When I step out, his clothes wait on the bed—a Guns and Roses t-shirt and sweatpants with a note in his messy scrawl about getting food. The summer heat makes the decision for me. I pull on just his shirt, the fabric carrying his scent of cedar and clean skin.

The front door opens and Nate freezes, takeout bag dangling forgotten from his hand. His eyes travel over me with deliberate slowness, darkness bleeding into their hazel-green depths. The air thickens until breathing feels like drawing honey into my lungs. My body responds to his gaze—nipples hardening, thighs pressing together as desire coils tight in my core.

He swallows hard, voice rough as stone. "I, uh, got us food from down the road. Thought you might be hungry."

He sets the bag down and moves closer, each step measured and intent. My pulse pounds a war drum rhythm against my ribs because there’s a burning look in his eyes that’s filled with desire.

“Nora, I’m going to kiss you." His voice carries dangerous certainty.

"Is that a good idea?" The question is a lie, but the truth—that I'm terrified he'll regret this tomorrow—feels too raw to voice.

His thumb traces my lower lip like he's memorizing its shape. "Debatable."

"And if I think it's a bad idea?"

A smirk plays at his mouth. "You're saying if I kiss you right now, you wouldn't kiss me back?" His confidence wraps around me like smoke.

I shake my head weakly. "Yes." It's more breath than word.

His thumb follows my jawline, leaving fire in its wake. When his hand cups my neck, thumb settling over my racing pulse, my eyes flutter closed as he peppers kisses along my throat.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, voice intimate as a secret.

I nod yes, drawing a dark chuckle.

"Liar," he whispers.

When his lips claim mine, the kiss isn't gentle. It's raw hunger and years of wanting compressed into a single point of contact. My hands find his chest, mapping the solid planes beneath cotton.

"Sixty seconds," he mutters against my mouth.

"What?"

"For sixty seconds, forget everything. It's just you and me.”

"And after that?"

"We sit down and eat, then go to bed. No regrets."

I nod, knowing one minute will never satisfy this hunger, but I let him believe his own lie.

His hands frame my face as he kisses me deeper, tasting of mint and possibility. He holds me while I explore him with desperate hands, learning the man who replaced the boy I once knew. For these precious seconds, I want to know every part of him, to feel the kind of pleasure that reshapes reality. My fingers trace his arms, shoulders, stomach, drawing a sharp breath from him before his hands tangle in my damp hair. Time bends and snaps.

When he pulls back, we're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.

"Time's up," he whispers, stepping toward the bedroom door.