Play Smart: An Enemies to Lovers Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Work For It Book 5), page 26
“Exclusive rights to Kansas?” Chad guesses. “Fine. But not a single inch west of Wichita.”
“What? No,” Grant says, then covers his mouth. He widens his eyes at Pete who clears his throat.
“Sorry, I have a cold,” Pete says, lowering his voice for some reason. “No,” he repeats. “That’s not what we want. We want… the…” He squints at his phone. “Pop-tart?”
Grant looks pissed and continues typing furiously.
Pete studies his screen. “Oh! Wait no. It says pop-up. Autocorrect fail, sorry. It said Pop-tart,” he hisses at Grant, who waves him quiet.
“You want a Pop-tart or a pop-up?” Chad asks.
“Pop-up. I mean… hold on.”
He leans toward Grant and whispers something. Grant whispers back, now looking very skeptical that this is about to go how he wants it to.
Pete clears his throat. “Send us the special disk to get rid of the scary pop-up thingys!”
Huh. Okay. Is that how ransomware works? I guess this is what happens when you don’t include IT in your kidnapping plots.
“Hey, boss? I don’t think it’s really a, um, disk thing,” one of the guards calls over.
Grant looks at him, then back to his laptop, then back to him.
“What is it then?” he snaps.
“I think you need a code. Something that will unlock the screen. They don’t really do disks anymore.”
Grant studies his screen again.
“Fine. Ask him for that then,” he barks at Pete.
“It’s seven,” Chad blurts out.
What?!
“You’re supposed to wait until after I’m freed to give them the code,” I grunt.
“It’s not seven,” Pete says when Grant waves at his laptop screen in frustration.
No shit.
“I don’t actually know the code,” Chad says. “Paige did that part.”
“Who’s Paige?” Pete asks.
Oh my god. Chad is the absolute worst spy ever.
“No one,” I say, my blood pressure rising. I’m probably also the first hostage more desperate to get my rescuer off the phone than on it. “Hey, Chad? Thanks for your help, dude. I’ve got it from here.”
“Who’s Paige?” Pete asks again.
“No, no. We’ve got your back,” Chad assures me. “No way we’re letting them cut off your ear or whatever. Did you tell them about Larinda?”
Oh fuck.
Grant lasers a look at me. Larinda? he mouths.
“Okay, fine!” I say. “I will tell you everything, just please hang up the damn phone.” Before Chad gets us all killed for real. I don’t even know how. Maybe they’ll choke us on chapstick and guitar picks, but either way, I need to get him out of the conversation.
“Everything?” Grant whispers. “You’ll tell us everything?”
“Yes!”
Grant and Pete study each other for a moment before Grant nods. Pete reaches over and presses the button, and the phone goes gloriously dead.
“Now talk,” Grant says.
“Can I see the computer?” I ask, motioning toward his laptop.
Grant hesitates for a second before shoving it toward me. Good, because if I’m going to talk I’ll have to find something to talk about. The second I see the screen, though, I breathe a sigh of relief. In fact, it’s everything I can do not to burst out laughing. This can’t be real.
“You better not be bluffing,” Grant warns.
I’m not. I don’t have to.
I stare at the “scary pop-up” and roll my eyes. Nate is such an idiot. A brilliant, hilarious idiot. I have no doubt he’s involved, probably at the request of Marcos. In fact, it’s kind of a given since, framed in a frightening red flashing box is the message:
“Give us six billion ‘Renos’ or this computer will be STRIPPED.”
The second I’m back on the sidewalk with my freedom and my belongings, I call for a ride, text Marcos to let him know I’m okay, and dial Paige.
She answers immediately, and all the anxiety from the last hour of captivity melts at the sound of her voice.
“Nash! I was so scared. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”
“I’m fine. They just let me go. I’m grabbing a ride back to the hotel now. Where are you?”
“Oh, thank god.”
Is she crying?
“I’m, um, at the hotel too,” she says, sniffing. “I didn’t want to leave you when I found out what happened, but Marcos said it would be more dangerous if I was there and they got me too. He and Eva told me to go back and wait for you. They said Sandeke would handle it, but when I found out Reedweather put Chad in charge, I was really scared.”
Yep. Fair.
“Um, so that part wasn’t great. But once I got him off the phone things went smoother. I’ll tell you the whole story when I get back. We need to get my room key situation worked out as well.”
