Page 63 of Fierce Love
“What do you want me to tell you, Hollyn? You knew how I felt about you when you left. I never hid how serious I was about you.”
“But I left,” I say. “And the way I left…”
“Was fucking awful and deeply unfair, yeah. I think we both know that.” He glances away. “And when this house came up for sale, I couldn’t let it go. I needed to own it because it reminded me of you, because part of me hoped you’d come back someday.” When he meets my gaze, his expression is tortured.
It sinks in that Nate bought this house forme. Even though I trampled on his heart, betrayed his trust, ghosted him in the worst way, he never gave up hope that I’d come back, that we’d figure things out.
I close the space between us, throw my arms around his neck, and I kiss him, pouring every emotion I can’t reveal, every word I can’t say into the physical expression of those feelings. Maybe I still can’t keep him, but I’m sure as hell going to give him as much of myself as I can while I can.
He meets my kiss without an ounce of hesitation, and then he lifts me onto the wide, thick stone-and-concrete railing of the porch and steps between my legs. My loose cotton dress is around my thighs, inching up with each kiss.
When Nate’s thumb skims my cheek and I involuntarily flinch, he steps back, examining the bruise that’s formed.
“I’ll never let them hurt you again,” he says. “Whatever I have to do, they’ll never get to you again.”
“This isn’t worth you getting into any trouble,” I say.
“Getting out of trouble is a Tucker specialty.”
Never have truer words been spoken, but I just shake my head. “I’m not worth you getting into trouble.”
“You still don’t get it,” he says gently. “You’re wortheverythingto me, Hollyn. There is nothing and no one above you. My life, my fortune, they’re nothing without you in it.”
One way or another, I’m bound to break his heart again, and if I let myself dwell on that, we’ll both be miserable right now. So I drag him into another kiss. I run my hand along the waistband of his pants, and he shudders at the contact, deepening the kiss.
Right now, with the day I’ve had—my parents’ assault and threats, finding out about this house, knowing that I can never have all this long-term—I need a solid connection with him. I need to feel him around me, inside me.
“I want you, Nate,” I murmur.
“Here?”
“Yes. Right now.”
He groans into my mouth and then falls to his knees to push my dress up, tug my panties to the side. Without hesitation, his tongue sinks into me, and I lean back, bracing myself on the edge of the railing. His lips and tongue and the barest hint of teeth sweep me out of my head and into this moment, where I’m somehow back with Nate, where we’re in sync like I’ve never been with anyone else.
If I thought about it too much, it would make me want to cry how much I’ve settled since I left Bellerive, how much I lowered my expectations for men and sex and relationships. Or maybe, deep down, I just knew no one would ever measure up, no one would ever slot into my heart and soul the way Nate did when we were teenagers. I loved him so deeply, so completely, that I’m not sure I was ever able to dig the roots out, kill the feelings. And god knows I tried to poison it all.
“Please,” I say, almost unable to take the unbearable pressure he’s been building inside of me with his persistent assault on my senses.
“Please what?” he says, chuckling against my thigh. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me when I come,” I say, barely able to get the words out with the amount of pleasure that’s cascading through me. I’m so close, but I don’t want it to end yet.
He leaves between my legs, and I almost cry out at the injustice even though I just asked for it. Wiping his mouth, he urges me off the railing and then spins me around, planting my hands on the edge of the wide railing. He tugs my panties down so they pool around my ankles, and then he lifts my dress.
The sharp sounds of his belt buckle and zipper makes me feel like I might explode in anticipation. He draws me back, and then as he slides in, he hisses, and I glance back to see the look of pure ecstasy on his face.
“You’re so wet. So ready,” he says, stroking slowly before bringing his hand around to swirl against my clit.
“Nate,” I murmur, caught up in feeling once again.
“Look out,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “Look out and know that you were once out there with me, wishing to be here, and now you’re here with me. Always with me.”
The notion brings tears to my eyes, that if I’d made different choices back then, there might not have been years and so much pain between the two moments. But I’d have avoided my pain and his only to cause an equal amount for other people.
“Tell me,” he says against my ear, causing a shiver to race through me.
I know what he wants me to say, what he used to love hearing when we were together. I glance at him over my shoulder, hoping my tears aren’t visible. “I love the feel of you inside me. I love it so much.”
