Anything Between Us (Starving Artists Book 3)

by Mila Ferrera

  And with that knowledge, he decided it would be better for him to leave. I would be selfish to try to stop him now. I angle my head up and open my eyes. The sun is filtering through the open blinds, glinting off golden stubble along his jaw. He’s breathing slow and deep, his face relaxed. He looks so young, so perfect.

  My eyes trace the curl of hair against his temple. Inside that mind resides a wisdom and intellect that’s far from boyish or childish. He’s seen terrible things. He’s had to be strong and disciplined in a way I don’t understand. He understands sacrifice. He understands duty. And he understands me.

  It’s Thanksgiving, and I feel thankful for this. And Nate. I will carry last night and this morning with me forever. Long after my mind has buried the memory in a thicket of tangled brain cells, far out of my reach, I think I’ll still feel the stamp of it on my heart.

  “How are you?” he whispers.

  I gasp at the sound of his voice, then laugh. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I’ve been awake for a while. Just lying here.” His eyes are still closed, but now his mouth curves in a gorgeous smile. “Savoring this.”

  I press my forehead against his shoulder. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

  “It’s honest.”

  “I don’t know how you do that. I don’t think I deserve it.”

  “You want me to lie and say it doesn’t mean anything to me?” His blue eyes open and find me.

  “No.” I did that. I thought I was protecting us. But now I understand what a coward that made me. “I was savoring it, too. And already missing you.”

  He takes a deep breath and cups my head with his hand. “We’re here now.”

  “You’re headed to your parents’ house today?”

  “Mm-hmm. My dad’s making his first attempt at a turkey. And stuffing. We’ll see how that goes.”

  “How’s your mom?”

  “She’s all right. We’re taking it day by day.”

  I stare at the wall. I’ve been so focused on my own life that I hadn’t really stopped to process the fact that there is a real possibility Nate could lose his mom. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

  “I’m not going through it alone. My dad is right there, and so is Daniel. And my mom knows we have each other. I think it eases her mind, no matter what happens.” He’s gazing up at the ceiling. “Doesn’t mean I want to lose her anytime soon.”

  There’s nothing to say to that, so I stroke his cheek and feel it with him.

  “You’re going to Cathy’s?” he asks.

  “I’m taking my dad. I couldn’t stand for him to be alone in that place, no matter how good the food is or how nice the aquarium is.”

  “It is pretty cool,” he comments.

  I lift my head. “Why did you want to visit him?”

  “Because I like him, Sasha. And, I’ll admit, it made me feel closer to you, if only for a little while. He kicked my ass in checkers, by the way.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. He’s still pretty good.”

  “How did you know I was there?”

  “It’s Nate, sir. I’m Nate, sir,” I say. “Now everyone on the unit knows your name.”

  “I told him how I felt about you.” He chuckles. “He said you were stubborn.”

  It brings a smile to my face, knowing Dad was even able to bring me to mind. “I guess he’s right.”

  “You guess?” Nate rolls his eyes. “And I guess the sky is blue.”

  We lie there for a few more minutes, just breathing. And then I destroy the silence with the question I can’t hold inside anymore. “What are we going to do?”

  Last night was all about the moment. One singular moment between him and me, isolated and enclosed. Now we have to step back into the world and our separate lives.

  “What do you want, Sasha?”

  “I don’t want you to go,” I blurt out. “I know it’s selfish. I know I shouldn’t try to stop you. I know you have a bright future and it could be happy—”

  “Stop telling me all the reasons I should go,” he says, tilting my chin up. “Give me a reason to stay.”

  “I’m in love with you, and I want you here.”

  A slow smile crosses his face, and it’s like the sunrise, subtle at first and then blinding in its brilliance. He brings my mouth to his, parting my lips, kissing me breathless. I feel every stroke of his tongue like lightning on my skin, electrifying every cell, winding desire tighter with every second. I scoot up and descend on him, ravenous with need and joy and adoration. My hands find his hair, his face. My fingers stroke along the smooth expanse of his cheekbone, the rough scrape of his cheek.

  When I feel the warmth of his palm slip under my shirt and press the small of my back, I sit up and nearly tear the fabric as I pull it off. His blue eyes drink me in, and I feel like a goddess again, all the more so because this amazing man wants me as much as I want him.

  I straddle him, leaning down to capture his mouth again as he unhooks my bra. His hands on me are salvation and demand. He groans as I press myself down against the hard length of his erection. Desperate for his skin, I tug his shirt off so I can admire the cut of his muscles beneath the coarse scattering of dark blond hair across his chest, descending in a narrow trail down his stomach.

  “I love it when you look at me like that,” he says, holding my hips.

