Nash

Two months went by at warp speed, most of which I spent leapfrogging all over the Eastern Hemisphere. China, Hong Kong, Japan, South Korea, India, Israel. My passport needed extra pages. Was I running myself ragged to avoid Eva?

Yes.

And in the hopes of forgetting about Nixie?

Hell, yes.

Not that it worked. As I analyzed dozens of companies that might offer a similar technology to NetworkTech, but without marriage-on-his-mind Mack Duncan at the helm, they were like a jumble of rocks held together by cement. Some were as dull and misshapen as gravel, and some glowed, valuable enough to be worth the hassle of drilling through the excess.

Which was exactly what my balls felt like they’d been filled with. Gravel. Swallowing a groan, I shifted in my chair.

Because a goddamn rock named Nixie was shooting off fucking fireworks, overshadowing every other woman I met.

I couldn’t cut Eva out of my life the way I had with Nixie, though. That would have meant ignoring the twins, too, which was out of the question. So I had my assistant set up visits to the Museum of Natural History and the Hayden Planetarium, and buy tickets to Disney on Ice, the Harlem Globetrotters, and every Pixar and Disney movie to hit the theaters. Any activity to decrease the opportunity for Eva and I to talk.

Tonight though, the kids had a cold and asked if I would build them a fort out of couch cushions in their living room instead. I threw myself into building the best damn pillow fort possible, reading them half a dozen books by the light of a flashlight. I was stalling, and we both knew it. But as the kids eyelids drooped, it was obvious Eva was done being patient.

Which meant—I had a problem.

I had no fucking clue what I was going to do. What was the right thing to do in this situation?

Should I get back together with my ex, the woman my brother had planned to marry, to ensure my niece and nephew had the family they deserved?

Yes.

My head had been shouting at me for two months straight. Eva was gorgeous. She was also smart and funny and kind. And a great mother. I’d loved her once.

But she wasn’t mine. Not anymore. After seeing the way she looked at Wyatt, I’d realized a long time ago that she never had been.

She wasn’t Nixie, either.

And yet . . . how could I let Eva bring another man around Madison and Parker? A man who wasn’t Wyatt. Who wasn’t me.

It made sense for us to get back together . . . even if it felt wrong.

After I carried Madison and Parker into their bedrooms, Eva was waiting for me on the couch, a wine goblet lifted in my direction. I tossed Harold and the Purple Crayon on the table and took the outstretched crystal from Eva’s hand. “Madison woke up, insisting she wasn’t tired at all.”

“She hates that you leave once she’s asleep.”

I sipped at the wine, the sour taste of guilt mingling unpleasantly with the tannins. My eyes traveled up the length of Eva’s leg to her angora sweater and finally to a pair of blue eyes as clear and direct as her daughter’s. “Eva, I—”

A frown traveled from her mouth to her forehead, dark brows pulling together and forming a shallow crease down the middle. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Analyze. Rationalize. Boil everything down to the lowest common denominator.”

“That’s what I do, Eva.”

She leaned forward, the toe of her heeled boot rubbing the back of my calf. Her tone softened. “It’s just me, Nash. Just us.”

I pushed out a heavy breath. “Okay.” Maybe Eva was right. Maybe I should stop thinking so much, forcing the details of my life into spreadsheets and pie charts.

Eva moved closer, resting her elbow on the back of the couch and leaning her cheek on her palm. A fingertip from her other hand drew an infinity sign on my thigh. “Let’s just see where this takes us.”

This. I had no idea what this was, but maybe it was time to find out. To know if what I’d felt with Nixie was a fluke. I turned my face to meet her gaze head on, unease coiling inside my stomach.

Eva’s eyes darkened slightly as she pressed her palm against my chest, her thumb stroking the base of my neck. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

There was no golden glitter dusting the bridge of Eva’s pert nose, no sunshine radiating from her eyes. She wasn’t Nixie. I blinked away the thought, the craving. “Me too,” I mumbled the lie into her ear, the tip of my nose sweeping along her smooth cheek.

