CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AINSLEY

I‘ve been close to the Amaryllis family for a while now, but it never ceases to amaze me how they can shut down an entire block. The local police added extra patrols to support the security team. I opted to stay behind and come in with the crew instead of leaving with the band, even though Carly asked me to join them. It just didn’t feel right…

I admit part of me had hoped Nash would ask me again when I tried to talk to him earlier. I don’t blame him for not asking me again. I probably wouldn’t have asked me, either; especially not after the conversation we had last week.

That didn’t go well.

I swallow the nerves attacking me as I reach to open the restaurant door and take the first step inside. They turned the lights in the front of the building down to give the illusion it’s closed. I flash my VIP badge and my Vax Card to the hostess, who responds by motioning for me to follow her back to where the rest of the crew is. Nash is sitting in the back with a few of their team members whose names I can’t remember right now.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to stare?” Carly says through a giggle as she surprises me and takes the seat beside me.

“It’s hard.” I throw my head back and let out a deep groan. “It’s so hard.”

She leans back in her chair and motions for Nash. He sees her and hops up.

“Damn it, Carly.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to keep myself from losing it in front of everyone.

Just before Nash reaches the table she stands up, leaning over to whisper in my ear, “Trust yourself.” She gives me a quick hug and then motions for Nash to take her seat, which he does without a second of hesitation, which also means I have zero time to calm the raging thoughts clouding my mind.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he starts, but I cut him off, holding my hand up.

“I shouldn’t have tried to talk to you before the show. That was terrible timing.”

He shrugs and rocks the chair back on two legs. “I’m glad you did.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he snickers. “Really.” I can tell he’s nervous because he’s rolling his thumb across the barbwire engraved band of the heavy metal ring that’s always perched on his index finger. I noticed that habit of his for the first time just before the rooftop performance. He was on the phone with the producer and started fiddling with it. It wasn’t hard to tell his nerves were getting the best of him then, either.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk before a show,” I tease, suddenly finding my confidence again. It’s something in his eyes that brings me to life every single time I look at him.

He leans over in his chair, letting his mouth brush my ear. “I’m ready to throw the rules out the window, if you are.” His voice dropped so low it vibrated my ear drum.

I didn’t know I needed that in my life. Now, I know. Learn something new every day, right?

“What did you want to talk about, earlier?” he asks, forcing me out of my fantasies about his mouth and everything it could do to my body.

“I… uh…” What was it I had wanted to say? “I think I just wanted to tell you I was an idiot and I’m sorry.”

“What?” he lets out a booming guffaw that echoes through the entire restaurant. “You are not an idiot.”

“I just can’t…” Okay, I can do this. Just as I open my mouth to tell him everything, including that I’m ready to trust in the possibilities and give this a chance I see the one person in this world I had hoped I’d never see again making his way across the floor heading right for our table.

“Stone,” Nash growls, kicking the chair out from under him as he stands to face him. “You’re not welcome here.”

He snorts and waves his hand in front of Nash. “The funny thing about being famous is you can get people to do whatever the hell you want them to.” He nods back toward the front door. “Just like that, hostess. All I had to do was give her my hotel room’s number, and she was more than happy to let me in.” He reaches around Nash’s body and lets his hand slide down my shoulder. Nash knocks his hand down just as it grazes past my chest.

Stone stumbles on his feet.

“Don’t touch me,” I say, looking him straight in the eye, which seems to catch him off-guard. He’s used to intimidating me.

“Ainsley, you know you and I aren’t over.”

Nash glances back to me with a confused look on his face. Stone seizes the opportunity, landing a punch square over Nash’s right eye while his focus is on me and not the waste of oxygen in front of him. Nash grits his teeth as he slowly turns back to face Stone, wiping his forearm over the now bleeding gash on his face.

“Stone, stop it!” I step between the two of them just as Nash goes to take a step toward Stone. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I can’t let Nash get hurt just because he’s near me. That’s the same thing that happened to my sister. “What do you want, Stone?” I ask, turning around to face him with my back pressed up against Nash. The body heat is rolling off him and I can only imagine the rage that must be boiling out through his eyes right now.

“I want you, Ainsley.” Stone’s lips curl up in a taunting smirk as he glances up at Nash’s expression.

