I shiver. “Nate—”
His eyes lift to mine as he takes a careful step back from me, relinquishing his hold for the first time since he arrived.
“We should go.” His words are flat.
“We should,” I agree.
Neither of us moves. We stare at each other for a long moment, not knowing quite what to say or where to look or how to deal with the crushing memory of his arms around my waist and my hands in his hair still crowding out every other thought. I’d seen his ghosts swirling in his eyes; he’d heard mine in the cracking endearment on my lips. In that desperate, aching moment, with all the bullshit stripped away, we’d come together and crossed an irrefutable line of demarcation.
I worried there was no going back.
“You were wrong, you know,” I murmur after a while, because there’s nothing else to say.
His brows lift in question.
“I actuallycanrun for my life in these heels.” My voice is smug. “Like a pro.”
His eyes crinkle a tiny bit at the corners and I know I’ve brought him back from whatever dark place he was stuck in.
There he is.
“Let’s get you home,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the passenger side.
“Okay,” I whisper, not knowing if he’s talking about his place or mine, and not caring one bit either way.
***
I must’ve fallen asleep in the car, because when I wake up I’m in bed.
Not my bed, either.
A man’s bed. Dark gray sheets, sparse wooden headboard, not a single decorative throw pillow to be found. My face turns on the pillowcase and the scent of smoke and leather andNatefloods my senses.
I’m in his bed.
I sit up abruptly, sending the sheets flying. Chilled air hits my skin and I look down to discover I’m practically naked except for my strapless black bra and a pair of what looks like men’s boxers. They’re huge on me — rolled at least three times at the hips to keep them in place — but that’s the least of my concerns.
I’m wearing Nate’s boxers.
Which means… someone took me out of my panties andput mein Nate’s boxers. And that someone was probably…
“You’re awake.”
At the sound of his voice, my gaze flies toward the doorway where he’s leaning, arms crossed over his chest and intent eyes locked on my face. When they flicker down to my exposed body for a fraction of an instant, I squeak like Boo’s favorite duck toy and scramble to pull the sheet up over the girls.
I lift my eyes back to Nate’s, fully expecting to find them crinkled up at the corners. Instead, there’s a look in them that makes my breath catch and my throat close.
Fearlustangerhopesadnessguiltrelief.
“Nate…” My voice catches on his name and his eyes shutter.
“How are you feeling?” The words are halting.
“I’m fine.”
He stares at me, calling my bluff.
I sigh. “Fine. I’m tired. Somewhat sore. My eye feels about six times its normal size,” I admit. “Nothing that won’t heal.”