She curved her hand around my neck, fingertips raking through my hair. “I’m—”

I didn’t want to hear what else she had to say. I had one thought—get to the finish line. Sex was familiar, a unifying bridge to connect two people that life and circumstance had forced apart. Maybe it could bring us back together again.

Eva’s lips weren’t as full as I wanted them to be, her taste not as sweet. But instead of pushing her away, I curved my hands around her shoulders, bringing us closer so that her breasts pressed against me. I kissed Eva deeper, searching for a key to unlock what we’d once been, my hands plowing along the curve of her skull, gathering her hair into my fists.

With a surprised gasp, Eva broke our kiss. “Let’s go to my room,” she whispered, her breath hot against my lips.

I glanced at the laptop across from me, straight into a grinning Wyatt, not much older than Parker, running through a water fountain on a scalding summer day. “Good idea.”

It was a damn shitty idea, but I wasn’t a quitter. I had to give this epic disaster in the making a fair chance. And I’d rather do it away from my brother’s unsuspecting eyes.

I hauled myself to my feet and extended a hand to pull Eva up to me. She was tall, especially in heels, the top of her head just a few inches shorter than mine. She pulled me through the living room and down the hall. Past the twins’ rooms and to her own. Wyatt had never lived here. I bought the apartment for Eva just before Madison and Parker were born, when I realized I was the closest thing to a father they would ever have.

I’d never been in Eva’s bedroom, and I was afraid her walls would be covered with pictures of Wyatt, too. But thankfully, it was too dark to see much. I closed the door behind me and spun Eva around until her back was against it. My lips were on her neck, my tongue licking her racing pulse as her hands clutched at my shirt. Her skin burned my mouth, made me wish I’d downed a tumbler full of whisky rather than two sips of wine. I wanted to be numb, my taste buds cauterized.

As my hands groped at Eva’s waist, my mind flashed to Nixie—wondering if her cut had healed, if there was a sliver of a scar marking her smooth skin. I groaned, pushing the thought away as I reached beneath Eva’s sweater, cupping her breasts within my palms. I’d never gone beyond kissing Nixie, so at least here, I couldn’t compare the two women, but the longing sent a bitter rush of anger to sizzle the back of my neck.

Eva’s nipples pebbled, her back arching against me. Abruptly I pulled my hands away, sent them sliding down her spine to cup her ass. Flat and firm, it was barely enough to squeeze. I brought her legs around my waist, striding to the bed, and lightly tossed her at its center.

Enough light came through the closed blinds to see Eva’s dark hair fanning out against the white sheets, falling over the edge like a leaf-clogged gutter instead of a blaze of fire. I jerked my shirt over my head, blocking out the sight. Throwing it into a corner of the room, I edged a knee between Eva’s spread thighs, resting my weight on hands I placed on either side of her shoulders.

“Nash,” she whispered, her arms reaching around my neck, pulling me down. For a moment, I went with it, letting gravity and pressure work their will. Eva’s lips curved into a shy smile, and it finally managed to pierce through my abandoned conscience.

I wanted Nixie’s feisty grin, her sarcastic barbs. I wanted to break though the impenetrable screen she’d been starting to lower.

I wanted Nixie.

I’d filled the past two months with workouts and failed attempts to find a woman who could make me forget her, even for just a few hours.

And now I was about to treat Eva like she was just another placeholder.

No. I couldn’t do this. Maybe Nixie was right, maybe I was a manwhore. I was cocky and arrogant and a ruthless son of a bitch. But I wasn’t cruel. At least not to family. And Eva was family.

I couldn’t fuck Eva. Not when the woman I really wanted was Nixie. And even though Nixie hated me right now, it felt as if I was cheating on her.

Eva’s hands were at the waistband of my jeans, tugging at the button, the zipper. “Eva.” I grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her sides.

