Page 10 of I Could Be Yours (The Toronto Terror #6)

NATE

I walk away from Essie before I do or say something else I’ll regret. Putting my mouth on her was the worst idea. Because now I won’t be able to stop fantasizing about doing it again—all over her incredible body.

She keeps pushing my buttons, and I keep letting her. In fact, I fucking enjoy it. I can’t stop being a competitive jerk, or feeling guilty about the past, or wanting to peel back all the layers of her so I can see what’s underneath the gorgeous veneer.

Beyond my internal turmoil, though, I can fully admit that Essie has gone all out on this party. It’s impossible not to appreciate how much she cares about Rix and my brother.

This means I need to do better when it comes to Tristan’s bachelor weekend.

It’s planned, but I want his to be just as good as Essie’s party for Rix, if not better.

It needs to be a showstopper. And once again, I feel like a dick for wanting to outshine her, but she’s a freaking organizational, event-planning genius, and I can’t help myself.

Flip appears and hands me a drink.

“What is this?”

“Spiced rum and soda water with a dash of cranberry. It’s pretty good.” He scans the dance floor. “Have you seen the girls?”

“Which girls?” I sucked on Essie’s skin ten minutes ago, and my body is still overstimulated from that not-quite-innocent experience.

“Tally, Fee, and Cammie.” He shakes the ice around in his glass. “Tally can drink, and it’s an open bar. I don’t want those girls getting wasted and making bad choices.”

“Fee’s sister is here, and so are Tally’s parents,” I remind him.

“The ’rents went back to the lodge already. Someone has to monitor them.”

I tip my head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I could call him out, but that would open the door for him to do the same with me.

I’ve seen the way Tally looks at him. Not with stars in her eyes, but some kind of awareness.

And Flip is always hyper-alert when she’s around, always looking out for her.

Always worried. Always protective. If he gets a clue, that could change.

It could also really fuck him up, and the guy has enough emotional baggage, so I keep my mouth shut.

I spot Tally sitting with her friends in the corner of the food tent. She’s lost that teenage softness over the last year. I point toward them. “They’re over there.”

“Okay, good.” His shoulders come down from his ears, and he sips his drink. “So Essie?—”

“Nope.”

“She’s—”

“I’m going to use the bathroom.”

His laughter follows me as I go.

Halfway across the lawn, I spot Essie heading away from the party and into the dark.

Alone. We’re in the north. There are wild animals out here.

Raccoons. Bears, even. Where in the world is her self-preservation?

Did she tell anyone where she was heading?

What if I’m the only one who knows she’s out there on her own? I change course and follow her.

She lifts the old-school wooden latch on the shed door and disappears inside.

I should turn around, or stay where I am and wait until she rejoins the party.

But I don’t. I slip inside the shed with her.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why do I feel compelled to follow Essie around, even though I behave like a massive asshole with every interaction?

I glance around the space. It’s a typical shed, with a shelving unit that holds a bunch of random items and a few paper products, and next to that is a riding lawn mower—a nice one with a zero-turn radius. I used to fix those a lot when I took small engines in high school.

Essie strains to reach the paper towels on the top shelf as my shadow passes over her. She shrieks and spins around. “What the hell are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.” She shoves my shoulder, and I stumble back a step, bumping into the door.

“Why are you wandering around in the dark on your own?” I fire back.

“I’m getting paper towels.” She throws a roll at me.

It hits me in the chest and falls to the floor.

She props a fist on her hip. “Why are you following me?”

“There are bears out here.” It sounds ridiculous even to my ears.

She gives me a disbelieving look.

“There are signs posted at the dump!” I’ve latched on to this faulty logic like a burr on a wool sweater.

She rolls her big, beautiful eyes at me. “Because it’s the dump , and bears love a free meal.”

I have no defense, and anything else I say will probably make me look even more pathetic or dickish.

She turns back to the shelf and jumps up, nabbing another roll of paper towels. She skirts around me and frowns at the lack of handle. I push on the wooden door, but nothing happens .

“Ha-ha. Open the freaking door, Nate.”

I push again, but it doesn’t budge. I can see very clearly through the quarter-inch gap that the wooden bar, which holds the door closed from the outside, has fallen back in place.

That means we’re trapped in here. Together.

Just me and Essie and six years of not dealing with the shit I pulled before I left for university.

“Okay, I need you to not freak out.” And I need to not say something offensive or hurtful.

She crosses her arms. “You can’t say that and not expect that exact thing to happen.”

I give her a look and mentally plead with my eyeballs to stay above her neck. It’s tough since she’s still wearing only a bikini top, through which I could see her nipple shields earlier.

She returns the look and ups the ante when her pretty, pink tongue drags across her equally pretty, pink bottom lip. “Please tell me we’re not locked in here, Nathan.”

“I can tell you that, but I would be lying.” Good work. Not offensive and truthful.

“Oh my God! Oh my God .” Her voice rises, and her eyes flare with the panic I was hoping to avoid.

She throws the roll of paper towels at me, but we’re standing close to each other, so it bumps between us and drops to the ground with the other one.

She pokes me in the chest with a manicured nail. “This is your fault.”

“You pushed me,” I remind her.

“You followed me in here!”

“Because you were wandering around in the dark on your own!” Why do I even care?

“There’s a party fifty feet away!” She motions to the other side of the door.

“The bears are real!”

“Why are you obsessed with the fucking bears, Nate?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“What is this really about? Are you still angry about limbo dick?” Her eyes drop for a second, and she wrinkles her nose. “Stick.”

“That was a dirty move.”

She grins. “So dirty.”

“Pretty proud of yourself for that one, aren’t you?”

She tips her chin up. “Absolutely.”

“I’m already plotting my revenge tour,” I warn.