  “I can’t help but look at you like this,” I murmur as I kiss his neck and nip at the ridge of his collarbone. I’m glad he can see it. I want him to know. I don’t want him to ever forget.

  His fingers slip around to the button of my pants, and within a few frenzied minutes, we’re down to our underwear, and I’m frantic for him. But as I slide my hand into his boxer briefs, his fingers close over my wrist. “We did this without protection last time. And while that was, to be frank, incredibly awesome, I don’t think—”

  “I’ve got us covered,” I tell him. “I’ve still got them in my bag.”

  “Oh, thank God,” he moans, releasing my wrist and guiding my hand, closing my fingers around him as I laugh.

  After a few more minutes, when we’re both half-crazy with desire, I climb off him and grab what we need from my purse.

  “Stop right there,” he says as I approach, his eyes skating over me. “Just let me look at you.”

  “That’s what you want to do right now?”

  He props himself up on an elbow. “It’s Thanksgiving. I’m making a list of all the things I’m thankful for.”

  “Let me guess. You’re up to two.” His eyes are riveted to my breasts.

  “I’m having trouble remembering how to count any higher than that,” he mumbles. “So you’d better get over here.”

  As soon as I’m within reach, he pulls me to him, sets me on fire with his tongue, and draws a nipple between his teeth, sending shivers rippling across my skin. His fingers caress my thighs and venture beneath the damp fabric of my panties, finding the place where I need him most, teasing. His other hand slides down my arm and finds my hand—and the condom clutched in my sweaty grip.

  I snatch it back. “You’re mine.”

  “I am that,” he says with a sigh as I slide the condom down his length.

  My fingertips graze his cheek. “But I’m yours, Nate. I hope you know that, too.”

  He takes my face in his hands and draws my lips to his again. I feel the sharp edge of his joy, the fierce pull of his happiness. I understand it in my bones, because I’m right there with him.

  Then it seems that something inside him snaps. There’s a ripping sound, and my panties slide down one leg as he guides himself into me. I exhale as he pushes himself deep, his hands bruising on my hips. It’s all-consuming. With him inside me, I can’t think of anything but the sensation, the thunder of his heart, the swell of our mingled breaths.

  Why was I going to deny us this? Why on earth did it ever seem worth it?

  Nate was right. I was so scared of being hurt that I wasn’t even going to live the life I’ve still g
ot. So scared to be left that I wasn’t willing to fight for the life I desperately want. But in his arms, feeling him in every cell of my body, I know that fighting is exactly what I have to do. Because he’s worth it. And I’m worth it. And together, we’re something more. So much more.

  I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know how long I have to figure it out. I think I’ll have to make the decision every single day, maybe every moment—I have to let myself be loved, and seen, and known. I have to offer my heart and trust that he’ll keep it safe. I have to be worthy of doing that for him, which feels like a privilege I’m still not sure I deserve. But like he said, neither of us know how this ends. Nobody can know. The only thing we can do is live every day in the best way we can manage.

  I can’t think of any better way than this. Nate’s skin is molten beneath my hands. His muscles are steely and trembling. He’s looking up at me in this dazed way that tells me he’s lost in this, lost in me. He’s holding me so tightly that I know he won’t let me go. He’s the anchor keeping me in this moment, just like he was last night. Safe in that knowledge, I let myself fall, the pleasure pulling me under its crashing waves.

  EPILOGUE

  Nate

  The air is heavy with the promise of snow as we get out of Daniel’s car, our breaths puffing white. He and Stella open the trunk and pull out the thermos of hot cider, along with a bag of leftover Christmas cookies, supplies for our impromptu skating party.

  I grab my skates from the trunk and hold out my hand. When Sasha takes it, I can’t help but smile. “You ready to show me your moves?” she asks.

  I laugh. “Moves? I’m so full I can barely move at all.”

  She tugs her own skates off the backseat. “We all need to burn off a few calories after that dinner.”

  Daniel closes the trunk. “Dad outdid himself. His meatballs are next-level at this point.”

  “He’ll get his day of rest tomorrow,” Stella says. “As long as you guys are ready to pull your weight.” Her eyes narrow as she stares Daniel down.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks. “I’m just your assistant. Yours to command.” He winks at her, and she grins.

  Sasha squeezes my hand. “Nate and I are all set. We got all the ingredients today.”

  The four of us are making Christmas dinner for my parents tomorrow so that both of them can take it easy. Sasha and I are handling the salad, potatoes, and a creamed spinach dish that she claims will blow my mind even though I’ve avoided spinach ever since I was old enough to say the word no. Daniel and Stella are doing the popovers, the dessert, and the ham. And because Stella is Stella, she’s also making everyone Christmas breakfast. After we do stockings and gifts and have our first and second feasts of the day with my parents, it’ll be off to Riverside Manor to pick up Tom before heading to Cathy and Bob’s for yet another holiday celebration. The schedule has been crammed with stuff we needed to do, errands to be run, gifts to be wrapped. And the day after Christmas, we head down to Kalamazoo, where I will have the pleasure of meeting Sasha’s mother for the first time. Sasha seems a little tense about it.