I shake my head no as Nash’s hand lets go of mine. “Whatever you and I had—it’s been over for a long time.”

A fire flashes in Nash’s eyes. It’s one I haven’t seen from him before as both of his hands ball into fists at his sides. My nerves boil to a head inside of me until I’m shaking. I’m not looking forward to the conversation Nash and I will have later.

A sneer crosses Stone’s face, making him look even more sinister. “You remember what happened the last time you denied me, right?” He traces his disgusting finger down my jaw line. “I will destroy your life in any way I can to make sure I get what I want.”

I slap his hand away before Nash can. “You don’t have that kind of power anymore, Stone.”

“I guess I’ll just have to get to you the old-fashioned way,” he says with that slimy tone that makes my blood run cold as he reaches out with one hand and tries to grab hold of me, but before he can touch me Nash grabs his arm twisting it behind his back, which makes Stone squeal like a little girl.

“Nash, stop. This is what he wants.” I grab Nash’s arm and try to pull it off Stone.

Nash pushes me to the side with one arm, while holding Stone in place with the other. Once I’m clear he turns loose of Stone and waits. The impatient weasel can’t resist the opening and lunges forward with his fist balled up going straight for Nash’s face. Nash reaches out with an open hand blocking the punch while grabbing Stone’s fist. He marches forward, with Stone’s fist still caught in his hand, and shoves Stone backwards into the bar. Barstools collapse under Stone’s weight taking him to the floor with them.

He scrambles to his feet and tries one last time taking a swing at Nash. Nash dodges to the side, leaving Stone hitting the empty air giving Nash the perfect angle. He grabs the back of Stone’s shirt and throws him to the floor, climbing on top of him, landing punch after punch in Stone’s face—at close range.

“Ease up!” Griffin yells, grabbing Nash’s left arm as Adair grabs the other. Together, they try to pull Nash off Stone just as the police barrel into the room.

One of the uniformed officers grabs the back of Griffin’s shirt and hauls him backwards. The next grabs Adair by looping their arms through his and yanking him back, so the third can get to Nash; pulling him off Stone, whose face is almost unrecognizable from the amount of blood.

The three brothers each stand with their hands in front of them signaling their compliance, while Stone flops around on the floor making a bigger ass of himself. “Do you have any idea who I am?” he spits out with blood still staining his teeth.

“These ladies are willing to give a statement,” one officer says to another who seems to be in charge. London and Carly follow both of them to a booth where I’m sure they’re relaying their account of everything that just happened. Poor Carly. Stone is always putting her through hell. “Can I talk to him?” I ask the cop, who apparently tasked with guarding Nash.

He shakes his head. “You’ll need to wait until they get the statements, and we figure out what happened here.”

“Well, I was the one that piece of hot garbage was attempting to assault. They,” I wave my finger toward Griffin, Adair, and especially Nash, “were only defending me.”

“Are you willing to put that on the record?” he asks.

Nash’s eyes meet mine. They’re full of questions, but he doesn’t say a word.

I nod and try to make myself look as confident as possible in front of the officer, even though every part of me is freaking out on the inside. “Of course, I am.”

He motions in the air as a signal for his partner to come over. They whisper something amongst themselves and then his partner walks over, stopping right in front of me. “I’m Officer Brown. My partner told me you’d like to give a statement.”

“Yes.”

She nods and motions for me to follow her to a booth on the opposite side of the room from where Carly and London are still giving their report. She scribbles something on her pad and then turns it toward me. “Just write your full name, address, a statement that you are over the age of eighteen and then a brief but detailed account of what happened.”

My fingers quake as I reach for the pad. “I’ve never had to write one of these before.” The officers who questioned me at the hospital just asked a bunch of questions, which I answered into a voice recorder. “What do I say?”

“Just explain how you know the parties involved and what happened. Only the facts.”

“Like a medical report?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugs. “But I would say it’s probably similar.”

I can handle that. Once I’ve written everything, I believe will be important, I turn the pad around and slide it back to her across the tabletop. “I think that’s everything.”

She reads over it, then offers me a card. “You’ll be able to get a copy in two business days. Call this number and they’ll instruct you on how to pick one up if you’d like to keep it for your records.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to be interested in pressing formal charges?” she asks.

I nod. “Yes, I am.”

