, my knees going weak until I’m forced to use his shoulders to steady myself.

When he stands, his hands go to my jaw, pulling me up to him and pressing a hard kiss to my lips before they move to my waist, lifting me and tossing me to the bed, where I bounce with a giggle.

I expect him to crawl up the bed after me or to at least start undressing himself, but instead, he stands there, arms crossed on his broad chest, watching me as I lay on his bed, propped up on my elbows, completely naked.

“Nate,” I murmur, a small, nervous smile playing on my lips, suddenly a bit self-conscious.

He shakes his head at me, knowing what I’m feeling in the way only Nate is able to do.

“No, no, baby. Don’t. I’ve been waiting a long fucking time to see this again. Just let me soak it in. You, naked on my bed, your hair everywhere, smiling at me. Fucking beautiful, Jules.”

“Can you at least even the playing field?” I ask with a laugh. “It’s a little…unfair.”

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