by Tara Leigh
The day I left Derrick, I withdrew every dollar I’d accumulated over the years—the annual stipend from my parents’ trust, babysitting money I’d earned, my allowance from Pappi—and deposited it into a new bank, at first using my lawyer’s escrow account, and then, once my name change was legal, my own. I found an apartment, applied to art school, and got a part-time job. I had been cautious, and covered my tracks well. How had Derrick found me?
More importantly—how was I going to stay away from him?
I didn’t want to find another alias, or leave school. I was tired of hiding, tired of always looking over my shoulder. And besides, after paying lawyer’s fees and then school tuition, I really couldn’t afford to start over again.
My food came and I signed the check. It galled me that Nash was the reason I was here. That Nash had been the one to save me from Derrick. I should have been grateful, I knew. But I wasn’t. I felt indebted, and resentful.
I didn’t want to depend on anyone but myself, especially not a man that looked like Nash. If neither of us was looking for a relationship, what was left? Friendship? Maintaining a platonic relationship with a guy that looked like Nash, sounded like Nash, kissed like Nash . . . would be impossible. Sex with no strings? My body was screaming yes, but my head told me that falling for Nash was a sure road to misery. For one, there was clearly something going on between him and the mother of his niece and nephew. I didn’t want to get in the middle of that. And whatever little piece of himself—wait, who was I kidding, big piece of himself—Nash would let me have, it wouldn’t be enough.
Until I figured out which path to take, I needed to stay far, far away. Which was kind of hard while I was staying at his place. One of his places.
Which was why I changed back into my jeans, grabbed Kismet and as much as I could fit inside my backpack, and fled. Nash was a bigger threat to my heart than Derrick had ever been.
Nash
A flash of color caught my eye as I nursed a drink in the bar while working on my laptop. “Fucking hell,” I muttered, jumping to my feet and slipping my computer into a messenger bag before striding into the lobby. I pulled up alongside Nixie just as she stepped outside the hotel. “Going somewhere?”
She didn’t break stride. “Yeah, home.”
“I told you, that’s not a good idea.”
“And I told you, I don’t care.”
“You realize if Derrick hurts you again, I’m going to have to kill him?”
Nixie looked up sharply, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “How do you know his name?”
“That’s all you have to say? No plea to save his life? Or concern that I might wind up rotting in jail because of some lowlife that won’t leave you alone?” I sniffed. “I’m offended.”
With her hands on her hips and one of her sneakers half untied, Nixie looked like a teenager arguing over her curfew. “I don’t want you checking up on me.”
Too late for that. “Of course not. I’m checking up on him. Derrick Attwood. The guy who slammed your dog into a wall.” Raising my arm, I traced the red marks encircling her neck with my fingertips. “The guy who choked you.”
“Well, don’t. He’s harmless.”
“Doesn’t look harmless to me.”
She swallowed. “Stop looking.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“Try.”
My eyes traveled from the hair tumbling down her shoulders to the bright white tips of her red Converses, pulled back up to heart-shaped face. I’d been trying to look away from Nixie since the first moment I set eyes on her. It hadn’t worked outside the alley, or since. And it sure as hell wasn’t working now. I shook my head. “Not gonna happen.”
Our gaze held, pedestrians forced to skirt around us at they hurried past. She huffed a small sigh. “What do you want from me, Nash?”
“Nothing you don’t want to give.”
“Then it’s nothing.”
“How about we compromise?” The word felt foreign in my mouth.
“Compromise? On what?”
“A movie night. Your choice.”
She glanced around. “Where?”
I jerked my chin back toward the Ritz. “Upstairs.”
“Porn?” she scoffed, her eyes narrowing.
“Good choice.”
“Very funny. What kind of a movie do you expect us to watch in your hotel room?”
“No need to be ashamed, Nixie. If porn is the first thing you think of when I suggest watching a movie together, I’m all for it.”