“Someone from the D.A.’s office will contact you at the number you gave in the report. Tell them everything you’ve told us here and they’ll take it from there.” She hops up from her seat and takes the report to the officer in charge. After a minute or so of discussion between them, the one in charge waves his hand in the air, causing the other officers around the Miller brothers to drop their guard and let them go. The two officers tasked with Stone wrap his hands around his back and slap handcuffs on him. “You’re under arrest,” the female officer says. Her partner reads him his rights as they shove him through the side door of the restaurant and out to their squad car.

“Can we talk?” I ask, grabbing Nash by the arm to stop him before he walks through the exit door.

He nods and turns around so he’s facing me. The blood is still seeping out of the large, nasty gash above his eye. One of the officers walks up just as I’m about to tell him everything. “We’ve got a medic here. Would you like them to look at that for you?”

Nash shakes his head. “No. I’m fine, thank you.”

The officer tilts his head, turning around on his heel. “Your call.”

“That looks like it’s pretty deep. We need to get it cleaned and dressed.”

He shakes his head no. “I don’t like hospitals. No offense.”

“No one likes hospitals. Not even the people who work there.”

“I’m fine.”

“It would make me feel better. I have supplies at my house. No hospital required,” I say, holding my hands up. “Promise.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh and nods; just barely, but that’s enough.

“C’mon. I’m parked around the corner.”

The night air rushes against my skin making me shiver as soon as we step through the door. “Here,” he says, sliding his leather jacket off and wrapping it around my shoulders. It’s warm against the bare skin of my arms. It also smells like a mixture of sweat and cologne, which I like more than I care to admit. “I think my blood pressure is still high enough to keep me warm for a minute,” he says, with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Thank you.” I hold up one arm to indicate the jacket and the sleeve swallows my hand, making it disappear inside.

“It might be a little big for you,” he admits.

I like having the warmth from him completely encompassing me, even if it’s only from his jacket. “I should have been honest with you about my history with Stone.”

“You didn’t owe me an explanation then and you don’t owe me one now.”

Then why do I feel like I do? “The patient I told you about…”

“The one who got your sister into trouble?”

I nod.

“I already knew.”

“How?”

“Carly.”

Ugh. “Of course.”

“She didn’t tell me on purpose. I was there when Stone got caught and I just overheard things, then when you told me about your side on the way to McAlester the other day…” He shrugs. “I just kind of put two-and-two together.”

“We didn’t have a real relationship like he made it sound.”

His face is expressionless, except for the brooding thing… “Everyone has a past,” he shrugs.

“But not everyone has a past with your Stone Thompson.”

“Why would that matter?”

“It just seems like maybe it might things… difficult.”

He cuts his eyes in my direction. “Why?”

I hold up one finger at a time, ticking off items like a checklist as I name them. “Because he used to play in your band, then got kicked out for being the giant pile of steaming garbage he is, and then London replaced him, which pissed him off even more.”

A hint of a smile brightens his eyes as he goes to interrupt me. “And then The Machine signed him and launched a smear campaign against us to coincide with the launch of our studio.”

“Exactly.” I hold my hands out to both sides. “See? It’s weird.”

“It’s not.”

Why is he being so aloof? And then it hits me… I told him I didn’t want to be in a relationship. He let it go and moved on. “Never mind.”

He nods once, keeping his chin tucked to his chest. “Okay.” The headlights on my car flash twice as I hit the button on my key fob.“Let’s get you taken care of.” It’s going to be an awkward long drive back to my place. Sigh.

---

I double check the contents of my arms after raiding my supply closet for everything I’ll need to take care of the damage left behind by Stone’s stupid ring. Gauze. Tape. Antiseptic cleanser. Basic suture kit. I couldn’t get a good look at how deep the wound was before, but after I clean it and I can actually assess the damage—it might need stitches.

Nash is leaning against the counter in my small upstairs bathroom when I return. The way he’s gripping the granite’s edge makes every muscle in his arms stand to attention. I blink a few times to gather my thoughts, which want to stray to a very different topic than basic medical care. He wipes his hand across his eyebrow and the blood starts seeping out of the gash again, reminding me of what I’m supposed to be doing here instead of ogling the very sexy rockstar standing in front of me.

“Travis called while you were downstairs,” he says, breaking the silence.