She stared at me, an unreadable expression in her eyes, confusion radiating from her tense body.

I blew out an anguished sigh and released her wrists, disgusted with myself. “I can’t, Eva. I can’t do this.”

A shiver vibrated through her. “What’s wrong? I don’t . . .” Eva paused, her voice heavy with reproach. “I don’t understand.” She raised her arms to my bare chest, fingers spread. “It’s been a while, Nash. Show me what you want. I can do better.”

Her breathless plea hit me in the solar plexus. And suddenly I realized something else—all the women I’d fucked and forgotten, no matter how elegant the room service breakfast, the handwritten lie—I’d treated them like trash. And no matter what I said to Eva right now, I was doing it again. “No, Eva. No. It’s not you. It’s me.”

An unfamiliar laugh bubbled up from her throat, wry and sardonic. “It’s not you, it’s me. . . . Really, Nash?” She pushed me away. “You can’t be more original than that?”

I backed away from the bed, grabbed my shirt. “Eva, I—”

She rolled over, he voice muffled as she pressed her head into the bed. “Just go.”

I am the world’s biggest asshole. “Ev—”

She lifted her head, dark hair sliding against the curve of her neck. “Go!” she yelled, the single syllable raw and pained, an electric charge in the still air.

I backed out of the room, closed the door, and turned to walk down the hall. Just as I passed Madison’s door, it opened to reveal her round face tilted toward me. “Uncle Nash,” she said in a stage whisper. “I had a bad dream, will you lay with me?”

My heart stuttered to a stop at the sight of my niece, just until a rush of guilt kickstarted it into a heightened rhythm. “Of course.” Automatically lifting my niece into my arms, I carried her back into her canopied bed, shucking off my shoes and diving between the tulle panels.

“Uncle Nash?” The scent of her strawberry shampoo wafted up from her hair, and I dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

“Yes?” I braced myself for whatever question was knocking around her skull.

“Are you going to be my Daddy Nash one day?”

Christ. It was a whopper. “No, sweetheart. I’m always going to be your Uncle Nash. You have a daddy. He’s just in heaven right now, so you can’t see him.”

“I do see him. I see him all the time.”

My eyebrows climbed up my forehead. “You do?”

“Yes. In pictures. And on the ’puter.”

Right. The photographs on the wall, the montage on the laptop. My throat felt like it was filled with broken glass. “Right. That’s good.”

“Do you live here now?”

“No, honey. I was just . . . um, talking to your mom.”

“Okay. Mommy likes when you talk to her.”

After tonight, I wasn’t sure that would hold true. “I like talking to her, too.”

Madison gave a sleepy yawn, curling against me as her thumb crept into her mouth. “Night, Uncle Nash.”

“Goodnight, Maddie,” I gritted out, cursing the faulty decision making that had led me to Eva’s bedroom. What had I been thinking?

Once Madison’s breaths became deep and even, I slipped my arm from beneath her head and crawled out of the bed, grabbing my shoes and stepping lightly into the living room. There, I was drawn to the laptop. In the darkened room, its light was like a beacon. Pulling on my shoes, I walked over to it, letting the pictures bring up memories I’d long since forgotten. I reached out a hand, slid my fingers over the animated screen. “Goddamn it, Wyatt. If you only knew how much you were leaving behind, you’d never have let me pick up the pieces.” The anger rushed out of me and I swallowed thickly. “I miss you, buddy.”

* * *

Back in my apartment, I headed straight for the shower, turning the water to scalding and scrubbing at my skin like I’d gone for a swim in the toxic waters of the Hudson River. It didn’t do any good. I felt dirty from the inside. Steam rose up around me and I breathed in its thick vapor. After nearly half an hour, my lungs felt a little clearer but my head, not so much. I just couldn’t shake the feeling of being torn between independence and obligation, risk and responsibility.

