Finally, his grip eases, and he relaxes. Then he pulls out.
I fall forward into the bench, gasping for air. There’s no way I can stand.
Sweat dots my brow as I struggle for a breath and will my vision to return.
Nate bends down and scoops me up, my legs over one arm and my back supported by the other. When I look up, sweet Nate is back.
I lay my head against his shoulder. It shakes as he chuckles.
“Was it all you hoped it would be?” he asks.
I try to nod and answer him verbally, but neither really comes across.
He presses a kiss on my forehead. “I’m going to take you into my office and clean you up before I take you home, okay?”
“I can’t move.”
He kisses me softly again. “I’ll take care of you.”
As he turns toward his office, I grin against his skin. Because I believe him. And that feels better than anything in the world.
TWENTY-SIX
PAIGE
I groan as I slide into a booth at Paddy’s.
“Are you okay?” Kinsley asks me.
If you only knew.
Memories of Nate from last night flood through my mind. The way he was so alpha, so in control, but ultimately so him.
Damn. It hurts so good.
“I’m great,” I say, needing to focus on the task at hand and not Nate’s actual hands. “What do you think Marcie is going to say?”
Our friend texted our group chat this morning—the one she’d abandoned since the eviction—and asked us to meet her for lunch. We chose Paddy’s as the location. Kinsley and I showed up with curiosity and low expectations.
“I have no idea,” Kinsley says. “She’s radio silent for weeks, and then she comes back with a lunch invite? I’m not sure how to take that.”
I place my napkin on my lap and shrug. “Maybe she just wants to come clean about whatever happened, and she only wants to do it once.”
“That’s a solid suggestion.”
Kinsley looks over my shoulder. I can tell that Marcie is coming our way by the look on Kinsley’s face. For a split second, I wish Kinsley had sat beside me.
Marcie approaches us hesitantly, her bright red curls bouncing. She stops at the table and gives us a tight grin. “Hi, guys.”
“Hey,” we say in unison.
She takes a deep breath and scoots in the booth beside Kinsley.
“Thanks for coming,” she says, setting her purse between her and Kinsley. “I didn’t know how else to try to bandage our friendship, so I figured doing it like this was the fastest and best solution.”
Kinsley looks at me with a well done grin.
“So what’s going on?” I ask. “What in the world happened?”
Before she can answer, the server appears. She takes our drink orders and then retreats.
Marcie fiddles with the edge of her napkin. “This is going to sound so stupid. And I’m humiliated about it and even saying it out loud to you …” She gives us a tight laugh. “I’ve put this off for days.”
“You can tell us anything,” Kinsley says. “We’re your friends, you know.”
Marcie looks at me with tears in her eyes. “And I screwed you over. I could’ve at least given you a heads-up that we had to leave, but I thought I could scramble and get the money, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. Except that’s what I had been doing for weeks.”
“Did you need the money?” I ask. “Because if you needed it, you could’ve just asked us.”
“You should’ve,” Kinsley cuts in. “I mean, we would’ve helped you all we could.”
“But that’s the thing. There’s nothing you could do except make things worse.”
Kinsley and I look at each other.
“Do you remember that girl who I started hanging out with?” Marcie looks at me. “Lorrie. She had long black hair. I brought her to the apartment a couple of times.”
“Yeah. Kind of skeezy. Had that look that made me want to lock up all my valuables? I remember her.”
Marcie sighs. “Well, I met her at a gas station one night. We were both buying lottery tickets—the scratch-off kind. It was late, and we were the only ones in there, and we just struck up a conversation.”
The server sets our drinks in front of us. “Do you know what you want to order?”
We all look at each other. It depends on how this goes.
“Can we get a couple of appetizers?” I ask. “Maybe some cheese sticks and chips with queso? Then we’ll figure out our entrees.”
She grins at me. “Sure. Thanks. I’ll be back with your apps shortly.”
Once she’s gone, Marcie starts again.
“To make a very long and embarrassing story shorter and less anxiety-ridden,” she says, “she introduced me to a world that I didn’t know existed.”
“Like a sex dungeon or something?” I ask.
She laughs. “No. That would’ve been preferred.” Her smile fades, and she cringes instead. “It was gambling.”
“Gambling like my dad does?” Kinsley asks. “He goes to the horse races and stuff. Expensive hobby, as my mother says, but that’s the first thing that came to my mind.”