Bright pink patches bloomed on her cheeks. Fucking adorable. “That’s it, I’m going home.”
I slung an arm around her shoulders and took the leash from her hands. “Come on, the remote is all yours. Porn or the latest Channing Tatum. Whatever you want.”
“I’m not having sex with you, you know.”
“First porn, then sex. Nixie, I like the places your mind goes.”
She shrugged off my arm. “I mean it, Nash, I’m different than the girls you usually bring here.”
Didn’t I know it. “Okay. So, let me see if I have it straight. No porn and no sex.”
“And popcorn.”
“No porn, no sex, and no popcorn? Now that’s going a little too far, don’t you think?”
Nixie’s giggle skittered along my nerve endings, sending a surge of heat below my belt buckle. “You’re right. No porn, no sex, but definitely a big vat of buttered popcorn.”
I picked up Kismet and nodded at the doorman. “You drive a hard bargain, Nixie Rowland.”
Nixie
Pushing the elevator call button, Nash flashed a grin that punctured my lungs like a knife wound. His smiles always left me breathless, but this one was a doozy. Checking my reflection in the mirrored cage, I expected to see myself sucking wind. My skin was a little flushed, but at least I didn’t resemble a dying fish.
Nash, on the other hand . . . I didn’t want to risk another peek. He was too damn attractive for words and every glance sent a kaleidoscope of winged butterflies practicing their aerials in my stomach. And they were multiplying. Rapidly.
Unlocking the door with his keycard, Nash held it open and I caught a whiff of his scent as I brushed past him. Woodsy and clean, he smelled like a forest. “Aren’t I kind of cramping your style? I mean, this place is supposed to be your love nest, right?”
He quirked a rich, sable brow. “Love nest?”
“What would you call it then? One night stand central? Sex cave?”
My breath hitched as he stepped closer to me, tucking a finger beneath my chin and forcing my head back. “Nixie, I do believe you have sex on the brain. I should make you beg for it.” His hand moved, sliding around my neck, his thumb sweeping along my jaw. “But I won’t. All you have to do is ask.”
Ask? I wanted to beg. Capitulation never sounded so sweet. Could Nash feel the desire churning in the pit of my stomach? Smell my longing? I stepped back, just out of reach. “Where’s the remote?”
His soft chuckle danced along my spine as I unclipped the leash from Kismet’s collar. She walked tiredly to her crate and curled up on the bed inside.
Striding to the desk, Nash lifted the phone to his ear and ordered popcorn from room service while I tugged at the drawers of the TV console. Locating the remote, I picked it up and spun around to face him. “And a milkshake, too,” I added. “Vanilla, extra thick.”
Nash coughed. “Also, a vanilla milkshake. And the lady prefers it thick. Extra thick, actually.” Lips twitching, he hung up the phone. “Coming right up.”
“Why is everything sexual with you?” I said, scrolling through the movie options. “I swear, you’re like a horny teenage boy.”
“I’m afraid men don’t exactly outgrow the horny stage once they hit their twenties. Or their thirties. Or ever, probably.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you telling me that beneath your clothes, you’re still the same horndog you were ten years ago?”
He muttered a curse. �
�Nixie, I think you need to stop talking unless you want to find out exactly what’s beneath my clothes. Although, given your taste in milkshakes, I can promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Heat rose up my chest and neck, setting the tips of my ears on fire. Nash was right. I needed to stop talking. Flopping onto the couch, I immersed myself in the hotel’s movie selection. But it was hard to concentrate when all of my brain cells were focused on the man standing just behind me, his fingers lightly trailing over my shoulder. Luckily, there was a knock on the door announcing our popcorn and the milkshake I might never be able to order with a straight face again. While he dealt with the delivery person, I quickly found a movie I’d been meaning to watch and pressed play.
Nash handed me the drink and sat down, putting the tub of popcorn on the cocktail table. “So, when are you going tell me what’s happened between you and Derrick?”