“Already done. Reedweather called in with the company credit card information and they gave us a key to your room. Six, actually.”
“Six?”
“Yeah, by the end of the conversation I don’t think the desk clerk had a clue how many people were in the room. He just handed me a pile of keys and a brochure for a horseback riding excursion.”
My brain is too exhausted to solve that one. “Great. Thanks for handling that. And the rest of the mission. Ransomware? Genius.”
“It wasn’t an actual virus. Well, not a lethal one.”
“I know,” I say with a chuckle. “Nate helped you, huh.”
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess. Anyway, I’ll tell you the rest in person. It kind of worked out perfectly. As soon as I get back, I’ll meet you at your room to get the key and—”
“No, go straight to your room. You’re probably tired and hungry. I’ll order some food and meet you there. Then you can eat and relax. I’m so sorry, Nash. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. I felt so helpless when I found out they took you. I couldn’t… I mean…”
She breaks into tears, and crap. All I want to do is hold her right now.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I’m fine. It all worked out, I promise. Just sit tight and I’ll be there before you know it.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “Nash?”
“Yeah?”
“I have to tell you something. I should have said it before, but… Nash, I can’t do this back-and-forth thing with you anymore.”
Wow. Seriously? I haven’t been through enough today? I don’t think my worn spirit can handle another blow at the moment.
The green Toyota Highlander I’ve been waiting for shows up, and I wave it down.
“Hey, my ride just got here. I’ll be at the hotel in twenty minutes and we can talk in person.”
“No! Wait, I—”
“You Nash?” the guy calls.
“Yep. You Lloyd?”
He nods, and I move toward the SUV. “I gotta run. I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”
I feel like shit when I hang up, but getting my heart shattered has to be easier in the comfort of a hotel room with air conditioning and a full stomach than alone on the street after escaping a hostage situation.
“You in L.A. for business or pleasure?” Lloyd asks as we pull into the street.
“Neither,” I mumble.
20—HOPING
PAIGE
He blew me off. Legit hung up when I was about to pour my heart out. I’m trying not to be mad, though. I mean, the guy did just get kidnapped and held hostage and heaven knows what else. But still…
The next half hour is brutal. I go to the café on the second floor to grab some sandwiches and snacks, then make my way to Nash’s room to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
By the time I hear a small knock, all the drama has faded, and I rush to the door.
“Thank god,” I say, throwing my arms around Nash and dragging him into the room.
He hugs me back, and we let the door clatter closed behind us. I settle against his chest, relishing the sound of his beating heart. They say you never realize what you have until you lose it. In this case, I realized what I didn’t have when I lost it.
“I want to date you,” I blurt out.
He tenses in surprise, and I hold on tighter. “Sorry. I know. You have a million other things to worry about right now, but that’s what I wanted to say on the phone. I want to be your girlfriend for real. I know it makes no sense, but I don’t care. A lot of the best things in life make no sense.”
I finally allow myself a breath and brace for his response. Sure I’m scared. There’s a very real possibility he doesn’t feel the same. That he’s about to break my heart and say I’m being ridiculous. But that fear is nothing compared to what I felt a couple of hours ago when I thought something might have happened to him. When I thought this, right here, might never be possible.
I’d rather get rejected than never have the opportunity to have my heart broken.
With a deep exhale, I pull back to search his face, ready for anything. I’m brave and strong, and all those things I value about myself are the very things that will help me overcome even the biggest obstacles and worst fails. Our strengths aren’t meant to prevent us from falling, but help us back up when we do. If Nash says no, I’ll be sad, but I’ll be okay. I will hurt, but I’ll recover. I will eventually move on, having learned something and evolving in a way that will better prepare me for the next challenge. But if I didn’t take the risk, I’d never know if—
“Weren’t we already dating?”
I freeze and stare into his beautiful, exasperating face. “What?”
“You said going to seven or eight specific locations with someone and doing more than kissing is dating. I’m pretty sure by that definition we’re more than official at this point.”
“Yeah, but… I mean, you…” He shrugs, and a familiar wrath burns in my gut. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?” he asks, totally oblivious.
“That’s it? That’s your grand romantic gesture? I’ve been torturing myself for days over asking you out and you thought we were dating this whole time?”
“Not this whole time. I mean, not until this morning, I guess.”
“Oh my—I can’t believe this!”
I push away from him and throw up my hands.
“Wait. Why are you mad at me again?”
