Page 19

CHAPTER 19

NATE

Caspian’s fingers dig into my shoulders as he arches his back, a low moan escaping his lips. The sound sends shivers down my spine, igniting every nerve ending. His smooth skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing with each movement. I’m lost in the sensation of our bodies moving together, the intensity building with each passing second.

“Nate,” Caspian gasps, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The raw passion I see there takes my breath away.

For a fleeting moment, as pleasure courses through me, my mind flashes to New Year’s Eve. That nameless guy, that faceless encounter. It had been good, really good, but this is different. Caspian is real, present, his expressive face showing me every bit of pleasure he feels. A face I’ve grown incredibly fond of. I push the memory aside, focusing on the here and now, the man who’s quickly becoming everything to me.

I run my hands up Caspian’s sides, savoring the feel of his warm skin. “You feel so good, beautiful,” I murmur, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

He grins, that sparkle of mischief I adore lighting up his eyes. “Right back at you, handsome.”

Determined to stay present in this moment, I focus on memorizing every detail—the flush creeping up Caspian’s neck, the way his jet-black hair falls across his forehead, the little gasp he makes when I hit just the right spot.

“God, Nate,” Caspian pants. “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply, increasing my pace.

Caspian throws his head back, exposing the graceful line of his throat. It nearly undoes me. I’m overwhelmed by how much I feel for this man, how deeply he’s burrowed under my skin in such a short time. It should terrify me, but instead, I feel exhilarated, like I’m standing on the edge of something monumental.

In one fluid motion, I grip Caspian’s hips and smoothly flip us over, relishing his surprised gasp. “Your turn to drive,” I whisper, my voice husky with desire.

Caspian’s eyes light up, that infectious energy of his radiating even in this intimate moment. “Oh, I like where this is going,” he quips, adjusting his position.

As Caspian takes control, I’m struck by how in sync we are, how effortlessly we move together. It’s like we’ve been doing this dance for years, not weeks.

“You’re incredible,” I breathe in awe of him. The flush on his tan skin has deepened, spreading across his chest. His expressive dark eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, but that spark of curiosity, of joy, still shines through.

Caspian laughs, a breathless, giddy sound that makes my heart soar. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.” He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before sitting back up, setting a rhythm that has us both gasping.

I run my hands up his thighs, marveling at the lean muscle there. Despite the chill of a Vermont winter, Caspian’s skin is warm under my palms.

As the tension builds, our movements become more urgent. Caspian’s breath comes in short, sharp gasps. My fingers dig into his hips.

“Nate,” he whimpers. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” I pant. “God, Cas, you feel amazing.”

Every nerve in my body is on fire. I’m hyperaware of every point where our skin touches. The slick slide of our bodies. The heat between us.

Caspian throws his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. I’m transfixed by a bead of sweat trailing down his neck.

“Come for me,” I urge, voice rough with desire.

He meets my eyes, his gaze intense as he bites his lower lip and nods.

The pressure builds. My world narrows to this moment, this man.

“Caspian!” I cry out as my orgasm crashes over me.

He follows a heartbeat later, my name on his lips.

As the waves subside, Caspian collapses onto my chest. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as we both catch our breath.

We lie tangled together, our ragged breathing slowly returning to normal. Caspian’s weight on my chest is comforting, grounding. I run my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, marveling at its silky texture.

“That was…” Caspian mumbles against my skin.

“Yeah,” I agree, a lazy grin spreading across my face. “It really was.”

He lifts his head, dark eyes meeting mine. There’s a vulnerability there that makes my heart clench. I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“You okay?” I ask quietly.

Caspian’s lips curve into a smile. “More than okay. I’m fantastic. Stupendous. Absolutely peachy.”

I chuckle, the rumble in my chest making him bounce slightly. “Peachy, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should,” he quips, tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder. “So, what’s next on the agenda, mountain man? More debauchery?”

I pretend to consider it, enjoying the way his eyes narrow playfully. “Tempting, but I was thinking maybe breakfast? I make a mean stack of pancakes.”

“Ooh, breakfast in bed?” Caspian wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “How very domestic of you, Nate Stone.”

“Who said anything about bed?” I tease, sitting up and bringing him with me. “I was thinking we could hit the shower. Save water, you know. For the environment. And then fuel up.”

Caspian laughs, the sound bright and infectious. “Look at you, being all eco-friendly. How can I resist such a noble cause?”

As we disentangle ourselves and start to move, I’m amazed at how easy this feels. The banter, the casual intimacy—it’s all so natural with Caspian. Like we’ve been doing this for years.

The thought sends a jolt of anxiety through me, memories of similar comfortable moments with Addy flooding back. I’d felt this way then too—like everything was falling perfectly into place, like we were meant to be. And look how that turned out. I need to be careful, to guard my heart. Even though Caspian isn’t Addy, and our situations are completely different, I can’t help feeling that familiar fear creeping in. The fear of losing someone else who fits so perfectly into my life.

