68
Nate POV
I fold my arms across my chest, glaring. My heart is still racing, but not from what it was five minutes ago.
It was getting good — really good — until he showed up.
I stand there, practically vibrating with frustration, toes curling against the stone under my feet. The heat from the nearby fire licks at my bare legs. I can still feel Maverick's hands on me, his mouth on my neck ...
And now... this.
I huff and shift my weight, my arms tighter around myself. Tristan just stands there, like a damn statue. His stupid pretty face all tense, his hands flexing at his sides, jaw clenched like he's fighting himself.
I hate that he looks so good like this. I hate that my heart still jumps just looking at him. I hate that part of me wants to run to him — but the smarter part remembers everything.
I refuse to be made a fool of again.
My heart might be a mess, my head even worse — but my pride? That's still intact.