The supplies in my arms fall onto the countertop. I reach for the gauze. “Yeah?” I ask, snipping a section of the woven fabric off the roll then flick the faucet on. It’s ice cold at first, so I let it run until it reaches room temperature. 

“He said Griffin filed a report to press charges on behalf of Amaryllis.”

I mentally high-five griffin as I’m holding the gauze underneath the running water, until it’s damp enough to clean the wound. “Good! Stone needs some consequences if he’s ever going to learn anything.”

“Definitely. Travis also said the restaurant manager told them they would press charges too.”

“Did they arrest him then?”

“They sure did.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “He said they’re booking him on disturbing the peace, and he probably won’t be eligible for parole since he violated the restraining order, we filed on him after he crashed Griffin’s wedding.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good. It’ll help having that in my corner when I have to go before the judge and handle my assault charge against him.”

He scoffs and hangs his head a little lower. “I’m so sorry you have to do that.”

I shake my head and force a smile, trying to relieve his tension. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“What’s that mean?”

I bite my lip and try to shrug it off. “Nothing. Just… I should’ve stood up to him a long time ago.” There’s no need to tell him anymore than he needs to know. We all know Stone is garbage.

“You can tell me,” Nash says in almost a whisper. There’s something in his tone that makes me believe. He’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met.

I take a deep breath. “Stone assaulted me after I turned my sister in. Several months had passed and he was waiting for me when I left work that night.”

Nash’s hands grip the edge of the granite harder, causing his knuckles to turn white. His jaw clenches tight, forcing the muscles on his neck to bulge out. “He hurt you?”

“He did it to scare me into not mentioning his name. It worked—for a while—then I remembered who I am and found my strength again. I told the authorities everything when they questioned me for the trial. They lessened my sister’s sentence in exchange for the information on Stone, since he was already being investigated, but I still feel guilty for the sentence she received because if I hadn’t been involved with him in the first place then he never would’ve shown up at the hospital that first night they met.”

His face turns red then pales as he lets out a slow and steady breath. “I’m so sorry he put you through that.”

“It’s in the past.”

He reaches out and rests his hand on my arm. It feels like his touch is searing the imprint of his fingers onto my skin. “What he did to you is not okay,” he says.

“I know.” My breath comes out ragged as I strain to keep the nerves rolling inside of me at bay. “Let’s change the subject,” I say, wrinkling my nose in a cringe. “It’s been a long time and I’m fine, but I still don’t like talking about it.”

There’s a depth of understanding in his eyes as he smiles and leans back against the counter once again. “I’m at your mercy.”

Somehow that didn’t do a damn thing to calm my nerves. I’ve never felt anything as intense as my response to every move this man makes. He flinches as the soft cotton of the gauze brushes against his skin. His sudden movement startles me, even though I’m used to cleaning wounds. In fact, I’ve worked in the ER for more of my career than not, which means I’ve seen my fair share of blood; but somehow, it’s different tonight. “It might be a little tender, but this shouldn’t hurt.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head just slightly. “I’m not too worried about a little sting. It just smells terrible.”

“Oh!” I say, relieved. “That’s just the antiseptic I used on my hands to sterilize them. I don’t even notice it anymore, to be honest.”

“I think it might be the terrible artificial scent trying to cover up the antiseptic that’s so gross,” he says through an over-exaggerated fake gag.

“That one is a little harder to get used to,” I admit. “It’s still better than the smell you would’ve found if we had gone to the hospital. Trust me.”

His nose wrinkles as he laughs.

“Hold still,” I warn him.

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder, or my fingernail is going to jam straight into the open wound over your eye.”

His mouth transforms into a grimace as he cringes. “Sounds painful.”

“It would be, trust me.” I steal a glance out of the corner of my eye, my gaze drifts to his mouth. I’ve never wanted to feel a pair of lips against mine as much as I do right now. Focus! I yell at myself internally. Clean the wound. Just clean the damn wound. 

I lean forward to press the gauze gently against his skin. It’s really difficult to stay focused when he’s looking at me like that. The slow and steady warmth of his breath against the bare skin of my neck is not helping matters, either.

It looks like he’s about to say something when he stops short.

Not that I was looking at his mouth again, or anything…

“Did I hurt you?” I ask.

“Uh-uh,” he grunts.