For years Eva had been the girl that got away. Even while my brother was off being a goddamn war hero, I’d resented the hell out of him. But all that ended the day we learned Wyatt died. That was the day I stopped caring about anyone. Even Eva.

Until Madison and Parker were born. Those kids had me wrapped so far around their tiny dimpled pinkies it was almost embarrassing. A part of me lived in fear every time they were out of my sight.

I had to step up for the twins. They were my brother’s kids and if he couldn’t be here to raise them and keep them safe, I wasn’t about to let him down. But anyone else . . . no. No. No. No.

Eva wanted a father figure for her kids. Wyatt’s kids. That was supposed to be me. She wanted a man in their lives. If not me, then who?

But it was Eva’s words that haunted me. Even though you seem ready to give up on love, I’m not.

Could I love her the way she deserved? My feelings for Eva had died, years ago. Could they be rekindled? Would she ever make my nerves skip, all synapses firing on high, my dick jerking to attention the way Nixie did with one glimpse of her fiery hair swaying against her soft skin? Although, after tonight, Eva might never give me another chance—even if I wanted it.

Christ. I shrugged into jeans and a cashmere sweater, barely taking the time to smooth my wet hair back, and headed to the elevator.

What I really needed to do was get Nixie out of my head. Maybe I wanted her because she was the only woman to have turned me down in . . . I couldn’t even remember how long it had been. Or maybe I just needed to check in on her, explain the situation, and get some damn closure. Whatever was necessary—I needed to get it done. Tonight, before I lost my mind.

I emerged into the street just as Jay pulled the car up from the underground garage, and slid inside quickly. “Take me to Nixie’s place, Jay.”

His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, hesitating a minute before turning back to the road and shifting the black beast into drive. “Yes, sir.” Forty minutes later we pulled to the curb in the middle of a dark street in a shady neighborhood.

Jay pointed at the dilapidated building outside my window. “She went inside that one.”

My lips pulled into a straight line. “That one?”

“Yes, sir.”

Scowling, I took in the broken light bulb over the entrance, the crumbling steps and cracked glass. “Which apartment?”

Jay answered reluctantly. “I don’t know.”

“You didn’t walk her in?”

“I offered, but she wouldn’t let me.”

Biting back the angry retort on the tip of my tongue, I got out of the car and slammed the door behind me. A steel box, dented and chipping, hung beside the door, a grid of haphazardly written names with buttons beside each. No Rowland, or Nixie, or set of initials hinted at which button belonged to her. Before I could go through the act of pressing as many as it took for me to gain access to the building, a man that looked too close to Cauliflower Ears for my liking scurried through the door. Stepping over a black trash bag that smelled like a rotting corpse partially obstructing the doorway, I caught it before it closed.

I hadn’t grown up with a silver spoon in my mouth by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d never lived in a dump like this. Figuring I might as well start at the top, I determinedly climbed the five flights and knocked on the last door at the end of the hall. I wasn’t even sure Nixie would be home, but I’d checked the hours of the ice cream parlor where she worked and it closed at ten thirty. Since it was nearing midnight, I figured she should be home by now. Unless of course she wasn’t working there anymore. Or had stopped to see a friend, or go on a date, or . . . do just about anything in New York City. I hadn’t spoken to Nixie in nearly two months, and knew almost nothing about her, including whether or not she still lived in this building.

Fuck. Lately, it felt like my carefully ordered life was crumbling to pieces. I needed to set at least one thing straight. If she was in the building, I would find her.

And if she wasn’t . . . I’d still find her.

On my eighth attempt, an elderly woman answered my knock in a hot pink silk bathrobe and matching high heeled slippers trimmed in fur. “Hello, I’m looking for—”

“Oh, my. Good looking young men must grow on trees these days.” A cigarette hung from gnarled fingers as a cat made figure-eights through her ankles.

