End Game

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Nate

I woke slowly, the early morning light streaming through the blinds, striping the room in soft shadows. For a moment, I didn't know where I was. Then I saw her.

Aurora.

She was lying beside me, naked beneath my sheets, curled up like she belonged there—like this was the most natural thing in the world.

I couldn't look away. Her bare skin glowed in the sunlight, golden from the California sun, freckles scattered across her shoulder where the sheet had slipped down. Her red hair spilled across my pillow in a wild, tangled mess from the night before, framing her face like something out of a dream I hadn't quite woken from. God, she was stunning. More than that—there was something about seeing her like this, soft and unguarded, that made my chest tighten in a way I didn't expect.

I'd seen her in so many ways—confident, sharp, infuriated, teasing—but never like this. Never stripped of her armor. It made her even more beautiful, and I knew I could stay like this, just staring, for as long as she'd let me.

Flashes of last night flickered through me. The sound of her voice at my door. The look in her eyes when she told me she'd broken up with William. For a split second, I hadn't known what to do—if she was here because of me, or if I was just a rebound, a way to burn down everything she was trying to escape. I wasn't like him, or her family. I wasn't the kind of guy she was supposed to want.

But then she kissed me.

And the second her lips touched mine, every doubt burned away. It wasn't impulsive, it wasn't careless. It was deeper—something that cut straight through me and left me addicted. Hooked. I knew then I'd never be able to stop kissing her. I didn't want to stop. I wanted her, all of her, in a way I hadn't let myself admit until she was standing in front of me.

Now, lying here, watching her breathe in slow, even pulls of morning air, I felt it even stronger. This wasn't fleeting—not for me. It scared the hell out of me, how much I wanted this girl.

She stirred, shifting under the sheets. Her lashes fluttered before her eyes blinked open, hazy with sleep. When her gaze found mine, a small, shy smile tugged at her lips, and my heart stumbled in my chest.

"Were you watching me sleep?" she asked, voice husky, still half in that dream where nothing had consequences.

I propped myself on my elbow and grinned. "Maybe."

She laughed, the sound small and sleepy, and reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're such a creep."

"Maybe." I let my hand linger there, on the warm skin beside her temple. "It's hard not to be. You look ridiculous when you sleep." My thumb traced the edge of her cheek. "In a good way."

She swatted me with a pillow, then softened, the mischief in her eyes turning tender. "You're lucky you're cute."

I leaned down and kissed her, slow and careful at first—because the morning deserved a different kind of kiss than the night had been—but the feel of her woke the same hunger, only warmer, gentler. Her hands moved over my chest, fingers splayed, grounding me, and for a moment we were just two people wrapped in the afterglow, stubbornly refusing to think.

"I still can't believe you actually showed up at my door last night," I said, disbelief in my voice. The absurdity of it hit me again—Aurora, in my bed.

She tilted her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Trust me, I can't believe it either. Especially with these sheets. Nate, seriously, they feel like—what's the word? Velcro."