I swallowed a mouthful of my vanilla shake, the cold concoction sliding along the roof of my mouth and into my throat. “I wasn’t planning on it, actually.”
“Then you should probably get used to staying here. No way you’re going back until he’s out of the picture.”
“Do you have a kid sister?”
“No.”
“Well, I think you should get one. You have this whole overprotective act covered, you might as well find someone to appreciate it.”
He grunted. “You appreciate it. You just don’t know it yet.”
“If you want to know the truth, you sound just like Derrick.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
I cocked my head to the side. “Nice try, but I’m not so easily manipulated.”
He grinned, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Worth a shot.”
We settled into the movie, although I could barely focus on it. The side of my body facing Nash throbbed as if I’d spent the day tanning on the equator. When Nash reached for my leg, I practically jumped out of my skin. “What are you doing?” I squealed.
“This movie sucks, I need something else to do.” His hand wrapped around my ankle and brought it into his lap, flinging my sneaker to the opposite end of the room.
Seconds later, the tips of his thumbs were sliding along the arch of my foot. I groaned, putting my half-finished milkshake on the table and letting my head fall back against the couch. “Oh my god, if you had told me about this particular skill I never would have argued about staying here.”
“I’ll have you know my list of skills is very long.”
I sighed in pleasure as I looked over at him, not even minding the thinly veiled hint. “Are you saying you’ve got mad skills?”
Nash winked. “Hell, yeah. The maddest.”
Dear god. The wink. The hands. I was a goner. After a few minutes, he reached for my other ankle, pulling it into his lap like a limp strand of linguine. “Mmmm. Okay, I have to ask. You’re not going to expect the same, are you? I don’t really do feet.”
“I wasn’t exactly doing this as a quid pro quo, although since you’re offering . . . I think two feet, ten questions would be a fair trade.”
Pulling my feet away wasn’t an option. “Two feet, two questions.”
“Eight.”
“Two.”
“Six.”
“Two.”
“You might not realize this, but I negotiate deals for a living. I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”
“That’s because I don’t negotiate.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone negotiates.”
“Not me.”
“Five.”
“Two.”
Nash lifted my feet off his lap.
“Okay, okay. Three.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Deal. How do you know Derrick?”
“Wait—what? Three questions with yes or no answers!”
I looked up to see Nash shaking his head. “Too bad. You didn’t negotiate that. Two feet, three questions, period.”
I wrinkled my nose, thinking. “Fine, but I get veto power.”
“One veto, I can live with that.”
“Three.”
“None.”
“One.”
“Done.”
I blew an anxious breath as Nash’s delicious fingers moved up to my calf. “I’ve known Derrick since I was a kid. Our fathers were friends who got into business together.”
“And?”
“Is that your second question?”
“No, it’s me calling you out for giving half an answer.”
Nash pressed the inside of my knee and I swear I saw stars. “When I was in high school, we started dating. He was older but he treated me like a princess and I thought the sun rose and set on his head. But as time went on, he wanted me to still be that wide-eyed teenager who was completely in awe of him. I loved him, but I wanted a bigger world than the one he was willing to let me have. Things got suffocating, and I broke up with him.”
“What made you run away from him?”
“I never said I ran away from Derrick.”
“You didn’t need to. Second question: why?”
This was what I’d been hoping to avoid. But there was no way I could answer without divulging the truth about my parents. My stomach clenching, I squeezed my eyes closed and plunged in. “ . . . And so that’s why I left. It’s not the money, but it’s all I have left from my parents and I don’t want Derrick taking it from me just to pay off his gambling debts.”
“I thought you said your trust didn’t mature until you turned twenty-five. Why is Derrick coming after you now?”
“Is that your third question?”
“Yes.”
“Veto.”
He pulled my baby toe, cracking it.
“Ow—hey. Don’t be a sore negotiator. Next question.”
“Fine. Is that the first time he hurt you?” His hands stilled, waiting for my response.
