Page 46 of The Love You Hate
As mad as I am, I understand. “I know,” I say, voice cracking. “That might be the one truth that can save you, Nate. This whole time I’ve wanted you, and could tell you were holding back.” If I turn it around, it almost makes me the guilty party.
Nate kisses me slowly, sinking his tongue into mine languidly for a few moments before pulling back. “Somewhere along the way I realized making you happy, made me happy. Even if all I intended was to keep you busy enough with things to keep you positive about Gold Hawke and this new chapter, what I got in return was unintended.” Nate swallows hard. “You could say I was working overtime to make up for my failure with… Cecil.” He has a hard time saying his name. “There was a point when I wanted to tell you so at least you’d know why I wouldn’t… give in. My feelings for you are forbidden.” Forbidden. A chill slides up my spine.
“I don’t think it would have mattered if you told me or not, Nate. I would have fallen for you even if I knew who you were and why you were here. It wouldn’t have changed anything except the trust between us.” It’s embarrassing how encompassing my feelings for this man became. How quickly they developed from one thing to another, too.
“And you? You were supposed to start a new life without any outside influence. My job, guarding you, would have been a daily reminder of your past. Of those you lost. Of everything that happened.”
I lock my hands behind his back and blink a few times. “Make me forget.” Swallowing, I still taste him on my tongue. “Make me forget everything.”
There’s a second when I think he might refuse, or walk away. Or in the world’s biggest joke tell me he’s just fucking around. The ferocity in his gaze vanishes completely. Nate is crestfallen, a strong man beaten down. “I can’t.” His voice cracks.
Then he picks me up, brings me to the bedroom and sets me on the floor. “I’m sorry.” He kisses me one more time, a desperate plea for what, I’m not sure. His hands are hard on my head as he forces my mouth open. When he pulls away, his lips are shiny and red and his eyes are hungry. He leaves my room and closes the door. I stare at it for a few seconds in shock. A loud whirring noise vibrates the thin door and like a zombie being awakened for the first time, I spur into action.
He’s locking me in. He’s locking me inside this room. Alone. My fists pound against the cheap door recklessly, but it doesn’t budge. Nate’s phone rings and I hear him answer with a crisp, “Sullivan.” He says nothing for several seconds, presumably listening, then says, “I understand.”
“This is for your safety, Presley. I’m so sorry. My replacement should be here soon.”
As if I didn’t have enough to process right now. Nate is abandoning me.