A sharp pang in my stomach reminds me this is my fault. “I’m so sorry I got you into this,” I say with a crack in my voice. “I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“That’s bullshit,” he groans. “This is not your fault.”

“If I hadn’t—”

He holds his hand up. “Don’t take ownership of Stone’s stupidity. The last time I checked, he’s a grown man who makes his own decisions.”

“But if I hadn’t come tonight then he would’ve just shown up here instead of ruin—”

His hand wraps around mine as he spins me around to face him. “And what if he had shown up here?” His eyes are boring a hole through mine. The lock of his eyes on mine is so intense I can’t look away.

I’m also not sure I want to look away.

“With what you just told me, I don’t want to think about what might have happened,” he adds with a growl rumbling just beneath the surface of his words. “My only regret is that I didn’t hit him harder.”

He’s right. Stone’s unhinged, we all know that; but I still hate that Nash got caught in the middle of it. “I still shouldn’t have let you get involved.”

“You didn’t let me. You actually said, ‘Nash stop,’ probably a lot of other stuff too, but I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my fist hitting Stone’s pathetic little face.” He shrugs. “I’m not even a little bit sorry for that either.”

I give him a deadpan glare. “I feel guilty, okay. Just let me process that.”

“Don’t let yourself feel guilty.”

“So, what you’re saying is you’ve wanted to deck him for a long time and were just waiting for an excuse?”

“It’s not entirely incorrect to say that…” he says through a smirk. “But no.” His words make my mind wander. I remember what Carly said about me and Nash being on the same journey, but just taking different paths—until now.

Maybe there’s a reason we both have a history with Stone.

What that reason is, though, I can only guess.

“You said no. He needed to listen. Period. That’s his fault. Not yours.” His voice does something to me, calming every bit of my anxiety. I think the world could be on fire right now, and I wouldn’t notice if he was still here with me.

I apply pressure to a fresh piece of gauze, hoping it’ll be enough to bring the slight flow of blood to a halt as I search for something to say, unsure if I want to break the tension in the air or not. There’s something about the intensity in his eyes mixed with the silence that feels like it’s lighting my soul on fire in all the best ways.

“So, uh…” he clears his throat. “Did you always know you wanted to go into medicine?”

A soft chuckle escapes me. I didn’t expect that for small talk. “You might be surprised but cleaning a wound for a mega rock star in my bathroom was not on my radar.”

“That’s silly. It seems like the kind of thing that would’ve been at the top of your list,” he teases.

“Right? I wanted to be a singer.”

“What?” He asks, shocked.

I shrink back into a shrug. “I’ve never told anyone that before,” I admit.

A faint blush creeps over his face as he processes that information. Something tells me he enjoys knowing he’s the only one I’ve shared that part of my history with.

“As I got older,” I continue, “I realized that I just wanted to make people smile. That’s why I wanted to sing in the first place, because of the happiness I saw in my parents’ faces when I did. So, what better place to make people happy than where lives literally hang in the balance?” His eyes flash with a depth I haven’t seen before. It makes me crave his touch even more than I already did, while scaring the hell out of me. “Maybe that was an over share,” I acknowledge as my knees threaten to give out underneath me.

“No.” He shakes his head to emphasize his point. “I’ve just never met anyone like you before. You keep surprising me, Ainsley Meyer.” He pauses and cranes his neck trying to hear the music coming through my speakers. “That’s an interesting playlist you have going too,” he says through a barely stifled chuckle.

“Don’t judge me for my nineties pop,” I snort. “I keep it on while I’m away, so would-be intruders think someone’s home.” In the rush to take care of a bleeding Nash, I didn’t shut it off. Even though it isn’t all that bad, I hate seeing him hurt. I just wanted to fix it as quickly as I could.

“That’s smart.” His lips curl up in an adorable smirk that makes my heart turn into mush just as the music shifts from a soft ballad to a familiar melody. “I’ve heard this song on the radio a million times. It never gets easier.”

“I’ve heard it a million times too,” I admit. I play this exact song on repeat when I need a little boost.

His face twists into a scowl. “Sorry, about that.”

