Page 36 of Nate Hayes

I was in love with Nate Hayes.

And I wasn’t afraid.

Not anymore.

19

Nate

She kissed me like she already knew. Like she’d been waiting to say it without words.

Istood, holding her hand. “Come with me.”

Her fingers curled around mine without hesitation. No questions. No fear.

sI helped her into my truck, our eyes locked the entire time. The drive was short but quiet—heavy with want, with things we hadn’t said yet but were about to.

When we pulled up to her little farmhouse, the porch light flickered on like it knew what was coming. I set Pancake out, and Willa took her where the other goats were. She didn’t even stir when we walked past her.

Inside, the door clicked shut behind us, and suddenly she was in my arms again, soft and warm and completely mine.

Willa’s hands slid up my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt as I pressed her against the wall. I kissed her like I needed her breath in my lungs. Her lips parted with a sigh, and her fingers tangled in my hair as she arched toward me, desperate for more.

“Tell me to stop,” I whispered.

“I’ll kick you if you do,” she breathed.

That was all I needed.

I lifted her, and her legs wrapped around my waist as I carried her down the hall. Her laughter, breathless and bright, spilled into my neck. We made it to her room, but barely. I couldn’t stop touching her—her skin, her hair, the soft swell of her hips under my hands.

She tugged my shirt off, eyes wide and greedy. “God, Nate…”

I cupped her face, slowing, grounding us. “Willa, I need you to know something.”

She blinked up at me, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bruised.

“I love you. I’ve been trying not to say it. But I do. I love you, Willa Mae Jensen.”

Her breath hitched, and for a second, I thought I might’ve ruined it—might’ve scared her.

Then she reached up, touched my chest, and whispered, “I love you too. I think I did before I even knew what this was.”

My mouth crashed down on hers, and all the space we’d tried to keep between us shattered.

I undressed her slowly, worshipfully. Every inch of her was a revelation—soft curves and sighs and sweet little gasps that drove me wild. When I finally slid inside her, we both stopped, breathless.

She held on like she never wanted to let go.

And I moved with her, deep and slow at first, savoring the feel of her wrapped around me, the way she whispered my name like a prayer. Her hands gripped my shoulders, nails dragging across my skin as our bodies tangled in a rhythm that felt older than time.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about release. It was aboutus.

I whispered everything I’d never said—how I wanted her, how she was mine, how I wasn’t going anywhere.

She cried out when she came, shaking under me, and the sound of my name on her lips broke something wide open within me. I followed her over the edge, groaning into her neck, holding her like I’d never let her go.

After, we lay tangled in the sheets, our bodies slick with sweat and our hearts pounding in sync.

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