“Uh. Thank you—”

“Why don’t you come in? You look like you could use a drink.” She opened the door to what could have been a perfectly preserved time capsule from the nineteen-fifties. Mustard colored walls framed a lime green sofa housing several other cats. A glass coffee table held an overflowing ashtray.

“No, I can’t. I’m actually looking for a girl.”

The woman’s face darkened immediately. “There ain’t none of that business here. And a nice looking young man like yourself should be ashamed—”

I held up my hands as if I was surrendering. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m looking for someone specific. A friend. Her name is Nixie.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Pretty girl. Keeps to herself—a bit too much, if you want to know the truth. She checks on me sometimes, though. Lives one floor down. 4G.”

I could have kissed her—crusted lipstick, cigarette breath and all. Backing away from the door, I gave an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”

She leaned into the hall, bathrobe unfortunately gaping open. “Two good looking men asking after her in just one day. That should put a spring in her step.” She clucked gleefully, twirling on her heels and retreating back into her apartment.

Two? My shoes slapped the worn steps, wondering if I’d made a mistake. Maybe Nixie had given up her no-relationship stance and was seeing someone. Grinding my teeth, I knocked on the door to 4G anyway. And then I knocked again. As a last resort, I put my ear against the door. Was she in there with someone? What I heard sounded a lot like moaning. Or crying?

What the hell? I jiggled the door handle. “Nixie?” Giving it an upward nudge, it swung inward easily and I stepped inside the apartment. “Nixie?” I called out. “You okay?”

Immediately a small black dog gave a single woof and jumped off the bed, padding over to me with its tail wagging. I bent down and scratched behind its ears. “Some guard dog you are.”

From my vantage point, I spotted the source of the noise. A small speaker sat on a makeshift desk, exuding the most godawful music I’d ever heard. It sounded like a herd of cows dying. At the back of the room, a door opened and out came Nixie, still in the process of wrapping a towel around her body. Her fucking gorgeous body. One glimpse had me rock hard in an instant.

Nixie’s shriek surpassed even the sounds coming from her speaker.

I jumped to my feet, pointing at it. “I thought those sounds were coming from you. You can’t blame me for checking to make sure you weren’t being mutilated by—”

“So you broke into my apartment because I’m listening to a meditation station on Pandora?”

Meditation? Who could even think—I shook my head to clear it, choosing to ignore Nixie’s taste in music for the moment. “About that, this whole place is a break-in waiting to happen. It’s not safe here. You need to move.”

Her jaw sagged open as she stared at me, wet hair dripping into a puddle at her bare feet. “No. You know what—you need to leave. Get out!” With her free hand she pointed at the door. “Get. Out. Now.”

I hesitated. Nixie looked ridiculously adorable with her too-small towel clutched to her chest. Sure, I would leave, but not until I asked her about what the lady from upstairs had said, and convinced her to move to a safer place. “I will, but first—”

“But nothing,” she said, stomping her foot. Maybe it was the damp floor, or maybe her anger put her off balance, but in the next breath her heel kicked out from under her and Nixie crumpled into a heap on the floor.

I was at her side in a second, scooping her into my arms and heading straight for the narrow bed beneath the window, towel still on the floor.

She turned her head into my shoulder, looking at my face instead. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

I swallowed the heavy lump of desire building in my throat, letting go of her as reluctantly as a robber forfeiting his loot, my eyes skimming over Nixie’s lithe limbs and perfectly proportioned curves before forcing myself to retrieve her towel. She’d tucked her thick hair into a loose knot at the top of her head, and when I came back, I noticed that one fiery chunk had fallen, curving just under her jaw. After spreading the towel over her, I extended a hand to brush it behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the smooth warmth of her skin. My chest squeezed, blood pumping to parts of my anatomy that wanted to touch the rest of her, too. “This is getting to be a habit.”

The thick russet fringe surrounding her eyes set off their stunning topaz color as effectively as a velvet cushion. “Carrying me, or lying?” Eyes that could cut me to the quick with their no-holds-barred bluntness.

