Page 58 of Freefall

The drive back is quiet. It’s not awkward quiet, but it's not exactly comfortable quiet either. There are so many things I want to ask, but I keep my unanswered questions to myself. Words feel like they would only get in the way right now.

At some point, I realize that he’s not taking me to my car in the parking lot. He’s taking me home.

“I don’t think you should drive right now,” he explains when he sees the question on my face. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning to take Daisy to school, and you can get your car then.”

Once again, I don’t argue. Maybe I’m still in a daze, or maybe I can’t concentrate on anything other than the damn orgasm he held over my head for the better part of an hour. Either way, I give him a soft “okay.”

By the time we turn into my parents’ long driveway, the fog in my head has mostly lifted, but my heart is still hammering in my chest.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, killing the engine.

“Good,” I admit. “I’d be better if you made me come.”

That earns me another small chuckle. “Let you come,” he corrects. “‘Made’ implies I couldn’t get the job done, but we both know I could have you screaming in under a minute.”

Heat blooms low in my stomach. Why do I always insist on poking the bear? Nate’s lips lift like he knows exactly how my body reacts to his words. Then just as quickly, his smile fades, and he nods to the main house. “She with your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you…” He hesitates. “Dropping?”

I almost laugh until I realize the implications of his question. Matt taught me about subspace and the emotional crash that can come after, but Nate and I never talked about it. He was always a natural at aftercare, so I didn’t see the need to get into all the specifics. The fact that he used that word tells me he knows more now.

He’s done this before.

With other women.

The thought pinches somewhere beneath my ribs, but I shove it aside. “I don’t think so.”

It’s not a complete lie. Am I feeling slightly vulnerable and a little emotionally wrecked? Absolutely. But it isn’t because of what we just did. It’s because I did it with him.

He nods even though he doesn’t seem completely satisfied with my answer.

“I should go get her,” I say.

My hand lands on the door handle, but I can’t bring myself to turn it without at least asking the one question that’s been circling in my head since we turned onto that dirt road.

“Nate?”

His eyes find mine in the glow of the floodlights above the garage. “Yeah?”

“What does this mean?”

His gaze drops to the steering wheel for a second before lifting back to mine. He doesn’t need to ask what I’m referring to. He just knows. “I think it means I’m not done with you.”

16

HARPER

True to his word, Nate knocks on our door at seven the next morning. When I pull it open, he’s standing there holding a tray of coffees in one hand and a white bakery bag in the other.

For a full thirty seconds, I stare at him until he clears his throat, his gaze flicking over my shoulder into the house.

“Hi,” I finally say. “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

He sets the coffee and bag on the kitchen counter, taking a moment to look around like this is the first time he’s been here. It occurs to me that he didn’t notice anything the last time. He was too angry, and then too… distracted.