Page 66 of Wild Fire

The color of his eyes.

“Why would you want to?” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Nate stands taller. His shoulders squared, and he holds his head high.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” he says, his gaze bold, strong.

The way he says the words are solid and unwavering.

Dominant as hell.

“I could think of several reasons,” I mutter as I step back, giving ample space for him to come inside. Nate takes two steps into my house before he slams the door shut, and the air changes instantly. The hallway is dark, barely lit by slivers of light that pour through the windows in the door and barely reach the floor from the living room.

He takes another two steps forward and settles his hand on my hip. He guides me back not one, not two, but three steps until my back is against the wall, and I set the flowers down on the entryway table; my hand opening of its own accord. His touch is jolting and forceful, but not angry or harsh.

“No,” he says, his voice tinged with a deep growl. I raise my eyebrow.

“You had your chance to talk, AJ, now it’s my turn, and you’re going to listen to me until I’m done.”

My body goes numb beneath his hand, where he holds it on my chest. I can feel the rapid beating of my heart as my breath catches. I’ve never felt so compelled to shut the fuck up in my life.

I nod. “Okay…”

“You are infuriating,” he says, and I close my eyes, hanging my head because the bitterness in his voice is evident. “You know just how to push my buttons. You think you scare me, but you don’t,” he says, his palm warming against my chest.

“Nate…” I sigh, but he growls.

“I said you’re going to listen to me.”

He slides his hand over my mouth, and every bone in my body vibrates from the touch. My breath catches and my heart races as his gaze holds mine. He doesn’t look away.

“I have always been Mister Unlucky. Every chance I have to fuck something up, you best believe I’ll fuck it up. It’s what I do best.”

My eyebrows furrow, and I can taste the sweat from his palm, and my breath steadies. Something about the force, the heat of his skin; it soothes something deep in my soul. I stay as still as a statue as he continues, his gaze sharpening.

“When I came here, I was hanging on by a thread. And the house…” He swallows, hard. “That house was all I had left, and I lost it, too.”

He lets up on my mouth, and his voice softens. I lick my lips, savoring the taste of him there, still as he continues.

“There’s a lot I don’t know. I don’t know the first thing about renovating an old Victorian mansion. I don’t know what all my limits are, soft or hard. Yet.”

His voice falters for a moment, and he bites his lip before looking back up at me with determination and confidence. It’s hot as hell, I won’t deny that.

“And I don’t know that I will not find a way to completely fuck this up, but I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?” I whisper, unsure if he’ll clamp his hand over my mouth again, but also wanting to see if he will.

“You make me feel like I can handle all of it. You make me feel limitless.”

Tears pool in my eyes, as I breathe his name. “Nate…”

“I get that you’re scared,” he says softly. “I’m scared, too.”

I note the glimmer in his eyes, and his hand slides down my neck, over my bare chest. His touch is warm, smooth. He settles it over my heart.

Then he grabs my hand and places it on his chest as he holds my gaze.

I feel his heartbeat beneath my palm, beating fast. Thump, thump, thump.