Page 203 of Before We Were

CHAPTER59

HE WON'T HURT YOU ANYMORE

NATE

I can't believewhat's unfolding right now. Here, against this worn oak table, stands the girl who's been etched into every atom of my existence. Not just in my thoughts—in my fucking bloodstream. Everything about right now feels primal and possessive, her hands digging into my shoulders like she's afraid I'll vanish. Each brush of her lips against mine rewrites everything I thought I knew about desire. It’s like someone set off fireworks under my skin, electric currents racing through every nerve ending.

Kissing her feels like coming up for air after drowning for years, and I'm gulping her in desperately. The distant hum of street traffic filters through the windows, but it might as well be on another planet. All that exists is this moment, this girl, this consuming need that's burning me alive from the inside out.

She pulls back just enough to look up at me, and fuck, the sight nearly brings me to my knees. Her eyes are wild, glassy with desire, pupils blown wide in the dim light. A strand of hair clings to her flushed cheek, and my fingers itch to brush it away, to feel more of that silky skin that's making me lose my goddamn mind.

My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I swear she must hear it.

"More." She whispers.

"More what, Len? Tell me."

"I need more,”

The words send electricity racing down my spine, pooling hot and urgent until I'm rock hard and aching for her. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I track the movement, mesmerized by how something so simple can make me feel like I'm being torn apart.

A laugh rumbles from my throat, dark and heavy with promise. The paradox of her drives me wild—the innocent curve of her cheek against the bold heat in her eyes, the soft sweetness of her smile masking the fierce want beneath. It's like watching an angel decide to fall, and knowing I'm the reason.

My eyes lock onto hers, and I know mine are wild—hungry and desperate, and probably terrifying in their intensity. But she doesn't look away. She meets that intensity head-on, challenging me, inviting me deeper.

She wants me to fuck her. Right here, right now.

Fuck.

My hand slides up to cup her face, thumb brushing over her bottom lip, feeling it tremble beneath my touch. The softness there makes my chest constrict painfully.

She nods, but it's not enough. Not nearly enough. I need to hear her voice, need the words to solidify what's unfolding between us, need to know she's as lost in this as I am.

"Words. I need your words.” I demand, and feel her whole body tremble against mine, the vibration passing into my own chest like we're sharing one nervous system.

"Yes, Nate," she breathes, her voice unsteady and full of need. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, anchoring us both in this moment that feels too good to be real. "Yes, I want you to fuck me right here. Please.”

It’s the please that forces my control to shatter like glass.

A growl rips from my chest, primal and unrestrained, as I crash my lips against hers again. The taste of her—sweet and addictive—floods my senses. She's every dream I've ever had coming true at once, every wish granted, every prayer answered, and the intensity of it threatens to tear me apart.

My hands explore her body like I'm trying to memorize every curve, every dip, every reaction. The way she arches into my touch, her body responding instantly like it was made for my hands, the soft gasp when my fingers trail down her spine sending goosebumps racing over her skin, and the way she whispers my name like a prayer against my lips—it's almost too much to bear.

I press her against the table, feeling the solid wood beneath us, grounding us in this moment that feels too surreal to be happening. Her hands are everywhere—in my hair, tugging just enough to send sparks shooting down my spine; clawing at my back, her nails leaving trails of fire that make me hiss through my teeth; pulling me closer until there's no space left between us, her soft curves molding perfectly against the hard planes of my body.

"Fuck," I rasp, barely recognizing my own voice, hoarse with desire and something deeper, something that scares the shit out of me. “You are going to fucking ruin me Len.”

The words trail off as I bury my face in the curve of her neck, my lips tracing a burning path down to her collarbone, tongue tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse hammering wildly beneath my mouth. The knowledge that I affect her this way—that she wants me as desperately as I want her—is fucking intoxicating.

She moans my name over and over again, the sound shooting straight through me like a bullet, her body arching into mine like she can't get close enough. It's everything—she's everything. A fierce protectiveness surges through me, mixing with the desire until I can't separate them. I want to wreck her and shield her, consume her and cherish her. The contradiction is fucking maddening.

My hand slides lower, fingers tracing the waistband of her shorts, hesitating for just a moment—giving her one last chance to back out before we cross this line. Her hips rock forward impatiently, answering my unspoken question. But just as I slip my hand lower, reality crashes back in with the sound of my name.

"Nate." Nick's voice, clear and unrelenting, cuts through the thick fog of desire like ice water down my spine. "You still here?"

My forehead presses against hers, both of us breathing hard, hearts racing in tandem. Her pupils are blown wide as she looks up at me, lips swollen from my kisses, cheeks flushed pink, hair mussed from my fingers. The sight nearly breaks my resolve—I want to tell the whole world to go to hell just to stay in this moment with her.

I hear the back door slam, and the real world comes rushing back in all its unwanted clarity.

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