Her eyes widen and she probably forgot all about them, knowing Sabrina. When she runs off in the direction of the living room, Nate turns me in his arms so we’re facing each other, a pleased smirk on his face. He pushes my hair behind my ears. “Do you want to go to bed?”
“So badly.”
Grabbing a couple of water bottles from the fridge, he threads his fingers through mine, navigating us toward the staircase through his drunk teammates littering the living area.
He lets me go first, his hand gripping my waist tightly to ensure I don’t lose my balance in these ridiculously tall heels. “Stop looking at my ass, Hawkins.”
“Stop having an ass that looks like that.”
We finally reach his door and I press in the code, frowning when the keypad flashes red instead of green. I do it again. Red. “Your door is broken,” I grumble, trying one more time.
“It worked a few hours ago. Are you putting in the right code?”
“Yeah!” I punch in the numbers again. “Two-five-three-nine…It’s red.”
“That isn’t my code,” he says, shuffling me out of the way to put in four different digits. The keypad immediately flashes green.
“What do you mean it isn’t your code? Have you changed it?” He shakes his head, ushering me through the door. I’m adamant I’m right, until the tequila fog clears for a split second, and I realize I’m not right. “No, sorry, tequila brain. It’s the code for Ryan’s room.”
It’s like the room temperature chills as I watch almost every emotion sweep across his face at once. Uncapping one of the water bottles, he takes a large swig, nodding to himself like he’s having a conversation I’m not invited to.
He kicks off his shoes, pulls off his socks, and unbuttons his jeans, dragging them down over his muscular thighs, reaching over his shoulder to pull his T-shirt off his body.
It feels unfair to witness this for the first time not stone-cold sober. I’m scared I’ve missed a muscle or an ab, perhaps a freckle somewhere on his chest. He’s unbelievable, and he’s not even reacting as I shamelessly stare at him as he walks around his room in tight, gray boxers.
He grabs a black T-shirt from a drawer, the Titans logo visible near the neck, and hands it to me. He sighs, finally saying something. “Ryan, yeah, I forgot about Ryan somehow. The guy you’re fucking.”
I should have seen this conversation coming. “We’re not hooking up.”
Following him with my eyes, I watch as he sits on the bed, shoulder muscles tense. “You told Henry you’re fucking him. I even got to see him in your bed.”
He doesn’t sound mad. He sounds, I don’t know. I don’t know how he sounds; I don’t know what’s going through his head.
“We’ve had a friends-with-benefits thing for a while. He wants to date Olivia, so we’ve stopped.” I shrug, hoping my brief explanation is enough, but I can tell by his face it’s not. “We didn’t even do anything the other night; we watched a movie and went to sleep. He’s my best friend, Nate, and it isn’t any of your business. Why are you jealous?”
He ignores my questions, tugging my hips until I’m directly in front of him. I expect him to say something now, but again, he doesn’t.
Reaching to my feet, he unbuckles each heel and instructs me to step out of them. The relief of pressing my feet against the flat, hard floor after hours of torture is arguably better than the orgasm Nate gave me earlier, but I don’t feel like now is the right time to bring that up.
He runs his hands up the back of my thighs gently. “I’m jealous because I want you all to myself, Stassie, and I’m jealous of any guy you freely give your attention to. I’m even jealous of Henry, for fuck’s sake, and I love that kid.”
“Ryan and I worked so well because we didn’t get jealous. We didn’t care what the other did outside of our arrangement…”
“That’s swell,” he says sarcastically. “But I’m not Ryan.”
He grips the back of my thighs and pulls them forward so my knees fall on either side of his hips, straddling him. I’m painfully aware of the no-panty situation when my dress begins to ride up, stopping only when his large hands squeeze my ass, and he uses his grip to grind my pussy against him.
“I don’t wanna share you with some other guys. You know I can keep you perfectly satisfied all on my own, in every way you need.”
This feels dangerously close to exclusive territory, something I do not want. I brush his hair back from his face and press my lips against the corner of his mouth gently. “Stop overthinking and fuck me. It’s not that serious.”
Rolling me onto my back, Nate climbs between my legs, applying pressure exactly where I want it. My fingers sink into his back to pull his body on top of mine so I can feel every breath. I need more friction, more pressure, more him. “Do you have a condom?”
His nose brushes against mine, once, twice. A garbled moan rumbles in his throat when I roll my hips against where he’s straining against his boxers. “I fucking hate myself right now, but we’re not having sex.”
Of all the things I was expecting him to say, that was somewhere right near the bottom. “What?”
“I don’t want to have sex with you. No. Shit, I do, but not right now.” He presses his forehead against mine, lowering his voice. “I want you to want me when you’re sober, Anastasia. I can’t do another week of you avoiding me. I fucking hate it.”