Page 74 of Fumbled Into Love

^That was Maren.

ARE YOU OKAY??

They hit youSO hard.

Oh good. You got up.

I'm not sure why I’m narrating this to you via text, but I don’t think I can stop.

Gordie says number 57 is a big meanie pants who deserves to get jock itch.

TOUCHDOWNNNNNN!!!!!

This is Maren. I am taking her phone away. She can have it back when you respond.

The smile on my face is unshakeable as an undeniable zing zaps my chest.

“You’re home!” Nathalie screams as she pops up from the couch. “I am allowed to platonically hug you, right?” she asks, and I nod my head enthusiastically.

The air whooshes from my lungs as she barrels into my chest in an unexpectedly welcomed greeting. Fuck, it’s nice to be greeted like this, as if she’s been waiting for me to come home, counting down the minutes until we could be together.

“I recorded our show,” she says, sliding down my body to land on the floor.

I drink Nathalie in, admiring the way her hair falls onto her shoulders in soft curls, when my gaze snatches on…what the hell is she wearing?

It’s a pink and purple floral pattern resembling the couch in my Nana’s home. The hem stops at her knees with a small strip of lace and hangs off her body, revealing little, but there’s something about it.

It’s odd and off-putting but also incredibly sexy.

“What are you wearing?” I ask, reaching out to touch the soft cotton fabric. It’s butter beneath my fingers, and as she shifts, I realize she’s not wearing a bra.

“Oh, this?” She pinches the dress and raises it before letting it fall. “This is my muumuu.”

“Your what?”

I have never heard of that in my life.

What she’s wearing is hideous, but she looks so beautiful in it that I’m nearly on my knees. Nathalie spins, and the dress rides up to reveal a peak of her butt.

She’s not wearinganythingunderneath it.

I hate the ugly dress, and I want her to buy a hundred more in different patterns.

“It’s a nightgown, but it’s loose and comfy.” Her smile is cheerful, and she takes a step closer. “I’ve been waiting for you to say it, but I can’t wait any longer…so, artichoke?”

I don’t want to rescind our ‘just sex’ deal, but I’m afraid if I sleep with her, I’m not going to be able to put my feelings in a box.

It’s not going to be just sex for me, but as she waits for my response with hopeful eyes, it’s clear I’m not making it out ofthis in one piece, so I may as well enjoy the time I do have with her before everything reverts to how it was before.

I’m not ready for that, but maybe if I allow myself this time with her and play pretend, then the ending will hurt less.

Wordlessly, I drag her into her bedroom, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I’m pushing her back onto the bed. I’ve never felt this sense of urgency to connect with someone. In the end, it was robotic with Savannah. In the beginning, we were young and clumsy, but I don’t think I ever desired her—craved her—the way I do with Nathalie.

I’ve been trying to deny that craving.

“Take thatthingoff,” I say, barely able to restrain the insatiable need building in my body. Nathalie squeaks, eyes widened with surprise, but she does as I say, slowly peeling the nightgown over her head.

My mouth dries at the sight of her bare, and I stalk toward her, a man on a mission.

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