“Canada is better,” I said without hesitation. “My answer might be different if I was born somewhere else. I think I told you Zamora isn’t a nice place. Lots of violence and gangs. Toronto has its own dangers, but nothing like back there. Sure, the country is gorgeous, but there’s no comparison. The only thing I miss about Mexico is my extended family. My grandmother, cousins, aunts, uncles.”
“Makes sense,” he said.
“My turn,” I said. “What’s with the motorcycle? Is it like a symbol of freedom or something?”
He frowned at me. “What? You think there’s symbolism in a bike?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I shrugged and took another sip of my beer.
“Nah, nothing like that. I just like it. Small, fast, good gas mileage. Doesn’t take up a lot of room, either. I will admit there is something freeing about it. Driving eighty in a car is totally different than on a bike. In a car, there’s always this sense of protection and safety, even if you’re going crazy fast. On a bike, you always have the thought at the back of your mind that you’re one mistake away from disaster. One wrong turn, some loose gravel on the road, or an asshole on their phone while they’re driving? Any one of those can be the end. It takes skill, which I have, but accidents happen. That should make it terrifying, but really, it’s what makes it invigorating.”
“So, thereissymbolism in it,” I said with a knowing smile.
Nate leaned forward, resting on his elbows, and looked into my eyes. “You know, you’re pretty fucking cute when you’re being a smartass.”
I swallowed and licked my lips. “Yeah? Well, you’re pretty hot when you’re being an asshole,” I said, shocked at my own boldness.
“I think you need some more dancing,” he said. “Come on.”
He took my hand and yanked me back into the crowd. The night went on like that. I learned more about his past—not much, only small glimpses of past work he’d done, places he’d traveled to, and a fun story about hunting a feral in a Colombian jungle two years ago. No matter how much I probed, he always turned the conversation back to me. I didn’t get the sense that he was hiding things, simply that he was more interested in me than talking about himself. By the end of the evening, I felt closer to Nate than I had to any other man in my life.
We were moving to the beat of “Shut Up and Dance” by Walk The Moon. I’d never felt so good in my life. The four beers were obviously helping me relax, but it was more than that. My headache and nausea were distant memories, and I had a distinct feeling it was because I was with Nate.
A sneaky voice at the back of my head urged me to do more than dance.
When the song reached its crescendo, growing more intense as the band added some of their own off-the-cuff instrumentals, Nate spun me out on the dance floor, then pulled me back in until I was pressed against his chest. I looked up at him, finding the same hunger in his eyes that I felt in my own heart.
With my chest against his, I could feel our hearts hammering together, like each was trying to tear out of their host to be with the other. I’d never seen lips that looked as soft as his. Nate leaned in, his mouth brushing mine. I ran my hands up his back and deepened the kiss. This breathless, mind-blowing kiss somehow surpassed the frenzied, heated make-out session we’d had that morning. His hands wound into my hair, holding me close as our breaths mixed together.
The song ended, and the crowd cheered and clapped, snapping me out of the moment. I pulled away, gasping for breath, but not backing away. Suddenly self-conscious about being in a crowd of strangers, I glanced around to see if anyone was staring at us.
Nate put a finger under my chin, pulling my eyes back to his.
“Do you want to go back to the cabin?” he asked.
I understood the underlying meaning in his words. He wasn’t talking about going back to watch TV or sleep. He was asking me if I wanted him as much as he wanted me.
Chills ran up my arms as a swarm of butterflies erupted in my stomach.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Take me back.”
Nate’s eyes gleamed, and he smiled at me. Not a cocky smile, but one of relieved happiness. He stepped back, took my hand, and led me back to the cabin.
24
Cameron
Nate ushered me into the cabin, locking the door behind us. He turned and looked at me. Beneath his hungry, penetrating gaze, I already felt naked. An anticipatory shiver ran through me.
Without a word, Nate stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it across the room, his eyes never leaving mine. His tight, rippling muscles shone with sweat from dancing. Air hissed in and out of my lungs, verging on panicked gasps as he walked closer toward me. With warm, gentle fingers, he dragged my shirt up my body. I raised my arms, allowing him to pull it over my head. The cool air touched my skin, sending gooseflesh along my arms and stomach.
Nate lowered his head to my neck and inhaled deeply. “You smell so fucking good, Cameron. I’ve wanted to tell you that since I met you.”
His fingertips grazed my stomach, and tiny, pleasurable electric shocks burst across my flesh. Pulling back, he looked into my eyes again.
“I want you,” he murmured, kissing the side of my mouth. “Do you want me, Cameron? Tell me if you do.”
My voice trembled with desire when I spoke. “I want you.”
