Page 68 of Fault Lines
I’d never seen Nate lose it like that. He was always so careful, so in control.
Jackson shrugged an apology. “Sorry, guys. I pushed him a little too far.”
Rachel gaped at him. “What the hell, Jackson? What did you do?”
He grinned, sheepish and unrepentant. “I may have cheated a little. I thought it’d be funny. Guess he didn’t.”
“You bonehead,” Rachel deadpanned.
A minute later, Nate returned, both hands braced on the back of the couch, eyes on me. “Can I talk to you, Livi?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“In private?”
Rachel caught my eye, eyebrows wiggling suggestively, but I just rolled mine. I followed Nate to the back of the apartment, into his room. I’d never been in here—it felt private, like stepping inside someone’s head.
His bed was king-sized, covered in stark black, matching drapes on the windows. A dark wood dresser stood sentinel at the far wall, flanked by matching nightstands. Above the headboard hung a painting, swirling with black, blue, red, all the colors fighting and folding into each other, hypnotic.
“I’m sorry about that,” Nate’s voice broke the spell. “I got a little too into the game.”
“Oh,” I said, blinking, surprised at his apology. “Don’t worry about it. Jackson admitted he was cheating.”
“I didn’t scare you, did I?”
I shook my head. “No. You just startled us, that’s all.”
Nate sighed in relief. “Good. Because all I’ve been able to think about tonight is that picture.”
“The picture?” I echoed, heat rising in my cheeks.
“And the kiss,” he added.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “It’s been on my mind, too.”
He reached up and smoothed a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his touch deliberate. “I hope you don’t regret it.”
“I feel like I should,” I confessed, my laugh shaky. “But I just…don’t.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
There was no answer he needed from me. I knew what I wanted, at least for right now. It was just kissing. Nothing that Cam wasn’t doing himself with other women. Why not take the comfort Nate offered?
Our lips met and we fell back into it easily, like the pause had never happened. I let myself disappear into the feeling, arms winding around his neck, his hands finding the back of my head, pulling me closer, tighter.
The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the hard beat of his heart. Cam didn’t even cross my mind. When Nate’s other hand slipped down to grab my butt and squeeze, I moaned, body responding instantly.
He broke from my lips, trailing kisses down my jaw, the hollow of my neck. His palm skimmed up my shirt, cupping my breast, and I arched into him. We staggered toward the bed, and when my knees hit the edge, I tumbled back, Nate following, heavy on top of me, pinning me down in the best way.
His hand ran down my waist, found the curve of my thigh, guided my legs to wrap around him. His erection pressed against my clit, hot even through the fabric.
“Livi,” he groaned, “you feel so good.”
I dug my fingers into his hair, kissed him harder, tongues tangling, my head spinning.
And then my phone went off, shrill and insistent, reality slicing through the fog.
“Wait.”
