Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me Chapter 67

I think I gasp or squeak—whatever sound I make, Nathan’s lips muffle it.

At first, I press my hands against his chest, trying to push him away. I don’t want this—I don’t want him scrambling my mind and making me lose all my inhibitions with his drugging kiss.

But when Nathan doesn’t budge, instead deepening the kiss, my weak as fuck resolve melts, and so do I.

I wrap my arms around him, holding on tight because it doesn’t matter what I just said. The thought of leaving, of being away from Nathan after coming so close, shatters my heart into a million pieces.

Nathan splays a hand against my back, smooshing our bodies together. I can feel his heart pounding wildly against my chest, and I know he can feel mine, too.

This kiss is unlike the one we shared in my room. It’s not slow or hesitant or sweet. It’s fierce and hungry and fills me with a heat that threatens to burn me from the inside out.

I can feel Nathan’s frustrations from the way his lips move against mine, the way his tongue powerfully dances with mine, the strength in his arms as he holds me tight against him.

My frustrations manifest in another way—in the ache pooling deep in my belly, in the electricity sparking through my veins, in the heat of my blood.

Thankfully, the garden sprinklers are more than happy to help with the last one.

I yelp as I feel a sharp, cold spray of water hit my back. The surprise also makes Nathan release me as the sprinklers come on around the garden pavilion, drenching both of us in seconds.

I shut my eyes instinctively as a spray of water hits me smack in the face.

“Water from above, and now, water from below,” Nathan says with a sigh. “I guess you and I are just destined to get drenched when we’re together.”

I don’t know where the laugh comes from, but it soothes the ache in my chest as it flows through, coming out of my mouth in sharp spurts, till I’m full-on chortling as the sprinklers bathe Nathan and me.

His hand slips through mine, and I turn to him, opening one eye to appraise him. His hair is damp, flopping against his forehead endearingly.

“Come on,” he whispers, tugging me along.

Feeling weak from the force of emotions I just expressed and the sizzling kiss we just shared, I let Nathan pull me along.

He doesn’t lead me through the front door I came out of. Instead, we pass the adjacent entrance, which I passed to head to the infirmary.

I don’t know how long I spent outside crying and cursing out Nathan, but it must have been a while because the house is silent when we enter, like everyone has retired to bed.

Nathan doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk into the hall, leaving wet trails in our wake. I let him hold me, if only because this is the last time and the feeling of my hand in his is one of my favorite things in the world.

When we reach the hallway with the stairs leading to the east and west wings, I head to the east wing without a backward glance. I don’t think I can say goodbye.

Saying goodbye to Nathan Ashford might wreck me.

As I move, however, Nathan still doesn’t let go of my hand and instead tugs me back.

I turn to look at him, then. His lips are pressed tightly together, and his eyes hold so much intense emotion that my pulse quickens just by looking into them.

“Please,” he whispers.

“What more do you want?” I sigh.

“A chance to explain,” he answers. “Properly.”

“Does it matter?”

He nods vehemently.

“So where—”

I pause when I see him glance towards the west wing.

“The west wing is out of bounds for co—” I sigh and shake my head. “I guess that doesn’t apply to me anymore.” 

Still, I hesitate. “I need to…I shouldn’t—” I sigh again. “June will be worried that I haven’t come to the room.”

Nathan tugs gently, and I let myself be pulled into his arms. He gently brushes aside a lock of wet hair. “I can’t—” His voice breaks, and *my* heart breaks at the sound. “I can’t let you go—not like this.”

His green eyes are a tumultuous sea that threatens to drown me, and suddenly, nothing else matters.

Because, despite how hurt and betrayed I feel, I can’t let him go either—not like this.

“Okay?” I whisper.

“Okay?” he repeats hopefully.

I nod.

A soft, relieved smile pulls his lips to the side, and he takes my hand, leading me up the stairs to the forbidden west wing.

My heart pounds as we climb, and when we reach the hallway, I feel like one of the doors will open and reveal an Ashford family member yelling at me for trespassing.

That doesn’t happen, though, and Nathan stops in front of a door almost at the end of the hallway.

I can’t help the soft gasp that escapes me when I enter Nathan’s room.

For starters, it’s bigger than my entire apartment. There’s a huge king-sized bed in the middle of the room that looks like if I sank into it, I’d never be able to get up. Framing the bed on either side are two large floor-to-ceiling windows with dark green drapes.

I don’t know how, since this isn’t the last floor, but the ceiling is vaulted and arched with black wood paneling. The entire room is a mix of dark green and black, giving it a moody yet elegant atmosphere.

There’s a seating area to the far side of the room with sophisticated armchairs and couches, which I doubt Nathan has ever sat in.

To the other end is a professional-looking gaming set-up with separate RGB ambient lighting. I count three massive screens in front of a premium gaming chair.

I suddenly feel small. *This* is what Nathan’s room looks like, and I made him sleep in my shabby room with the creaky fan. And now I’m dripping all over his plush carpet.

“Here.” Nathan’s soft voice pulls me out of my mind before I sink further into self-consciousness.

I turn to see him holding out a towel on top of a folded t-shirt and shorts.

“You could just give me my sweatshirt,” I mumble as I take the clothes.

He offers me a small smile. “I thought we were both starting a collection.”

I swallow hard, remembering the jacket I left behind in my room. The thought of going home to that one reminder, knowing it’s over, makes tears brim in my eyes.

I gesture to the clothes. “Wh-where can I change?”

“Right. Through there.” Nathan points to the open doors to his—of course—walk-in closet.

As the door closes behind me, I take in a breath, inhaling Nathan’s scent, which fills the room. The closet is twice the size of my room and arranged immaculately. I don’t know if Nathan is neat or his maid is very thorough.

As I strip out of my damp clothes, I try not to think about the conversation waiting for me outside. And about the fact that no matter how it ends, I’m still eliminated.

Just as I pull the plain black t-shirt over my head, something against the closet's back wall catches my attention.

I frown, stepping closer to get a better look.

It’s a bright blue satin box with a pink bow. It’s the only item positioned on the only shelf on the wall—like a trophy.

Familiarity niggles me the closer I get, and when it’s right in front of me, my eyes widen.

No. Fucking. Way.

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