The warm water cascades over us as we step into the shower, steam rising to fog the glass. Caspian’s back is pressed against my chest, and I can’t resist dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

“Mmm,” he hums contentedly, leaning into me. “This is nice. Though I’m not sure how eco-friendly we’re being if we just stand here like this.”

I chuckle, reaching for the shampoo. “Good point. Let me wash your hair?”

“Such a gentleman,” Caspian teases but tilts his head back obligingly.

As I work the lather through his dark locks, I’m struck by how intimate this feels.

“You know,” Caspian muses, eyes closed as I massage his scalp, “I’ve never had someone wash my hair before. It’s…nice.”

“Yeah?” I ask, my voice soft. “I like taking care of you.”

He turns in my arms, suds sliding down his face. “You’re good at it. Makes a guy feel special.”

“You are special,” I murmur, surprised by how easily the words come.

Caspian’s eyes widen slightly, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Careful, Stone. Keep that up, and I might start to think you actually like me.”

I snort, reaching for the loofah. “Can’t have that, can we? Here, let me scrub your back. Purely for efficiency’s sake, of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees solemnly, but I catch the pleased flush on his cheeks.

After we’re clean and dressed, we head to the kitchen. While I grab ingredients from the pantry to make pancakes, Caspian wanders to the window. The snow is coming down harder now, blanketing everything in pristine white.

“I was really silly to try clearing the driveway earlier,” Caspian says, pressing his palm against the cold glass. “Do these storms happen a lot in winter?”

I measure out the flour for the pancakes, glancing up at him. “Pretty regularly. The location of the valley affects our weather patterns quite a bit.” I crack eggs into the bowl, whisking as I speak. “These storms can actually be good for the maple trees, believe it or not.”

“Really?” Caspian turns from the window, his curiosity piqued. “How so?”

“The freeze-thaw cycles are crucial for maple syrup production,” I explain, adding milk to the batter. “When temperatures drop below freezing at night but rise above freezing during the day, it creates pressure changes in the trees that make the sap flow. Without these winter conditions, we wouldn’t get that sweet maple syrup Vermont’s famous for.”

“Huh.” Caspian walks over to watch me cook. “I never knew that. So the cold is actually helpful?”

“Nature’s got it all figured out,” I say, pouring the first pancake onto the griddle. “These trees have evolved to thrive in these conditions. The snow also provides insulation for the root systems during the coldest months.”

The pancake bubbles, and I flip it with practiced ease. Caspian’s eyes follow my movements, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Look at you, being all knowledgeable about trees,” he teases. “It’s kind of hot.”

My cheeks warm, and not from the heat of the stove. “Just part of the job,” I mumble, sliding the finished pancake onto a plate.

As I pour more batter onto the griddle, Caspian hops onto the counter next to me, swinging his legs. “So, what other tree facts are you hiding in that handsome head of yours?”

I try to focus on the pancakes instead of how adorable he looks in my borrowed sweater, which is too big on him. “You really want to hear about trees?”

“I want to hear about anything that makes you light up like that,” he says softly. The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight.

Clearing my throat, I flip another pancake. “Well, did you know trees communicate with each other? Through an underground network of fungi, they can share nutrients and even warn each other about threats.”

“Like tree texting?” Caspian grins. “That’s amazing. Though I bet their emoji game is weak.”

A laugh escapes me. “Yeah, probably just leaf emojis all day long.”

“Tree memes,” he continues. “Just wait till you see this acorn! It’ll blow your mind!”

I hip-check him gently. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” he says, then freezes slightly, like he’s worried he’s said too much.

To ease the sudden tension, I reach for the maple syrup—the real stuff, not that corn syrup nonsense. “Here, taste this. It’s from last season’s harvest.”

Caspian dips his finger in and licks it clean, his eyes widening. “Oh wow. That’s nothing like the stuff I had in Arizona.”

“It’s from Moon Meadows Maple Farm,” I tell him. “They’re just outside of town. Best maple syrup in the area, in my opinion.”

“Really?” Caspian perks up. “I’ve actually been looking for a local supplier for Special Blend. I’d love to use real Vermont maple syrup in some of our drinks and baked goods. Maybe I should check them out.”

We settle at my small kitchen table, and I watch as Caspian drowns his pancakes in syrup. The domesticity of the moment hits me hard—sharing breakfast, wearing comfortable clothes, snow falling outside. It seems dangerous how right it feels.

“So,” Caspian says around a mouthful of pancake, “what do you usually do on snow days?”

I shrug, cutting into my own stack. “Work on some of my woodworking projects,” I say, gesturing toward the workshop door. “Days like this are perfect for it. The snow muffles everything outside, makes it feel like you’re in your own little world.”

“Could I watch you?” Caspian asks, eyes bright with interest. “I’d love to see you at work.”

My heart does a little flip at his enthusiasm. “Yeah, of course. If you want to.”