  But me, I couldn’t be happier. All this mundane stuff, all this running around, and all these family commitments add up to magic for me, even though the anniversary of the attack is coming up right after the New Year. Sasha and I have already planned to return to Elkhart and visit with Sam’s family—and I expect it to be rough. But I also know I’ll get through it. I’ll be able to honor his memory without falling apart. It’s just one more thing I’m grateful for. There are so many lately, not least of which is the woman at my side.

  We all trudge across the frosted grass toward the pond, the place where I first learned to skate. Sasha’s fingers are laced with mine. Her dark eyes shine as the ice comes into view, lit in a buttery yellow glow from the nearby streetlights.

  At the pond’s edge, we all lace up our skates. Somehow, despite being born and raised in Michigan, Stella’s never skated before, so Daniel has his hands full even keeping her upright. Sasha, on the other hand, seems to know what she’s doing. Tom taught her to skate when she was little, and though she didn’t spend all her winters practically living on the ice like Daniel and I did when we were younger, she looks comfortable.

  And, more importantly, she looks happy. Her cheeks are pink as we glide across the pond, and the sight stirs an intense longing inside of me. “So,” she says. “I was talking to Caleb yesterday. Has Daniel told you about what he’s doing?”

  I shake my head. “What’s up?”

  “He’s going to propose to Romy. With a painting.” She says this right as we cruise past Daniel and Stella.

  “It’s supposed to be a secret,” Daniel reminds her as he keeps his arm coiled around Stella’s waist to prevent her from sliding to the ice like a newborn colt. She’s really that awkward.

  “Only from Romy,” Sasha says. “I thought it was incredibly romantic.”

  “It’s nice to see him happy,” I say. When we were in high school, it was obvious he’d been through hell and that it wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

  “He deserves it, I think,” she says. “Romy, too.”

  I turn to her, taking both her hands and gliding backwards. The flakes have started to come down, and they’re sparkling in her raven hair and on her eyelashes. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

  She tilts her head. “Are you okay?”

  I pull her toward me and wrap my arms around her waist. “Sometimes I want to freeze time and stop everything in a perfect moment.”

  Her fingertips brush my cheek. “Is this perfect?”

  “About as close as you can get. I’m here with you.”

  “Is that all it takes?”

  “I’m not a complicated guy.” I kiss her forehead. “What about you?”

  “I’ve had so many perfect moments in the past month. More than I ever thought I could.”

  Like I have so many times lately, I have to keep myself from promising her more. It’s not just that things will never be perfect, because that’s life. It’s that we agreed we wouldn’t do that—on Thanksgiving morning, when she told me she wanted me to stay, and when I told her I’d already decided I wasn’t going anywhere, we made a pact. We agreed to focus on what we have now, and each day as it comes. We don’t focus on the future, or we try not to. It puts too much pressure on the now. We don’t make promises. Not yet, at least.

  Well. Not out loud. I sort of cheat in my head. Like right now. As Sasha turns her face to the sky and closes her eyes, letting the snowflakes kiss her smooth skin, I feel so much love for her that I can’t keep it in. I spin her around, and she shrieks and laughs until I silence her with a kiss.

  “Get a room,” Daniel shouts.

  I ignore him; all I care about right now is the taste of Sasha’s smile. After a few more seconds, she takes my face in her hands. “What was that about?” she asks, breathless and flushed.

  “Nothing,” I tell her, grinning. “Just enjoying this moment with you.”

  Because I know: I wouldn’t trade it for a hundred years with anyone else.

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  STANDALONE NOVELS IN THE STARVING ARTIST SERIES

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  SARAH FINE

  SARAH FINE is the author of several books for teens, including Of Metal and Wishes (McElderry/Simon & Schuster) and its sequel, Of Dreams and Rust, the bestselling Guards of the Shadowlands YA urban fantasy series (Skyscape/Amazon Children’s Publishing), and The Impostor Queen (McElderry, January 2016).

  She is also the co-author (with Walter Jury) of two YA sci-fi thrillers published by Putnam/Penguin: Scan and its sequel Burn. Her bestselling adult urban fantasy romance series, Servants of Fate, includes Marked, Claimed, and Fated, and was published by 47North in 2015, and her second adult UF series —Reliquary (and its sequels Splinter and Mosaic) was published 2016. When she’s not writing, she’s psychologizing. Sometimes she
does both at the same time. The results are unpredictable.

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