“I’m not mad at you!” I say, glaring at him.
“You seem pretty mad.”
“I’m mad at… gah!”
“So you don’t want to be a couple?” he asks, looking so annoyingly perfect with those stupid perfect eyes and that stupid perfect mouth and oh my gosh, I could scream.
“Yes! Of course, I want to be a couple.”
“Okay, but—”
I cut him off with a kiss. And another. And another. Soon we’re backing toward the bathroom where clothes start flying and faucets start running. Steam billows—no, mushrooms—around us as I shove him toward the glass door of the stall and tear at the button on his jeans.
“Are we doing this in the shower?” he asks as I force his pants down.
He reaches for the clasp on my bra, and I don’t even care that we’re not completely naked when I push him under the water.
“No. We’re doing that on the bed. We’re playing in the shower first because you’ve just been through hell, and I’m freezing from the ridiculous air conditioning in this place.”
His grin is too much. I’ve waited too long and I just… have to taste it. Devour and consume it as I pull his mouth to mine. He tastes like the mint gum I both love and hate. He feels like a dream that’s a hundred times better than any fantasy. Who needs roses and candles when you have wet boxer-briefs molded to a hard ridge you lose sleep over?
I run my palm along it now, finally enjoying the thick heat of him freely and fully. No one to interfere or stop me from reaching inside to grip his length in slow steady strokes that have him metaphorically on his knees and literally in the palm of my hand. He groans into our kiss when I rub my thumb over the hot tip, and I know, I just know, sex with him will be worth the wait.
I let go to reach around his waist and pull him into me. He cups my breasts, massaging with increasing pressure as my hips writhe against him, silently begging for more. He pinches my nipples before replacing his fingers with his tongue, and I arch into his mouth. The heat. The exquisite suction. The all-consuming fire of his closeness…
“Nash,” I breathe out.
He doesn’t respond with words, but I know he understands when he lifts my thigh to thrust direct, glorious friction against my entrance. I gasp at the rush, the sensation of his hard heat pushing and grinding into my screaming body.
More, more! it’s pleading, but it’s not just my body this time.
The rumble of his soft laugh vibrates against my throat.
“Patience,” he says. “That’s the second part, right?”
Crap. Yeah. Condoms and responsible sex and all that. Grr.
“Fine…” I mutter.
“Hey, I’m only following your instructions.”
“Don’t be an asshole."
“Would you even like me if I wasn’t?”
I shut him up with another kiss, this one violent and filled with all the things I want to do to him. All that I want from him. He counters with a confident tongue that makes me burn when he tugs my head back and takes over the kiss. Rocking against me, he drives our rhythm until I’m completely lost in the cadence of his seduction. I love that he’s equally secure with either role. Give or take. Push or pull. I love that he loves that I am too.
We’re still locked together, our hips moving in sync at a torturous cadence. It’s not nearly enough which makes it so deliciously unsatisfying. Like so many other things with this man, there is something weirdly hot about our simulation through thin, wet fabric. It’s just the right amount of too-much and not-enough to make my core flare with frustrated heat and remind me that things with Nash will always be different than I expect. Fresh and new and free of the assumptions I’m so used to bowing to.
“I want to be inside you,” he groans, thrusting hard into me.
I gasp and arch back against the cool tile at the sharp rush of pleasure. “I want that too.”
“How much longer is this part supposed to be?”
“Um. I don’t know. I didn’t plan that out.”
“Can we be done then?”
I grip his wet hair and tug his face toward me. “Can we be done? Did you really just say that?”
“What? You don’t want more?”
“Of course I do. I want everything. I want you to fuck me so hard someone calls security.”
That smirk. “So what’s the problem?”
“Nothing!”
“There’s obviously a problem.”
This argument would be so much easier if my entire body wasn’t on fire from what he’s still doing to it with his hips and his mouth and his hands and ah!
“You’re an artist,” I say. “A poet! Shouldn’t there be, I don’t know, poetry involved?”
“You want poetry right now? You’re the one who’s always ripping my clothes off and shoving me into things.”
He’s not wrong.
“Fine. Whatever.”
I pull his head down and kiss him again. And again because ugh. I hate that he’s right. Once I’m kissing him I forget about all the romantic crap I’m supposed to want. Do I want it? Maybe a little, but it’s fine. It won’t matter once I let this fire consume me and give in to my body’s craving for his. I don’t need pretty words to appreciate all that he is.
