Shuddering, I wrap my arms around me and he walks around in the room, looking at my things with mild interest and when he pulls out my underwear drawer, I let out a whimper and he shuts it.
“See?” he says, cocking a brow. “Am I not quite the gentleman?”
I nod. “You’ve always been so grateful, so gentle, so tender...” I trail off when Nate drags a breath as if I’m boring him and I flush, deciding to keep quiet. His forehead furrows and he seems to be deep in thought.
“I like to think of myself as somewhat decent,” he rasps all of the sudden and there’s something so deserted in his voice that I whine,
“Of course you’re decent.”
His eyes shoot to mine and he slowly stalks over to me. “I’m going to be the hero here and warn you, sweetheart. Say not to me now, reject me and mean it and I’ll walk out that door and never come near you again.”
Gasping, I stare at him. “N...Nate...,” I stutter, “this is me you’re talking to. I’m yours. I could never reject you...”
The rest of my words drown in his mouth. He floods me with his lust, obscuring me and he snarls, “You’re a blind little kitten, aren’t you?” Fisting my hair, he lets out a laugh that gives me goosebumps. “But my...are you glorious.”
Confusion rails in me, rendering me almost unconscious and the room spins. I silently cry out when his kisses aren’t the same, they’re too heartless and they’re not hungry anymore. They’re starving. He’s going to suck me dry...I’m going to be like the trees outside. The ones with no clothes, no lushness...just barren branches wrapped up in frost.
I shiver because I was wrong.
Nate isn’t good. There’s iciness to him.
He’s cold. Too cold for words and yet I shiver from desire when he yanks his hand under my robe, ripping past the seam of my slit and fondles me until stars dance behind my eyes. I pant, wriggling and trying to get everything to feel like before. But it doesn’t. Did I lose him? Did I lose him that night in the blizzard or has he always been like this?
“I want you back...,” I whimper, “please come back...”
“Come back where?” Nate purrs. “I’ve been right here all along...”
My eyes flash when I realize he’s not lying. This is the real him.
We twirl around in the room in a brutal dance and he lowers his head, madly suckling on the swells above my cleavage and he strokes me between my legs until I feel something blow up in me and ignite. I scream, my eyes flaring when Nate pushes my face to his chest so nobody will hear a sound. I shake, feeling like I’ve just been twisted on the inside and Nate pulls away. I gasp in shock when I see the ruby red covering his fingers.
“Mmm,” he moans, slowly licking it off and I shake from the horror. “Now that’s the best meal this house has to offer...”
CHAPTER SIX
Amabella
Peeling apples for the salad, I rub off what seems to be cold sweat on my forehead with my arm. I lean against the sink and look out the kitchen window. I can see the lake from here. It’s still frozen and my heart does a shudder when I think about that time I risked my life on the ice just so Nate would notice me.
I wanted his attention on me more than anything. His eyes felt like a healing balm, his hands were what kept me safe and his words made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. Shaking my head to myself I wonder if maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.
I’m so painfully inexperienced. Maybe I should listen more to Nate and yield to him completely...
Yesterday he slept in my bed but he didn’t make love to me like I thought he would. He held back and I didn’t know what to do when I felt a flash of disappointment. What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t have been disappointed, I should’ve been relieved but there’s just something about Nate that’s so seductive. It’s a challenge to resist him and I don’t think I’m strong enough.
Giving in sounds so appealing.
“Hurry up with dinner,” Bryce snaps, popping his head into the kitchen, “I’m starving.”
“Bryce, get in here,” I pant. “I need to talk to you.”
“Not interested,” he drawls and I stomp my foot in anger.
“Get in here now or I’ll give you a wedgie!” I threaten and he rolls his eyes but agrees. My gaze roams down his frame and it’s so obvious he’s trying to mimic Nate. Everything from the clothes he’s wearing to the way he’s tried to comb his hair is an attempt to make himself look more like Nate.
He’s failing so bad its laughable but I don’t have the heart to tell him that.
“How long have you known, Nate?” I ask, trying to stop my hands from trembling and he shoots me a sour look. “You keep saying he’s your best friend but you don’t seem to know much about him. How long have you really been so called friends?”