THREE

Eden

I woke up the next morning, Nash’s hands still tattooed on my skin. I’d tossed and turned all night thinking about him, his lips, his body against mine. The way he’d touched me, and with just a few words, made me come so hard. The only time I’d ever come that hard, even close to it, was dreaming about his hands on me all those years ago. My hand slipped between my own thighs couldn't have done justice to the real thing, though.

The way he’d claimed my body, ran his lips and his hands up every inch of my skin was like wearing his brand.

And then the whole situation had taken a drastic turn for the worse when my brother had called.

That one little phone call, and suddenly a night that seemed so promising had dissolved into dust.

Nash and Colt had had a quick phone conversation, during which Colt had talked with me for a few minutes before the phone had begun to break up. He was set to fly out to Germany, and then the Middle East in the morning. I was proud of him. My brother had spent a lot of years wandering aimlessly, always looking for something to fill him, especially after my mom had passed. When he'd joined the military, he'd finally found his calling. Once he realized what his purpose was, he was much happier; I could see it on his face, hear it in his voice.

So when I’d hung up with Colt, I’d been surprised to find Nash had already stalked off into the house without me.

I rounded, trailing up after him into the house, before we started wordlessly pulling out plates and utensils for dinner. One silent meal later and I’d returned to my room for the night, alone.

That phone call was like a cloud hanging over us, and I wasn't sure if Nash had pulled back out of some twisted sense of obligation. But I was a grown woman, able to make her own choices, and I chose Nash. God, did I choose Nash. I’d been dreaming about Nash’s lips pressed to mine since the time I was eleven. Of course, I wanted this. I wanted him.

He’d even admitted to wanting me, at least back then, and it sure felt like he was interested now. But the cold shoulder he’d suddenly given me last night was irritating to say the least. No way was I going to battle my brother and Nash; he had to start seeing me as the woman I was and not just as his buddy’s little sister.

The thoughts and the memory of Nash’s hands on my body followed me the whole morning as I put away clothes, picked up the house, and bided my time until Nash came in for lunch.

I bit down on my bottom lip, digging through the fridge, looking for something to prepare us when a thought came into my head. I grinned, slipping my panties down my thighs quickly and shoving them in the pocket of my dress before I heard Nash’s heavy boot steps on the porch.

A bright smile lit my lips when the loud creak of the farm door on its hinges alerted me to his presence.

“Hi.” I spun, a bowl of pasta salad I’d found in the fridge in hand. “Hungry?”

His eyes shot up and down my body, hovering on the swell of my breasts. Just the heat of his gaze had my nipples pebbling, aching for his fingertips, his teeth, his anything.

“Starved,” he gritted out, then headed for the kitchen sink where he washed his hands.

I brushed against his body when I pulled plates down, glasses and silverware next, as I worked around the kitchen. He stood there, his big body eating up all the space and swallowing the oxygen. Shit, I almost felt faint being in his presence, all the blood in my body rushing between my thighs.

Nash reached for a loaf of bread before I snagged it from him. “Sit. You’ve been working all morning.”

His eyes nailed mine, something hard lingering before he nodded and plopped down in a worn kitchen chair. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and turned around to the fridge, bending over and digging in the back for a bowl of chicken salad I’d seen earlier. A soft breeze whooshed my dress around my thighs, sending a shiver through me and reminding me how I’d had the stupid, stupid idea of taking my panties off in the hopes of getting his attention.

What was I thinking? I suddenly felt like that silly little girl. The only thing missing was the pigtails, and I would feel like an eight-year-old, crushing on her older brother’s best friend.

I scooped a bag of grapes into my arms just as a pair of heavy hands landed on my thighs, shoving my dress over my ass and exposing me.

“What are you—”

“Where the fuck are your panties?” His growl sent rockets of arousal straight to my pussy.

I stood, unsure of what to reply, my only thought how much I loved the way his callused fingers scraped across every nerve, chugging pleasure through my bloodstream like a drug.

“Is this what you wanted? My attention?” He dipped his thumb through my soaked lips, running up to the clit and swirling.

I caught my lip in my teeth, holding in a groan when his other hand landed a heavy smack on my ass. “Ow!”