This wasn’t going as planned. The entire line of questions I’d anticipated, answers I’d prepared, were gone. “I told you, what you saw—it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Her lips twisted. “The motto of cheaters everywhere. Save it, I’m not interested.”

Nixie’s arm lifted to push me away and I grabbed her by the wrist. “Those are my brother’s kids. I’m their uncle.”

For a second, Nixie’s face registered surprise, but then suspicion crept back in. “Yeah? Well, their mother looked pretty damn cozy with you.”

I met Nixie’s accusations head on, sparks of heat radiating from her glare. “Cozy, yes. She’s family, and she’ll always be family. But we’re not . . . together.”

“So she knows you sleep with other women?”

I shoved away the memory of how I’d left Eva earlier. My response to Nixie crystalized the fact that it had been a lapse in judgment. One I wouldn’t make twice. “Eva is the mother of my niece and nephew.” I brought Nixie’s wrist to my face, turning it over to kiss the tiny patchwork of veins stitched beneath her skin. “That’s all.”

Nixie

A tiny hiss escaped my lips as Nash nibbled his way to the curve of my elbow, the angle of my shoulder. Collarbone. Neck. Earlobe. Jaw. Stopping an inch away from my mouth, his warm breath tickled my lips like a cinnamon-scented breeze. A sweet temptation.

I opened my mouth, intending to say something, anything. No. Stop. Get off me. Any or all of the above. Instead, the only thing that poked out of my lips was my tongue, desperate for a taste of Nash. In the instant before his head dipped, his mouth covering mine, I caught a flash of his sultry smile. It should have been enough to get me to shove at his shoulders, or turn my face away.

But it wasn’t.

This wouldn’t end well. Couldn’t end well. I knew this, but at the moment, I wasn’t sure I cared. It had been two months since I’d laid eyes on Nash, and I absorbed his presence like a drought-ravaged field in a rainstorm. Living the way I’d been living, on my own with no close ties to anyone or anything, except the dog Nash had given me, I was ripe for sexual contact. Not necessarily with just anyone. But with Nash, absolutely, yes.

My arousal was like a drug, an opiate or a tranquilizer, singing through my veins and weighing down my limbs. A drug so powerful, surrender was inevitable.

As our tongues slid together, the network of nerve endings just beneath the surface of my skin came alive. Already squirming with pleasure at Nash’s weight above me, they danced and cheered at his touch.

He groaned my name and it cascaded down my spine like pure, warm maple syrup, fresh from the tap. Breaking apart from Nash for a second, I pulled the scent of him into my lungs, holding my breath and trapping it there until my chest vibrated with need.

Oxygen. Nash. I wanted both, needed both. Desperately

Which was exactly why I had to stop this madness before it went any further.

But I didn’t.

Instead I reached for the back of Nash’s neck with one hand, plunging my fingers through his still damp hair. Tugging at his wrist with my other hand, I slid his palm along my ribs until he cupped my breast. “Yes,” I whimpered, the antonym of the word blaring in my brain.

My nipples hardened, Nash squeezing the pulsing nubs between his thumb and forefinger. Streaks of white hot color raced against the back of my eyelids like shooting stars as I arched my spine. His mouth left mine, his lips and tongue forging a wet path down my neck, punctuated with bites that alternated between tender and turbulent. The pulsing between my legs that started out slow became faster, desperate. My knees edged apart, needing to feel Nash between them. But even as I rubbed the soles of my feet along Nash’s powerful thighs, wrapping my ankles around his hips and drawing him into me, it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be full, filled. By Nash.

I was already panting, and when his mouth closed around my breast, a hungry squeal shot from my throat. Instinctively rocking my hips, I could feel the hard length of him pressing against me through his jeans. “Off,” I moaned, pawing at his sweater, at the band of his jeans. Craving his naked skin next to mine.

