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His palms land on my knees.
“Listen to me. You deserve the world.”
I laugh.
“You do. Don’t you know that?”
“How can I? When I broke Mason’s heart? And now I’m going to have to break another heart? Or two?”
Nate remains quiet. “Is that how you feel?”
“I don’t know how I feel, Nate! That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m so screwed up in the head because I’ve had you on one side for months and Mason on the other, and then we went to that fucking cabin and it ruined–”Yes. Ruined. “Ruined everything.”
“How can you say it ruined anything when it was so amazing?” He is so innocent I could cry harder than I already am. “Wasn’t it for you too?”
“Yes!” I sob. “Yes, it was, but now that it’s happened, we can’t undo it.”
Nate scoots closer. “Why should we, Laney? Why should we want to?”
“Because now that I know how it is to have you both–”
“You want both, don’t you?”
My eyes widen in alarm. That’s insane for him to say. A wild thing to consider.
Sure, in the freedom of the wilderness, anything seems possible. When we are only flesh and blood under the sky, it seems like he only logical course of action is to follow our instincts.
But in New York, in the city of iron and glass, there is no room for that. We are contained in a grid of expectations.
“Say it,” he whispers.
“I don’t.”
“You’re lying to yourself.” He’s not being unkind, just insistent.
I shake my head. “I don’t want you both.”
“Laney–”
“I don’t!” I really mean “I can’t”, but “I don’t” will get him to leave me alone. Then I can keep hating myself in peace.
Nate stares at me. His hands have slid from my knees to my thighs.
In a flash, I’m in his arms, just like I was in Mason’s only fifteen minutes ago.
He pulls me into his lap and smashes his mouth on mine, anddear god, it feels amazing.
Mason’s kiss was dinner, this one is dessert. Both are necessary, both are delicious, and one without the other is not nearly as good.
I’m a glutton. A hedonist. A slut. Not in a good way. Why can’t one man be enough? My everything?
I’m broken.
Except the way Nate kisses me doesn’t make me feel broken.
His hand caresses my cheek, fingers run through my hair as we kiss on the marble floor.
I clutch his shirt tight, knowing I’m leaving wrinkles in the fabric.