His lips rest against my ear, and at first I’m not sure it’s even words I’m hearing against the backdrop of pounding shower water. But when the familiar rasp of his voice reverberates throughout my entire being, I close my eyes and dissolve into the sound.
“Not a trace of the pain remains when you say my name with those soft lips that breathe my favorite air, those bright eyes that stare at my every flaw and still claw for a shred of my shattered soul worth saving.
“You’ll never know all the times I cried and died a little more inside, because I can’t remember the pain in the frame of your face blocking out the shadows.
“You’ll never see the broken boy who barely survived and learned to hide, because he doesn’t exist when he’s in your sun.
“He’s the one too absorbed by your light, the only reason he might… finally, finally, be okay.”
Oh my god.
Tears drip down my cheeks as I pull him into me and hold on with everything I have. Everything I am and won’t be afraid to be if this resilient, courageous spirit is beside me. Maybe it makes no sense, but then so many of the things that make sense in my life aren’t worth a grain of salt. There’s a whole world out there waiting for me when I’m brave enough to find it too.
“Hey, Nash?”
“Huh?” he says softly.
I smile at his perfect (and hoped for) response to my question. “I kind of love our rapport.”
News flash: Sex is better than rapport.
My entire body is on fire as I sink onto him, impaling myself until I feel every thick inch of him inside me. He takes a sharp breath, his eyes flaring hot and looking every bit as consumed when I brace my palms on his chest and start to move.
“Fuck,” he exhales. “Why are you so perfect?”
I smile and lean down for a deep kiss before resuming my rhythm. Low heat grinds into tiny sparks with each sway of my hips, each movement triggering another piercing burst of sensation. He grips my thighs and matches my pace, pushing further until the tingling sparks become surges of open flame. I didn’t think it could feel like this, like there’s an immanent explosion coming that might be too intense for my body to handle.
“Has anyone ever died of an orgasm?” I gasp out.
He smirks, but I might.
He feels so incredible, and the blaze is becoming intolerable. My body arches back as I absorb it, rush after rush after painful rush. I need more. I can’t take more. But I need it. Want it. Everything. Right now.
He abruptly flips me over and drives into me, fueling the blasts of pleasure into small explosions. Stars pulse with every thrust. My toes curl, my body tenses and…
“What? No,” Grant says, then covers his mouth. He widens his eyes at Pete who clears his throat.
“Sorry, I have a cold,” Pete says, lowering his voice for some reason. “No,” he repeats. “That’s not what we want. We want… the…” He squints at his phone. “Pop-tart?”
Grant looks pissed and continues typing furiously.
Pete studies his screen. “Oh! Wait no. It says pop-up. Autocorrect fail, sorry. It said Pop-tart,” he hisses at Grant, who waves him quiet.
“You want a Pop-tart or a pop-up?” Chad asks.
“Pop-up. I mean… hold on.”
He leans toward Grant and whispers something. Grant whispers back, now looking very skeptical that this is about to go how he wants it to.
Pete clears his throat. “Send us the special disk to get rid of the scary pop-up thingys!”
Huh. Okay. Is that how ransomware works? I guess this is what happens when you don’t include IT in your kidnapping plots.
“Hey, boss? I don’t think it’s really a, um, disk thing,” one of the guards calls over.
Grant looks at him, then back to his laptop, then back to him.
“What is it then?” he snaps.
“I think you need a code. Something that will unlock the screen. They don’t really do disks anymore.”
Grant studies his screen again.
“Fine. Ask him for that then,” he barks at Pete.
“It’s seven,” Chad blurts out.
What?!
“You’re supposed to wait until after I’m freed to give them the code,” I grunt.
“It’s not seven,” Pete says when Grant waves at his laptop screen in frustration.
No shit.
“I don’t actually know the code,” Chad says. “Paige did that part.”
“Who’s Paige?” Pete asks.
Oh my god. Chad is the absolute worst spy ever.
“No one,” I say, my blood pressure rising. I’m probably also the first hostage more desperate to get my rescuer off the phone than on it. “Hey, Chad? Thanks for your help, dude. I’ve got it from here.”
“Who’s Paige?” Pete asks again.
“No, no. We’ve got your back,” Chad assures me. “No way we’re letting them cut off your ear or whatever. Did you tell them about Larinda?”
Oh fuck.
Grant lasers a look at me. Larinda? he mouths.
