Nate looks a little surprised, and I want to kiss that surprise right out of him. He has questions, I know he does. I don’t have many answers, not yet. Maybe I never will, but I think he understands that about me. He understands a lot about me without really knowing all that much. He’s brought back some of the confidence I lost when I found Ethan cheating on me all those months ago. He’s made me feel desirable again; it’s something I’ve been missing for far too long.

I untangle our fingers and bring both of my hands to rest on his chest, using his body as leverage as I push myself up on my tiptoes to press my mouth against his. The kiss is soft and tender; very slow, and exactly what I need. Nate’s hands come to rest on my hips, steadying me, his fingertips slipping beneath my shirt, branding the skin there. I pull away for just a second to unzip his sweatshirt.

“Callie,” Nate says, his voice very tight. “What…” My fingertips stretch across the taut muscles on his abdomen, up along his chest, and the question gets caught in his throat.

As I slide the sweatshirt off his shoulders and into a puddle on the floor, I whisper, “You flipped a switch.”

NATE CRADLES my face in his hands, his eyes locked with mine as he gently drags the pads of his thumbs along my overheated cheeks. There are specks of gold buried under all that blue. I’ve never noticed them before, even though I’ve been close enough to see them. Maybe I never truly looked for them; maybe I’ve been too afraid to really see them, been too afraid to look deep enough to see the emotion that hides beneath the surface of Nate’s beautiful, expressive eyes.

The air between us holds a current; it’s charged with something that’s making every single nerve in my body stand on end. Every time Nate touches me, the electricity doubles, creating this sublime, almost unbearable surge of energy around us. It’s so completely unlike our last time together, but still incredibly familiar. Everything about this feels amazing, wonderful.

It feels inevitable.

Nate’s hands slide back and cradle my head as he gives me a gentle, tender kiss. Then those soft, perfect lips ghost across my cheek and brush against the shell of my ear. He buries his face in my hair, breathing deep, and I cling to him, running my fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently the way I know he likes. One of his arms bands around my back, the other around my waist, and he holds me so tight. Tight enough that I think he’s trying to imprint my body with his, tight enough that I think he might be afraid to let me go. Like if he lets me go, I’ll disappear.

I want to tell him that I’m here, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, but I can’t tell him that. Trying to convince him otherwise would ruin this anyway.

He lifts my shirt over my head, tossing it to the side and then he unclasps my bra, sliding it down my shoulders. His fingertips gently ghost across my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts. His palms slide up and down my sides, cupping the swell of my breasts before the pads of his thumbs tease my nipples. He touches me very slowly, testing out all the ways he can make my body respond to him, and he watches me like he’s trying to commit every single second of this to memory. Then his mouth and tongue follow the path his hands have just taken.

I let my hands explore his chest. I memorize the ridge of every muscle, the raised plane of every scar. I taste the salty sweetness of his skin, licking and sucking and nipping him with my teeth, doubling my efforts whenever he gasps or sighs or groans, which is often.

Curling my fingers around the waistband of his jeans, I pull him with me as I walk backwards, falling onto the bed when the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Nate laughs, god it’s my favorite sound, and I make quick work of his zipper, pulling his jeans and boxers down until they fall around his ankles. I skim my fingernails along Nate’s upper thigh, across the dips in his hips, drawing a light hiss from his mouth and making goosebumps bloom all over his tanned skin. I slide my palm down his erection and his head tilts back as he exhales in complete satisfaction. I can’t help but smile, and I’m driven by this newfound power that I feel just knowing that I have this gorgeous man completely at my mercy.

My hands slide from his hips to the curve of his ass, and I spread my legs as I grip him, giving him room to come closer. I lick him from shaft to tip, gently taking him into my mouth. I hollow out my cheeks, taking him as far into my mouth as I can, and every muscle in Nate’s body seems to tense up, although he still seems very relaxed. His hands tangle almost lazily through my hair as he watches me sucking him, his eyes a little unfocused and his lids hooded to the point where I can only make out the faintest hint of blue. Just when he’s on the brink of coming—I can tell by the way his breathing speeds up and the way my name is falling from his lips, like he’s praying and begging at the same time—he gently pushes me back on the bed, sliding me up towards the headboard. He holds himself up over me as he reaches over and grabs a condom out of his nightstand, then he finds a pillow somewhere behind me, fluffing it up before he lifts my head and slides the pillow underneath it.

Nate smiles down at me, one hand gripping the sheets beside my head, the other one possessively splayed across the side of my neck. I reach up and brush my fingers along the corner of his mouth, luxuriating in the feeling of his stubble beneath my fingers. He turns his head, kissing my palm, then he kisses a trail down my wrist, my inner arm, across my breasts, down my stomach. He kneels between my legs and clasps his hand around my ankle, bringing it up to rest on his shoulder. He kisses the inside of my calf and I laugh, which makes him smile against my skin. He kisses his way down to my knee, where he nips a bit of skin between his teeth, then continues down the inside of my thigh, brushing his whiskers along the spots that he knows will make me squirm. I reach up and thread our fingers together, my right hand, his left, and he squeezes my fingers before letting them go.

“Nate,” I whisper, so desperate to feel him in the one place he’s so purposefully ignored. I expect him to tell me to be patient, but he doesn’t. He spreads me open and licks my clit, slowly at first, but he speeds up to match the quickness of my breath. He pushes his fingers inside of me, curling them up when I arch my back. We are an endless circuit of action and reaction; he intently watches me, adjusting his plan on the fly. He doubles-down on the moves that bring me closer to the edge and does away with the ones that don’t. I’m so close, so close, but when his blue eyes meet mine as he lovingly strokes my hip with his free hand, a pang of affection strikes me deep in my chest, swelling up and wrapping itself around my heart.

I realize that over the last year or so I’ve allowed myself to become accustomed to fucking; I’ve settled for the simple rush of release, of following a checklist. Do this to get that, get that to feel this. I haven’t been so intimately connected to someone in so long, the feeling is overwhelming. I reach down and run my fingers through Nate’s hair, pressing my head back against the pillow as my orgasm slowly washes over me, warm and wonderful. He slowly rubs his hands up and down my thighs, pressing kisses there as my breathing slows and my heartbeat stops thundering in my ears.

I sit up and unwrap the condom, unrolling it down the length of Nate’s erection. He’s looking at me strangely, like maybe something’s wrong, and absolutely nothing is wrong, but everything is different. I don’t think I have the words to explain it, no matter how much I wish that I did.