“Not yet,” Nash whispered, shifting onto his elbow and moving one of his legs to the side.

I moaned at the decrease in his weight, gripping his shoulders and trying to keep him above me.

“Shhh,” he whispered against my neck. “I’m going to crush you.”

“I don’t c—”

My protest was cut off by another kiss, this one long and lingering. But I realized why Nash had moved. With his weight on his elbow, he trailed his fingertips from the edge of my hairline, down my cheek and chin, tender touches sweeping along my breasts and ribcage, dipping into the well of my belly button, the subtle ridge of my hipbone. Moving lower.

His long fingers stroked my thighs, feather light touches that had me squirming beneath him. The heartbeat between my legs growing more insistent and emphatic with each one. Words clogged in the back of my throat—the same one over and over until it became a silent chant. Please, please, please, please, please.

Finally, as if he’d heard me, the tips of his fingers swept at the outer edges of the most intimate part of me, now wet and wanting. Closer and closer until they were pulled inside by my heat. My hips bucked upward and Nash smiled against my mouth. “Needy Nixie.”

Yes. I was. Out of my mind with need.

His fingers pierced me, his thumb finding my swollen bud. Delicious beads of tension were pried from my center as a shiver of excited anticipation vibrated through my entire body, ending on a guttural moan. The sound was like nothing I’d ever heard, certainly not from me, and my eyes flew open. Nash’s intense expression filled my field of vision, green eyes glowing with lust, his mouth hard with intention. He wanted me every bit as much as I wanted him.

The realization was like a slap to my face, the sharp sting clearing away the haze of excuses I was feeding myself. This couldn’t go any further. No matter how good Nash made me feel, the man could eat me alive and still pick up a tart from a downtown bar for dessert. And it was at that moment that I felt a rush of sensation, like being swept along a fragile raft toward a waterfall. So close, I was paralyzed from the shock of it looming toward me. I was swept up in it, every muscle tense and poised for the inevitable fall. And I did fall, but even that was different too. Like all the times before had been merely reading about gravity from a textbook, while Nash had actually brought me to the ledge—and sent me soaring, tumbling. Falling.

I have no idea how long it took to catch my breath. Could have been the blink of an eye or an hour. But when I did, Nash was still there. Looking like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. As if my orgasm had been powerful enough for two. Maybe it was.

Pushing at Nash’s shoulders, I scrambled out from beneath him, clutching my towel to my chest. “I can’t do this.”

Aristocratic brows lifted. “I think you just did.”

How could I have allowed myself to become intimate with someone who didn’t believe in intimacy? It went against every instinct for self-preservation I had.

Nash made me want things. Things I wasn’t sure even existed anymore. Things maybe I didn’t deserve, but I wanted them anyway. Yearned for them.

That flying-high feeling of loving and being loved in return. The comfort of knowing there was at least one person in my life who had my back, and that the feeling was mutual. Communication driven by respect, fueled by trust.

Was Nash capable of a relationship like that? Probably not. Would he even value it if he was? Definitely not.

Nash was the kind of man who could make me lose sight of everything I knew I wanted, just for the pulse-pounding excitement of being in his arms. His shoulders were so broad, his grin so damn blinding—being around Nash blocked everything I’d learned from my relationship with Derrick. Those lessons had come at such a high cost, I couldn’t afford to forget a single one.

And now my arms were shaking from the effort of forcing Nash off of me. My whole body was shaking. Not because he was so heavy, or because I was weak. But because it physically hurt to push him away when all I wanted to do was hold him close. I just wanted to wrap my arms around Nash’s solid shoulders and hold on tight.

Not knowing where to look, I watched the slow bob of Nash’s throat as he swallowed, bracing myself for his anger. What I got was a heavy sigh that rumbled from his chest. “You sure?”

“Yes.” But I wish I wasn’t.

He dipped his head in a nod. “We’re still not finished, Nixie.”

This time I knew better than to argue.