“Okay, fine!” I say. “I will tell you everything, just please hang up the damn phone.” Before Chad gets us all killed for real. I don’t even know how. Maybe they’ll choke us on chapstick and guitar picks, but either way, I need to get him out of the conversation.
“Everything?” Grant whispers. “You’ll tell us everything?”
“Yes!”
Grant and Pete study each other for a moment before Grant nods. Pete reaches over and presses the button, and the phone goes gloriously dead.
“Now talk,” Grant says.
“Can I see the computer?” I ask, motioning toward his laptop.
Grant hesitates for a second before shoving it toward me. Good, because if I’m going to talk I’ll have to find something to talk about. The second I see the screen, though, I breathe a sigh of relief. In fact, it’s everything I can do not to burst out laughing. This can’t be real.
“You better not be bluffing,” Grant warns.
I’m not. I don’t have to.
I stare at the “scary pop-up” and roll my eyes. Nate is such an idiot. A brilliant, hilarious idiot. I have no doubt he’s involved, probably at the request of Marcos. In fact, it’s kind of a given since, framed in a frightening red flashing box is the message:
“Give us six billion ‘Renos’ or this computer will be STRIPPED.”
The second I’m back on the sidewalk with my freedom and my belongings, I call for a ride, text Marcos to let him know I’m okay, and dial Paige.
She answers immediately, and all the anxiety from the last hour of captivity melts at the sound of her voice.
“Nash! I was so scared. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay!”
“I’m fine. They just let me go. I’m grabbing a ride back to the hotel now. Where are you?”
“Oh, thank god.”
Is she crying?
“I’m, um, at the hotel too,” she says, sniffing. “I didn’t want to leave you when I found out what happened, but Marcos said it would be more dangerous if I was there and they got me too. He and Eva told me to go back and wait for you. They said Sandeke would handle it, but when I found out Reedweather put Chad in charge, I was really scared.”
Yep. Fair.
“Um, so that part wasn’t great. But once I got him off the phone things went smoother. I’ll tell you the whole story when I get back. We need to get my room key situation worked out as well.”
“Already done. Reedweather called in with the company credit card information and they gave us a key to your room. Six, actually.”
“Six?”
“Yeah, by the end of the conversation I don’t think the desk clerk had a clue how many people were in the room. He just handed me a pile of keys and a brochure for a horseback riding excursion.”
My brain is too exhausted to solve that one. “Great. Thanks for handling that. And the rest of the mission. Ransomware? Genius.”
“It wasn’t an actual virus. Well, not a lethal one.”
“I know,” I say with a chuckle. “Nate helped you, huh.”
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess. Anyway, I’ll tell you the rest in person. It kind of worked out perfectly. As soon as I get back, I’ll meet you at your room to get the key and—”
“No, go straight to your room. You’re probably tired and hungry. I’ll order some food and meet you there. Then you can eat and relax. I’m so sorry, Nash. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. I felt so helpless when I found out they took you. I couldn’t… I mean…”
She breaks into tears, and crap. All I want to do is hold her right now.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I’m fine. It all worked out, I promise. Just sit tight and I’ll be there before you know it.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “Nash?”
“Yeah?”
“I have to tell you something. I should have said it before, but… Nash, I can’t do this back-and-forth thing with you anymore.”
Wow. Seriously? I haven’t been through enough today? I don’t think my worn spirit can handle another blow at the moment.
The green Toyota Highlander I’ve been waiting for shows up, and I wave it down.
“Hey, my ride just got here. I’ll be at the hotel in twenty minutes and we can talk in person.”
“No! Wait, I—”
“You Nash?” the guy calls.
“Yep. You Lloyd?”
He nods, and I move toward the SUV. “I gotta run. I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”
I feel like shit when I hang up, but getting my heart shattered has to be easier in the comfort of a hotel room with air conditioning and a full stomach than alone on the street after escaping a hostage situation.
“You in L.A. for business or pleasure?” Lloyd asks as we pull into the street.
“Neither,” I mumble.
20—HOPING
PAIGE
He blew me off. Legit hung up when I was about to pour my heart out. I’m trying not to be mad, though. I mean, the guy did just get kidnapped and held hostage and heaven knows what else. But still…
The next half hour is brutal. I go to the café on the second floor to grab some sandwiches and snacks, then make my way to Nash’s room to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
By the time I hear a small knock, all the drama has faded, and I rush to the door.
