Page 87 of Fault Lines
Later that night, I stood at Nate’s door clutching a bottle of wine, wondering if I’d built this moment up too much in my head.
He pulled me in. “What took you so long?” His eyes crinkled with mischief.
I laughed. “You saw me all day at work,” I reminded him, toeing off my shoes.
“Never enough. I can’t get enough of you.”
We navigated to his kitchen, where he produced two glasses. “You really didn’t have to bring wine, you know. I have plenty. Plus, my stuff’s top notch.”
“Oh, please. Your wine is foul,” I teased, and his mouth dropped open in mock horror.
“Blasphemy! My wine’s fantastic.”
“It’s dry and bitter and tastes like moldy grapes,” I said. I wagged the grocery store bottle at him. “This is at least drinkable.”
He clutched his chest. “You have no class. But for you, I’ll drink your sugar water and pretend to enjoy it. But what about the fancy bottle you brought last time?”
“Well, I didn’t want to bring the cheap stuff until I was sure you wouldn’t judge me. And, look”—I smiled at him over the rim of my glass as I settled onto the couch—“here you are. Judging.”
He trailed after me, remote in hand. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He sank down beside me, close and warm. “So… Netflix and chill?”
“Dealer’s choice,” I said, folding my legs beneath me.
“Romance it is,” he replied, scanning the menu. “It has the highest chance of putting you in the mood.”
I shoved his arm, giggling. “You’re hopeless.”
He just shrugged, smiling like he already had everything he wanted. “I’m a man, you’re a woman. Who could blame me?”
He picked an old Matthew McConaughey movie, and as it played, I let his arm wind around me, and the glass grow emptier in my hand, and time slip past. After a while, I excused myself, wandering down the hall to the bathroom.
I stared at my reflection for a long moment. What was I doing? Here in another man’s apartment, playing at date nightwhile my husband was doing God knows what with someone else. How had we become this? Was there even a point to us anymore, if neither of us could be faithful to the other—not even in spirit?
But then I thought of Cam. When he was home, his touch still did something to me, and his voice still pulled me toward him, even when I didn’t want to go. I was still hopelessly tangled in him, love and anger twined together.
But Nate was something different. Solid. Patient. Kind in all the ways I remembered needing before I even met Cam. If I went to bed with Nate—it wouldn’t just be sex. It would be more.
Cam had opened the door, whether he realized it or not. Maybe it was time he learned what really lived on the other side.
I took a deep breath and let the hurt untangle itself inside me. Tonight wasn’t about Cam. Not about anything but what I wanted.
I came back to the living room and straddled the couch, facing Nate. I caught his face in my hands and kissed him, not giving myself time to think.
He didn’t hesitate, setting his wine glass aside and pulling me closer. His lips were warm, and not hurried, and kissing him felt instantly familiar. His hands found my waist; mine cupped his jaw. I shifted, climbing into his lap, and the hardness beneath me left no doubt as to what he wanted.
His hands slid to my hips, a steadying grip as I rocked against him. The rough denim, the press of him—it was all different, but I wanted more.
“Do you have a condom?” Breathless, I pulled back enough to ask.
He nearly toppled me as he bounded to his feet, returning moments later, foil packet in hand.
I raised an eyebrow. “Eager much?”
He just grinned, tearing the wrapper open. “Never been more ready for anything.”
He shucked off his jeans and boxers, and I was surprised—but pleased. For his size, he was… impressive. Not that I really had much to compare to, but it looked good to me. He rolled the condom on and tugged me back to him, impatient now.
I peeled off my leggings slowly, letting him see every inch, then let my underwear drop, unapologetic. There was nothing nervous or shy in the way he looked at me. Unlike with Cam lately, I didn’t feel like I was being measured against anyone else. I was the only one in Nate’s gaze.
