Chapter 69

Olivia

I sobbed into Nathan’s chest, clutching his shirt in my fists as memories of what my ex had done to me flooded into my mind.

The hatred for my ex had been there all along, festering in my mind since the moment that he kicked me out; but when I found out that I was pregnant, I forced myself to put on a brave face for my future child and push down the anger that I had.

Now, however, the sweetness of the cherry pie and the warm embrace of my childhood friend dredged out all of that pain.

“Shh,” Nathan whispered, stroking my hair. “It’s alright.”

“I hate him so much,” I sobbed. “I can’t believe that he’s just ignoring his own child.”

Nathan let out a deep sigh. “I know, Liv. I’m sorry. If I could take away your pain, I would.”

My sobs subsided. Slowly, I looked up. My tear-stained eyes met Nathan’s, which were filled with sadness. But there was a hint of something else there, something more tender, a glimmer of hope amongst all of the turmoil.

A flicker of something inexplicable passed between us as that familiar, tantalizing scent suddenly enveloped my senses. It was the same scent that had caught my attention before, on the porch.

I licked my lips. “Nathan, I…”

Unable to resist the pull, I rose on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. In that moment, our mouths collided, and the taste of cherry pie lingered on our tongues. It was a passionate, desperate kiss, fueled by a mix of emotions we couldn't fully comprehend.

When we finally broke apart, Nathan’s gaze dropped to the floor. I felt my heart wrench in my chest as he took a step back.

“Thanks for the pie, Olivia,” he uttered awkwardly before turning on his heel and walking away.

I was left alone there in the middle of the kitchen, with my fingers pressed against my lips as though that would somehow preserve the taste of his tongue.

…

I felt like a fool for not controlling myself. It was a stupid thing to do, an impulse that I should have controlled. Whatever that scent was, if it was even anything to begin with, didn’t belong to Nathan.

We were just friends; not mates. My wolf was dormant, and would likely stay dormant. Whatever scent I picked up had nothing to do with Nathan or my wolf.

However, I couldn’t shake the burning sensation of where Nathan’s lips had collided with mine. A ghost of his kiss still lingered there, and secretly I wanted to keep it alive somehow.

Later that evening, I decided that I needed to talk to Nathan. Maybe I could make him realize that this was all just a big misunderstanding, an accidental kiss that came from a tender moment, a confused feeling.

Slowly and quietly, I climbed the stairs to Nathan’s room.

However, as I approached his room, I couldn’t help but notice something strange.

There were unfamiliar, muffled sounds coming from his room. It sounded like his voice, but he wasn’t speaking. There were no words, no distinct fluctuations of speech. He was… moaning?

I paused, biting my lip as I realized that the door was open just a sliver. Curiosity got the better of me, and I felt as though I was a puppet being directed by invisible strings as I slowly and cautiously leaned forward to peer through the crack.

My face flushed with embarrassment as I realized what I was witnessing. Nathan was lying on his bed, face up. His eyes were closed as though he was sleeping, but his lips were parted and his back was arched, and…

My eyes widened as I saw his arm moving. I followed his arm down, down to his hand, and quietly clapped my hand over his mouth.

I shouldn’t have been watching, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from this intimate act of self-pleasure that he was engaging in.

My mind raced, trying to understand the connection between our kiss earlier and what he was doing now.

As I watched him stroking himself, my eyes sneakily taking in his length and girth when I knew that I should have walked away, it felt as though my brain was scrambling, hoping to find an invisible threat that was connecting his act to me.

But then, my eyes wandered down to the edge of the bed, where I saw something familiar: the magazines. I remembered them now; I had found them, hidden underneath him, on the day that I had found him sleeping on the front porch.

My face turned an even deeper shade of red. Just as I heard another strained moan escape his lips, as though he was about to reach his climax, I rushed away.

With my feet carrying me silently down the hallway, having memorized the places where the floorboards creaked the least from years of spending the night in this villa, I swiftly ran to my room and slipped inside.

I panted heavily as I shut the door behind me, leaning back against the wood.

Surely I only caught him in a private moment of self-pleasure, inflicted by his magazines. But at the same time, it was as though there was another little voice in the back of my mind, asking me what if…

What if he was urged to look at those magazines because of our kiss? What if There was more to our relationship?

As I slid down to the floor, gripping my hair in my hands, I began to question my role in Nathan's life. I wondered if I had misinterpreted his feelings or the significance of our kiss.

Perhaps it was all a product of my overactive imagination, and he was simply fulfilling his physical needs.

In the solitude of my room, I wrestled with my emotions. Doubts and insecurities gnawed at me, threatening to unravel the delicate bond I shared with Nathan.

I had convinced myself that our friendship was too precious to risk, and yet, my impulsive actions had blurred the lines.

But deep down, I couldn't shake the lingering connection I felt with him.

Our shared moments, the stolen kisses, and the scent that seemed to bind us together — all whispered of a deeper longing, one that defied rationality.

I yearned for something more, even if I couldn't fully grasp its nature.

That night, I laid in bed for hours, unable to sleep long after the house had fallen utterly silent. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Nathan lying there, with his eyes closed and his hand…

No. I had to physically shake my head to dispel the thoughts. I never should have stood there and watched him; how could I even look him in the eye now that I had seen him during such a private moment?

And I had seen all of him, too.

I couldn’t deny it. I enjoyed seeing him like that. That lustful, lonely part of me wanted to march into his room right now and climb into his bed, but I knew that I couldn’t muddy our relationship any further.

“Forget it, Olivia,” I whispered to myself, turning over onto my side. I thrust my pillow over my head, as though that would somehow quiet my thoughts, and let out a deep sigh as my world became enveloped in darkness.

But that night, I couldn’t deny the dreams that I had about Nathan, about throwing those magazines in the trash and replacing them with myself, and tasting his cherry-stained lips again…