Page 78 of On the Edge

“I’m going to go make espresso,” Marco says, and normally I’d tease him about how it must have been a sleepless night with Christian, but I refrain in front of Nate. “We should probably all talk about this.”

“This,” Nate says using his arm that was wrapped around my stomach to gesture to the two of us, “just happened. Maybe Jackson and I can have a little time to talk about it first?” There’s an edge to his voice that I know Marco doesn’t miss.

“You’re right,” Marco says. “I was making assumptions. You two should talk first.”

I roll over to face Nate after Marco leaves, and cup his jaw in my hand, loving that I can act on these impulses instead of having to act like he doesn’t affect me. “Well? You wanted to talk?”

“There are so many other things I’d rather do to you first,” Nate says, his gravelly voice rolling over me, and my body responds as if he was touching every inch of it. “But we probablyshouldtalk about this. You know where I stand. You know what I want—”

“Tell me,” I interrupt him, because Nate is a master at turning these conversations around on me, making me talk about my own feelings, before I truly understand his. This time, I want to hear it clearly from him first.

“I want everything,” he says. “I want what we had, but better. I want the evolution of the life we planned together. I want yours to be the last face I see at night and the one I wake up to in the morning. Last night I told you I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, and I meant it. I’ll always mean it. Forever.”

I focus on his eyes, the color of a bright, cloudless winter sky as I let his words sink in, wrap them around me like a blanket that can protect me and keep me warm. “I want to give this a try, Nate. But there are so many obstacles.”

“We’ll face them together,” he says and nuzzles his face closer to mine on the pillow and brings his hand up to push my hair off my neck and shoulder. “But this can’t be a ‘we’ll give this a try’ situation. We passed that phase after high school. I’m committed—my heart has always been yours, even when you didn’t want it. If we’re going to do this, I think we need to go into it expecting that we’ll make it this time ... not leaving a back door open just in case.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” I shake my head. “I just meant that there are a lot of things standing in the way of us being in a relationship. Like my fake relationship with Marco, for starters.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about how that transpired,” Nate says, the corner of his lips turning up. “Later. In the meantime, tell me you’re in this with me.” His voice is sure, but his worry is imprinted on his expression, the way the corners of his eyes pull back and then his pupils flare.

I know that this is my last chance at happily ever after with Nate. After the night we spent together, I either need to be all in, or I need to walk away for good. He’s held on, waiting for years already, it would be cruel to ask him to wait any longer. And the truth is, I don’t even know why I’ve fought this for so long. Habit, maybe. Pride. Fear of getting hurt again. All of the above.

“I’m in.” I sigh. It feels good to utter those words. “I can’t fight you or my attraction to you any longer.” At my words, he grins the arrogant grin of a man who’s been told he’s a sex god. “Once I knew why you left, I mean, that just confirmed that what we’d hadwasreal, and maybe that it could be again.”

“I’m not the same person I was back then,” Nate says, his voice firm. “I’ve grown up a lot in the last five years. I know I had some insecurities about you and our relationship ...” He trails off for a few seconds. “I promise that I won’t be that stupid, jealous fool again.”

I know I should make some promises of my own right now. But somehow I can’t make them come out my mouth. I need to tell him that I’m probably leaving the National Ski Team, that I want to move back to New England. But he captures my mouth with his, his lips toying with mine before his tongue lashes through my parted lips, and I’m overcome, swept away with no longer having to repress my need for him.

Finally, Nate pulls away. “We should probably go talk to Marco about how this is all going to go down. Because now that I have you, I’m not giving you up to pretend you’re his girlfriend. I literally can’t watch you kiss him one more time.”

“Even though you know it means nothing?”

“Would you want to watch me kiss some other girl, even if it meant nothing?”

I consider how I’ve felt seeing him with his arm around a supermodel or snow bunnies draped all over him in social media posts, the way the female fans looked at him at the autograph night last month. I’ve never even seen him kiss someone else, and my hackles are up at the thought.

I’m sure my face must say it all because Nate says, “Ahh, you understand.”

We get dressed quickly and Nate watches as I throw my hair up in a loose bun on top of my head. There’s a look in his eyes, some combination of happiness and sadness and worry.

“What?” I ask as I finish wrapping the second elastic around the mess of hair I didn’t even bother to brush before finger-combing it into place.

“I’ve just missed this.”

“Yeah, because I’m so sexy in my pajamas with my morning breath and bed head.” I roll my eyes.

“You have no idea,” he says, the look on his face is absolutely predatory as he takes a few large steps across the room and curls his arm around my lower back. “You literally have no idea.” The words are whispered, like a promise or a threat. And maybe it’s both—the promise of what we can have together and the threat of the many ways he plans to use my body in the coming days, several of which I heard about in detail last night because as in control as Nate usually is, he can’t quite control his mouth in the bedroom.

His lips graze mine, but I bring my palm to his chest as I pull back. “Nate, if you start this now we’re not making it out there to talk to Christian and Marco. And the only thing more embarrassing than them knowing how we spent last night would be them waiting in the kitchen for us, knowing why it’s taking us so long to get out there. Besides, these doors are hardly soundproof,” I say, tilting my chin toward the 200-year-old wooden door.

“Fine.” He sighs. “But tonight we’re sleeping somewhere more private.”

“As you wish.” I wink, then take his hand and pull him toward the bedroom door, already thinking about being alone and naked with him as soon as possible.

I can hear Marco and Christian talking as we make our way down the hallway toward the kitchen, and their voices halt when the floorboard squeaks under my foot just outside the arched doorway near the stove. When we pass through it, they are sitting close together on the bench under the picture window, steaming mugs of espresso on the table in front of them.

I’m used to seeing them like this, comfortably intimate, but I can feel Nate stiffen beside me. “Sorry,” he mutters when Marco raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m still getting used to this information. For years you’ve flirted with Jax at every opportunity, so you can imagine this is ... unexpected.”

---