Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Ready to head back?” he asks.
And all at once, it hits me. This is the feeling. This is what I should have felt when Andrew surprised me on the phone yesterday. I tremble in the back seat as we pull away from the airport and head back toward Nate’s cottage. There’s a wave of nausea followed by a rush of panic.
I think of the kiss I shared with Nate in the kitchen last night, my sharp words after he told me to “be with Andrew” like he was perfectly fine with the idea.
I have a lot of time to consider how Nate will react when I get back. In fact, I replay the various options over and over in my head the entire drive up from the Leeds airport. There’s a frenzy of emotions battling inside me: trepidation, excitement, worry. Butterflies dance in my stomach one second and then anxiety douses them the next.
I barely know what to think or feel when the cottage finally cuts into view, nestled among the snowy hills. Nate’s out repairing the fence when the driver pulls up near the shed, and he doesn’t stop when I get out of the car. He’s still at it as the driver pulls away, as the sound of the tires grows faint and eventually fades out altogether.
I’ve dealt with this Nate before—the quiet man who’d rather bury his feelings than admit to them. I could go inside and give him space, but that won’t solve my problem. If anything, it’d make him double down.
“Not even going to look at me?” I call out, plenty loud enough for him to hear me.
He sets another heavy rock down without acknowledging me. A fury builds inside me. Before I know it, I’m leaning down to scoop up snow, forming it in my hands. The first snowball I aim at him is loose and ineffective, smacking his leg. It barely gets his attention. So I do it again, really going for it with the second one, shaping the snow into a compact ball before taking aim straight for his head. I miss the mark and the snowball hits his right shoulder, but he turns around, annoyed all the same.
Of course the first thing he notices is my clothes. I’m standing out here with no jacket, no mittens, no hat. I left the house in such a hurry this morning, and it’s not like I needed a coat to sit in the back of a car.
“Go inside, Summer.”
I cross my arms, feeling petulant. His shrug says, Suit yourself. Then he turns back around and resumes his work. He picks up another rock just as my next snowball hits him in the butt.
He goes stock-still for two seconds, and then he gets back to work.
My next one hits his back. The one after that finally hits his head, and some of it spills down into the back of his jacket.
“Oops,” I say, my tone taunting.
It’s the last straw. Nate turns and starts toward me with a dangerous look in his eyes. I swallow my panic and let the last snowball slip out of my hand. It won’t do me any good now, not while he hunts me down. As he approaches, he doesn’t speed up, but still somehow his momentum builds like a tsunami.
I don’t know what he’s going to do. He’d have every right to pick me up and dump me in the snow. When he reaches me, I hold my breath, expecting the worst, but he doesn’t retaliate. He wraps one hand around my neck and fiercely pulls me to him. I only have a moment to realize what’s about to happen before he bends down and kisses me with aching passion. I can taste the relief, this feeling of euphoria passing between us. I lift my frozen fingers to cup his cheeks and he hisses from the cold.
“You should be inside.”
I smile against his lips. “Then take me there like you did last time.”
I kiss his cheek and then I kiss his mouth, anxious and frenzied. I want Nate shamelessly. There’s no room for doubt or second-guessing. It feels so good to throw myself at him and have him lift me off the ground, holding me with a biting strength. My legs go up around his waist, and as he walks us inside the cottage, I kiss him—his jaw, his neck, his temple. He pushes the door open and kicks it closed and I hear the hinges rattle with annoyance. But Nate’s already peeling my shirt off my body, taking me over to the couch, sitting down while I straddle his lap.
Everything is ice. We should light the fire, but then we’d have to get up and I will not let him leave me, not now. We should have done this weeks ago. We should have been on each other every second since the first moment we kissed. I’ve wanted that, and now, because we’ve waited so long, I’m starved. I feel like I’ll never be sated, not if we kiss here all night, not if we stay here forever.