“Thank god,” I say, throwing my arms around Nash and dragging him into the room.
He hugs me back, and we let the door clatter closed behind us. I settle against his chest, relishing the sound of his beating heart. They say you never realize what you have until you lose it. In this case, I realized what I didn’t have when I lost it.
“I want to date you,” I blurt out.
He tenses in surprise, and I hold on tighter. “Sorry. I know. You have a million other things to worry about right now, but that’s what I wanted to say on the phone. I want to be your girlfriend for real. I know it makes no sense, but I don’t care. A lot of the best things in life make no sense.”
I finally allow myself a breath and brace for his response. Sure I’m scared. There’s a very real possibility he doesn’t feel the same. That he’s about to break my heart and say I’m being ridiculous. But that fear is nothing compared to what I felt a couple of hours ago when I thought something might have happened to him. When I thought this, right here, might never be possible.
I’d rather get rejected than never have the opportunity to have my heart broken.
With a deep exhale, I pull back to search his face, ready for anything. I’m brave and strong, and all those things I value about myself are the very things that will help me overcome even the biggest obstacles and worst fails. Our strengths aren’t meant to prevent us from falling, but help us back up when we do. If Nash says no, I’ll be sad, but I’ll be okay. I will hurt, but I’ll recover. I will eventually move on, having learned something and evolving in a way that will better prepare me for the next challenge. But if I didn’t take the risk, I’d never know if—
“Weren’t we already dating?”
I freeze and stare into his beautiful, exasperating face. “What?”
“You said going to seven or eight specific locations with someone and doing more than kissing is dating. I’m pretty sure by that definition we’re more than official at this point.”
“Yeah, but… I mean, you…” He shrugs, and a familiar wrath burns in my gut. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?” he asks, totally oblivious.
“That’s it? That’s your grand romantic gesture? I’ve been torturing myself for days over asking you out and you thought we were dating this whole time?”
“Not this whole time. I mean, not until this morning, I guess.”
“Oh my—I can’t believe this!”
I push away from him and throw up my hands.
“Wait. Why are you mad at me again?”
“I’m not mad at you!” I say, glaring at him.
“You seem pretty mad.”
“I’m mad at… gah!”
“So you don’t want to be a couple?” he asks, looking so annoyingly perfect with those stupid perfect eyes and that stupid perfect mouth and oh my gosh, I could scream.
“Yes! Of course, I want to be a couple.”
“Okay, but—”
I cut him off with a kiss. And another. And another. Soon we’re backing toward the bathroom where clothes start flying and faucets start running. Steam billows—no, mushrooms—around us as I shove him toward the glass door of the stall and tear at the button on his jeans.
“Are we doing this in the shower?” he asks as I force his pants down.
He reaches for the clasp on my bra, and I don’t even care that we’re not completely naked when I push him under the water.
“No. We’re doing that on the bed. We’re playing in the shower first because you’ve just been through hell, and I’m freezing from the ridiculous air conditioning in this place.”
His grin is too much. I’ve waited too long and I just… have to taste it. Devour and consume it as I pull his mouth to mine. He tastes like the mint gum I both love and hate. He feels like a dream that’s a hundred times better than any fantasy. Who needs roses and candles when you have wet boxer-briefs molded to a hard ridge you lose sleep over?
I run my palm along it now, finally enjoying the thick heat of him freely and fully. No one to interfere or stop me from reaching inside to grip his length in slow steady strokes that have him metaphorically on his knees and literally in the palm of my hand. He groans into our kiss when I rub my thumb over the hot tip, and I know, I just know, sex with him will be worth the wait.
I let go to reach around his waist and pull him into me. He cups my breasts, massaging with increasing pressure as my hips writhe against him, silently begging for more. He pinches my nipples before replacing his fingers with his tongue, and I arch into his mouth. The heat. The exquisite suction. The all-consuming fire of his closeness…
“Nash,” I breathe out.
He doesn’t respond with words, but I know he understands when he lifts my thigh to thrust direct, glorious friction against my entrance. I gasp at the rush, the sensation of his hard heat pushing and grinding into my screaming body.
More, more! it’s pleading, but it’s not just my body this time.
The rumble of his soft laugh vibrates against my throat.
“Patience,” he says. “That’s the second part, right?”
Crap. Yeah. Condoms and responsible sex and all that. Grr.
“Fine…” I mutter.