“And this is where it starts? By locking us in a shed together?” Her voice pitches up, real panic setting in as she pushes me out of the way and starts banging on the wood. “Hey! Someone let us out!” Bang, bang . “Anyone! We’re stuck thanks to fucking Nate.”

I grab her hands before she can slam them against the door again. “Stop! You’ll hurt yourself.” And that would also be my fault, which I can’t have. I already carry around enough guilt when it comes to Essie.

Her eyes are wide, and her voice trembles. “What if we’re stuck in here all night? What if we can’t get out? What if no one realizes we’re missing, and we die in here from inhaling riding lawn mower fumes?”

“We won’t die in here. Where’s your phone?”

“In my yurt, because all the people I text are outside this shed. Where’s yours?” She looks hopeful and less panicked for a second.

“Also in my yurt.” I let go of her wrists.

“Fuck.” She throws her hands in the air. “We are going to die in here.”

“That’s highly improbable.” But there is a chance we could be in here for a while. No one can hear us over the music. It’s only ten thirty, and the party is still going strong.

“What if we do? What if we pass out from the gas fumes? What if I irritate you to the point that you put me in a sleeper hold and end up accidentally killing me?” She sucks in an unsteady breath .

I curve my palms around her shoulders. Her skin is so soft, and smooth, and warm. “Take a breath, Essie.”

“You can’t be the last person I see!” she laments. “You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you.” But I do hate the way I feel when I’m around her—guilty, on edge, overstimulated, needy. I also dislike my inability to keep my distance or my feelings in check when she’s close to me. Like now.

“Liar! Every time I walk into the room, your black cloud of doom expands exponentially!”

“You’re giving yourself an awful lot of credit for my bad moods.”

I tighten my grip on her shoulders when she tries to move toward the door again.

“We need to figure out how to get out of here!”

“If you try to break down the door with your fists again, I will kiss you,” I threaten.

Well, it’s sort of a threat, because the longer I stand here, the more I really want to do just that. Feel her soft lips again. Find out whether the memory has been exaggerated in my head. And if I kiss her, I can’t say anything assholey, and we’ll stop bickering.

Her eyes flare. “You wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure about that?” We stare each other down.

Her chest is heaving.

My dick is raging.

And just as I hoped, she reaches for the door.

“Don’t do it.” I ease my grip on her shoulders.

“Don’t boss me around.”

“Keep testing me, Essie.”

“Keep making idle threats, Nathan.”

“I’ll do it. You know I will.”

“You don’t always keep your promises.”

My cold, dead heart lurches. “This time I will. ”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” She reaches behind her and touches the door.

I move my hands to her face, thumbs settling under her chin to tip it up. “God, you get under my skin.”

“Good. That’s been my goal from the start.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Essie exhales a shuddering breath, and her warm, cotton-candy-scented breath fans across my lips. I’m really going to do this. I’m going to open the lid on Pandora’s box and dive right the fuck in.

Her tongue darts out. It’s the permission I need.

I drop my head, and the moment our lips meet, I’m flooded with a host of emotions. I’m angry, I’m relieved, and I’m suddenly desperate for this kiss to never fucking end, because it’s not just as good as I remembered, it’s better .

Essie’s lips part for me, and our tongues brush. All that aggression and frustration melts away as she loops her arms around my neck and presses against me. Soft. Sweet. Warm.

I snake one arm around her waist, holding her close, though I worry she’ll come to her senses and slap me across the face or bite me. Based on the way my dick kicks at the possibility, I’m not opposed to the latter.

I run my hand down her back, curving it around her ass as I walk her back toward the riding lawn mower. When she bumps into it, I help her up onto the steel hood and groan as she wraps her legs around my waist.

She does this swirl thing with her tongue that makes my knees turn liquid.

The hard steel of her nipple piercings rubs against my chest. What I wouldn’t give to feel those under my fingers.

To suck on the soft skin and warm metal, to get her naked and just…

do all the things I thought about, dreamed about, fantasized about all those years ago.

Then robbed myself of the possibility when I ghosted her.

Her hands are in my hair, nails running down the back of my neck as we make out like ravenous, hormonal teenagers .

“You taste so fucking good…” I groan against her lips.

“I know.” She rolls her hips.

I almost laugh. Of course she knows. Essie was the most sought-after girl in high school. Nothing has changed, and yet everything has. “This is a bad idea.”

“The worst,” she agrees.

I kiss my way down her neck. “Why do you have to feel this good?”

“Because I like tormenting you,” she replies.

“Well, you’re doing a really fucking awesome job. I can’t stop thinking about your nipples.”

“I’m glad they left a lasting impression.” She sucks my bottom lip.

And then we’re back to making out. Hands roaming, tongues exploring. Her fingers skim along my belt line. I trail my fingers up her side. Bad idea or not, I’m suddenly desperate to know what those nipple piercings feel like under my fingertips.

The door to the shed swings open, and Essie tears her mouth from mine. I spin to face the intruder, ready to give them shit for interrupting, except it’s Mrs. Bright—the owner of this shed and the lawn tractor we’re making out on, and the mother of Dallas Bright.

“We got locked in,” Essie rushes to explain as she smooths out her skirt.

The corner of Mrs. Bright’s mouth twitches. “You don’t have to defile the lawn mower. We have plenty of more comfortable spots available, which you can use like civilized folk.”

“I panicked. Nate was distracting me.”

“Seems like it worked,” Mrs. Bright observes.

“I should deliver the paper towels.” Essie grabs them from the ground and rushes out, disappearing around the corner.

I take a step toward the door. “I’m going to…just…go. Sorry, Mrs. Bright.” I head toward the lake instead of following Essie back to the party .

What the hell did I just do? Worse, why do I want to do it again as soon as humanly possible?