“Yes,” I said. “Before, when he’s gotten mad, he’s always managed to hold himself in check. This time, it was almost like . . .” I shivered.
“What? Almost like what?”
My eyes snapped open. “Almost like he enjoyed it.” I saw Nash wince, and in that moment my heart stilled. “Thanks,” I whispered, my throat dry.
“For what?”
“For feeling what you feel, on my behalf.”
He rested his hands on my knee. “Nixie, if that bastard ever touches you again, he’ll regret it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nash
My eyes dropped from Nixie’s glistening eyes to her trembling lips, and then to her reddened neck. This girl . . . I didn’t even know what to do with her. Her story—losing her parents, both of them, so young. Being raised not by relatives but by her father’s business partner. Seduced as a teenager by a man who should have treated her like a younger sister, who should have been looking out for her, protecting her. Feeling like her only choice was to run away from him. Being threatened. Being hurt.
A surge of emotions welled within my chest. Respect. Lust. Concern. Interest. Affection.
God damn it—I liked this girl.
And I wanted to fuck her.
For me, that was a dangerous combination. Add the two together, eventually it would become love. Nash Knight didn’t do love. Why? Because the other half of love was loss. Sure, loss was inevitable . . . but without love it didn’t have the power to devastate.
I’d been the one to tell Eva that Wyatt had died. She’d crumpled to the ground and didn’t pull herself together until the twins were born. And even then, every one of their milestones—first smiles, first steps, birthdays, Christmases—was tinged with grief.
I was no stranger to sob stories, but Nixie’s tale pressed on my chest like a lead vest. I’d had to pry it out of her, and now I was so far out on a limb I didn’t know whether to jump down or scramble back to the tree’s trunk. My hands tightened on Nixie’s legs, holding on to her as I fought to keep myself under control. I wanted
to stand up, pace the room, hit a wall. Find Derrick, hit him over and over until his face was unrecognizable—and he knew better than to ever come around Nixie again.
And as for Nixie . . . I wanted to fuck her, slow and deep, hard and fast, until neither one of us could keep a rational thought in our heads. Until she didn’t even remember Derrick Attwood existed.
What I should do was go to the gym. Run until my legs gave out, punch any bag I could find or any man willing to punch back. The one thing I shouldn’t do, definitely shouldn’t do, was pull Nixie onto my lap, thread my fingers through that riot of hair streaming down her back like a goddamn parade, and stare into her bottomless golden gaze like I wanted to dive in headfirst.
But that’s exactly what I did.
And when Nixie’s breath warmed my lips, it would be crazy to close the gap between us and kiss her like she was the last source of oxygen on earth. But I did that, too. Before I knew it, Nixie’s hands were wrapped around my neck, her wrists pressing into my shoulders, her sweet sigh of surrender echoing in my ears.
Crazy. As. Fuuuuuck. This girl was going to be the goddamn end of me. The me that I knew. The me that I’d become. Barricaded safely behind walls of steel and stone, looking out only through tinted windows. As Nixie’s hips rocked into me, I could feel the cracks edging outward, fissures forming where her thighs pressed against mine, that little sound coming from the back of her throat making my cock drill against my zipper. He wanted out. Wanted in. Wanted Nixie.
So did I.
My palms slid along her arched back, gliding along the curve of her ass, kneading the juicy flesh. Just enough to fill my hands, not an ounce more. It was as if Nixie’s body had been made to fit perfectly within mine. With a savage groan, I yanked her against me. So close there wasn’t a single inch of her body that wasn’t flush with mine. The bulge in my pants nestled perfectly within the apex of Nixie’s thighs. Instinctively seeking friction, her hips were moving ever so slightly, rolling, rocking, driving me fucking crazy.
I hadn’t been this hard, this close to exploding in my goddamn pants, since I was fifteen, sneaking behind the bleachers with the head cheerleader just before a big game. The anticipation, the not knowing, the thrill of doing something forbidden with someone new—it was intoxicating.