“Hey, I’m only following your instructions.”
“Don’t be an asshole."
“Would you even like me if I wasn’t?”
I shut him up with another kiss, this one violent and filled with all the things I want to do to him. All that I want from him. He counters with a confident tongue that makes me burn when he tugs my head back and takes over the kiss. Rocking against me, he drives our rhythm until I’m completely lost in the cadence of his seduction. I love that he’s equally secure with either role. Give or take. Push or pull. I love that he loves that I am too.
We’re still locked together, our hips moving in sync at a torturous cadence. It’s not nearly enough which makes it so deliciously unsatisfying. Like so many other things with this man, there is something weirdly hot about our simulation through thin, wet fabric. It’s just the right amount of too-much and not-enough to make my core flare with frustrated heat and remind me that things with Nash will always be different than I expect. Fresh and new and free of the assumptions I’m so used to bowing to.
“I want to be inside you,” he groans, thrusting hard into me.
I gasp and arch back against the cool tile at the sharp rush of pleasure. “I want that too.”
“How much longer is this part supposed to be?”
“Um. I don’t know. I didn’t plan that out.”
“Can we be done then?”
I grip his wet hair and tug his face toward me. “Can we be done? Did you really just say that?”
“What? You don’t want more?”
“Of course I do. I want everything. I want you to fuck me so hard someone calls security.”
That smirk. “So what’s the problem?”
“Nothing!”
“There’s obviously a problem.”
This argument would be so much easier if my entire body wasn’t on fire from what he’s still doing to it with his hips and his mouth and his hands and ah!
“You’re an artist,” I say. “A poet! Shouldn’t there be, I don’t know, poetry involved?”
“You want poetry right now? You’re the one who’s always ripping my clothes off and shoving me into things.”
He’s not wrong.
“Fine. Whatever.”
I pull his head down and kiss him again. And again because ugh. I hate that he’s right. Once I’m kissing him I forget about all the romantic crap I’m supposed to want. Do I want it? Maybe a little, but it’s fine. It won’t matter once I let this fire consume me and give in to my body’s craving for his. I don’t need pretty words to appreciate all that he is.
His lips rest against my ear, and at first I’m not sure it’s even words I’m hearing against the backdrop of pounding shower water. But when the familiar rasp of his voice reverberates throughout my entire being, I close my eyes and dissolve into the sound.
“Not a trace of the pain remains when you say my name with those soft lips that breathe my favorite air, those bright eyes that stare at my every flaw and still claw for a shred of my shattered soul worth saving.
“You’ll never know all the times I cried and died a little more inside, because I can’t remember the pain in the frame of your face blocking out the shadows.
“You’ll never see the broken boy who barely survived and learned to hide, because he doesn’t exist when he’s in your sun.
“He’s the one too absorbed by your light, the only reason he might… finally, finally, be okay.”
Oh my god.
Tears drip down my cheeks as I pull him into me and hold on with everything I have. Everything I am and won’t be afraid to be if this resilient, courageous spirit is beside me. Maybe it makes no sense, but then so many of the things that make sense in my life aren’t worth a grain of salt. There’s a whole world out there waiting for me when I’m brave enough to find it too.
“Hey, Nash?”
“Huh?” he says softly.
I smile at his perfect (and hoped for) response to my question. “I kind of love our rapport.”
News flash: Sex is better than rapport.
My entire body is on fire as I sink onto him, impaling myself until I feel every thick inch of him inside me. He takes a sharp breath, his eyes flaring hot and looking every bit as consumed when I brace my palms on his chest and start to move.
“Fuck,” he exhales. “Why are you so perfect?”
I smile and lean down for a deep kiss before resuming my rhythm. Low heat grinds into tiny sparks with each sway of my hips, each movement triggering another piercing burst of sensation. He grips my thighs and matches my pace, pushing further until the tingling sparks become surges of open flame. I didn’t think it could feel like this, like there’s an immanent explosion coming that might be too intense for my body to handle.
“Has anyone ever died of an orgasm?” I gasp out.
He smirks, but I might.
He feels so incredible, and the blaze is becoming intolerable. My body arches back as I absorb it, rush after rush after painful rush. I need more. I can’t take more. But I need it. Want it. Everything. Right now.
He abruptly flips me over and drives into me, fueling the blasts of pleasure into small explosions. Stars pulse with every thrust. My toes curl, my body tenses and…