“Don’t be. It’s become one of my favorites.” My nerves are on edge, causing my usually steady hand to wobble as I apply the tape to hold the final piece of gauze in place. I swallow hard and let out a slow breath as I back up enough to study my handiwork. “That should do it.” The music floats through the air and I start to move to the rhythm. You can’t get anywhere standing still, I remind myself. “Do you want to dance with me?” I ask, immediately trembling, either from fear or anticipation. Maybe both. Despite my best efforts to look flirty, which I am apparently not excellent at, he shakes his head, pulling his hand back just as I reach out with mine.

“I can’t,” he says in almost a whisper.

Work mode reactivates. “Are you hurt?” I grab his arm, turning it over to check for any cuts or gashes I might’ve missed.

“No. I’m fine.”

His words knock the air out of my lungs. “Okay. That’s good.” Great. That means he just doesn’t want to dance with me. Awkward. “What? Big tough rock star can’t dance?” I ask in a pitiful attempt to bandage my wounded ego with humor.

“It’s not that. It’s just…” The gentle tone in his voice tugs at my heart. I know that tone. I’ve used that tone in the family waiting area at the hospital. Everyone’s used that tone when they’re trying to let someone down easy, while also trying to protect their heart.

“Oh, my goodness. You’re not into me like that.” I hold both hands up, hoping my embarrassment isn’t obvious. “I get it. I’m so sorry. I just misread—”

He lifts a single finger up and presses it against my lips, causing sparks to ignite in my core. “It’s not that.” A flash of heat runs down my spine, making every nerve in my body come to life. His tone intensifies his deep voice. It’s steady and even, matching the fire flickering in his eyes, which are locked onto mine. There isn’t an ounce of dishonesty coming from him in this moment, which is terrifying.

“Then what is it?” Because I am apparently physically unable to walk away before making awkward situations worse.

He leans forward so his lips are almost brushing mine, but not quite. “It’s because if I dance with you… If I hold you in my arms… If I touch you right now, I won’t be able to stop.”

And that’s a bad thing? “What if I don’t want you to stop?” I lean forward just enough to close the gap between us, pausing with my lips pressing against his. I don’t dare move for fear of breaking the magic in this moment, but as I wait for what feels like an eternity for him to respond, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve crossed the line with him. Maybe he doesn’t—

His mouth finally moves against mine, causing everything else to go silent. The sounds of the neighbor’s dogs outside, the music playing through my speakers, the racing thoughts in my mind. There is nothing left in this moment—except him. His kiss is soft and gentle, but hesitant. His passion’s burning just beneath the surface. I can feel it. That passion is what I crave. I need him to show me everything he feels for me but keeps hidden. His tongue brushes against my lips; and just as I go to taste his mouth, he pulls back. His breath comes out rushed and unsteady—vulnerable. In this moment he’s letting me see the man behind the intense gazes and the rock-and-roll image. I’m seeing Nash Miller for who he is, not the performer he has to be for the rest of the world. “Ainsley,” he says between ragged breaths. His face is strained, like he’s fighting against himself with every second that passes. “If we do this, I’m not strong enough to go back.”

“Go back to what?”

“To what?” he gives a nervous chuckle under his breath. “To being friends,” he admits, with a look of uncertainty in his eyes. “Once I know what it’s like to be with you, I won’t be able to go back to anything less.”

Like I could ever deny him of anything. That’s laughable.

“I lied,” I say, letting my lips brush against his. “I don’t want you to be my friend. I have plenty of friends. I need more than that from you.”

“Don’t tease me,” he whispers. His mouth brushes against my ear sending a bolt of electricity flooding my senses. I wrap my fingers in the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer to me, taking in everything that makes up the man standing in front of me. The smell of his cologne. The way his hair always falls just out of place, like he’s tried to force it into submission, but gave up halfway through. How his eyes flicker with different shades based on his mood of the moment. “Is it so strange to think that what I want might be the same thing you want?” I ask, lifting my face up so my lips are grazing against the scruff along his strong jaw line.

“What do you want?” he asks, with a tone in his voice that makes any hesitation I might have had completely fade away.

“I want you, Nash Miller.”And that’s all it takes for him to break. His mouth crashes against mine, stealing my breath, as his arms wrap around my waist, lifting me up and pinning me against the wall. His strong arms support my weight as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him as close to my body as I can. It’s still not close enough. His body responds as I wrap my fingers in his hair and let my teeth drag lightly against his tongue just as he pulls back. He groans, sending heat coursing through my body. I need him… now.