“You want someone to see this pretty pink pussy of yours, Eden? Is that what you want?” He pressed his thumb between my lips, breaching my entrance in slow strokes. “Answer me.”

I couldn’t speak with his hands eating up my body, the way his breath washed across my skin, the memory of his rock-hard cock tenting his dusty jeans. Oh God, I wanted him so badly I couldn’t form a single thought.

“Do you want someone else to see how wet your cunt drips for me?”

I shook my head, tongue lodged in my throat as his thumb pressed deeper, hooking inside me and thrumming against my body.

“Just the thought of anyone else seeing this soaked little pussy makes me mad, Eden. Really fucking mad.” He thrust me against him, his cock sandwiched between my ass cheeks as he dragged me across the kitchen, pushing my dress over my shoulders, and leaving me standing there naked and exposed to his gaze.

His eyes washed up and down my skin, flaring when they landed on my pert little nipples. I’d skipped the bra this morning too. He shook his head once, making a point of licking his lips, grabbing a chair and seating himself in it, eyes intense like a man on a mission. Before I knew what was happening, he was pushing me over his knee.

His palms spread wide on my back, one holding me down with force just as the other landed on my ass. A crash echoed across the kitchen, and I squealed. Pain and pleasure burst through my system, my pussy gushing with arousal, as another smack landed on my other cheek. God, I loved it, the pain and pleasure mixing, the rush of adrenaline, being bent and at his mercy making me feel so small, so his.

I loved being his.

He rubbed away the sting from his hand before landing another smack on the bottom of my ass. Then he moved closer and struck my pussy, dipping a thumb into my cunt and swirling it around my ass before spanking me again. My hips worked back and forth, my body chasing the orgasm I knew only he could give.

“Look at you riding my hand, your pretty ass in the air for me just like it should be.” His heavy voice tore through my very soul, splintering my reason and replacing it with cold, hard desperation.

“More, God, more,” I pleaded.

“God, baby, I think you were put here to torture me.”

My heart swelled with his words, my mind foggy as he sank a finger inside me, fucking me until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only feel.

“Fuck my hand, beautiful. Show me how hot this makes you.” His words dragged across my ears just as another slap landed across my pussy, and I came in violent waves. Shaking and whimpering and out of my mind intoxicated with him, I fell under.

I hadn’t known what to expect coming here to live with Nash, but it wasn’t this. This was so much better, he was so much better.

I sighed, limbs hanging heavily, when he chuckled softly and hoisted me up in his lap. I wrapped my legs around his waist instantly, my hands in his hair as his lips trailed across my neck. His teeth tracked across my collarbone, his tongue whispering up the line of my throat before landing on my lips.

“Gotta get back out there, Eden.” There was a soft edge to his voice.

Jesus, how could he hold me like this, and then be so…cold?

I nodded, forcing back a lump in my throat before pushing away to get dressed.

He caught me with his arms then, eyes peering into mine, speaking things he apparently couldn't say with words.

“Arms up,” he said tenderly, fingers whispering up the underside of my arms as he slid my dress back down over my head and shoulders and tightened the straps.

I still couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t form a word, because something about the way he was touching me right now felt less like adulation and more like obligation.

“Thanks.” I interrupted his fussing and stood, escaping across the kitchen and turning away to look out the window.

I swallowed the lump in my throat again, prepared to hoist my head in the air and sit right down and enjoy a lunch with him if that’s what it took. But I turned around to find him already halfway out the door, the creaking hinges my only goodbye.

I gritted my teeth, eyes narrowed as I watched him walk across the dusty yard and down to the horse paddock. Crossing my arms and leaning against the doorjamb, eyes never leaving the broad cut of his shoulders, I murmured, “Gorgeous, complicated, moody wannabe cowboy.”

He turned then, glancing back to the house, gaze catching mine for a moment. He placed a hand on his cowboy hat and tipped it to me, eyes hanging on mine for long beats. I smiled softly, giving him a wave.

Nash Campbell. The boy of my dreams, the man of my fantasies, and my brother’s best friend.

I wasn’t sure if this could be any more complicated, but watching him watching me right now made everything worth it.