Manhattan Mogul: A New York City Romance

by Tara Leigh

  But the Nash above me isn’t a teenager, or the cocky jerk he was when we first met. There are so many facets to his personality, he’s impossible to define by pithy stereotypes.

  Nash is real. And right now, he’s mine.

  Another tremor rolls through me, each vibration shaking off a little more of my fear, another layer of doubt. Could it be that I actually mean something to Nash? That he wants me, cares for me? That I’m not just another body in the endless stream that has slipped beneath him, another notch on his bedpost?

  I want to believe him, so much. And something in his voice, in his touch, something etched into the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes, and his eyes themselves—darker than normal, like damp moss, and framed by those inky black lashes I wish I could steal—make me think he’s telling the truth.

  Or, at least, what he believes to be the truth. Which isn’t exactly the same.

  But I’m willing to pretend, at least while we’re living it up in paradise. What’s built up between us is too strong to deny, and whatever happens after this, so be it.

  It’s funny, though. One of the reasons I came to Bermuda was to avoid throwing myself at Nash in New York and getting rejected again. But now, this is something we both want. I’m not sure exactly what I’m getting into, and from the sounds of it, neither is Nash.

  But we’ll figure it out together.

  “Okay,” I murmur, reaching for his arms and pulling him back down. I need to feel his weight on me, run my hands over muscles that rise beneath his skin like a topographical map commissioned from Michelangelo.

  Nash drops his chin to the curve of my shoulder, his breath dancing along my flesh. “You’re like no one I’ve ever known, Nixie. And when you look at me like you are right now, with your eyes all soft and a smile on your lips, you make me think I must be doing something to deserve it.” He plants a light kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’ve been waiting to unwrap you since the first night we met.”

  A nervous laugh trips from my throat, my breasts pressing against him. “There’s not much wrapping left.”

  He glances down at my bikini bottom, his grin like a matchstick dragging along the surface of my skin, leaving sparks in its wake. “I saved the best for last.”

  I might have laughed again, but suddenly his mouth closes around my nipple, my eyes rolling back in my head as I feel the graze of his teeth, the flick of his tongue. I arch up as my fingers curve around his shoulder, running my palms along smooth skin and taut muscles that coil and jump beneath my touch. Forget about a knight in shining armor—Nash is a goddamned gladiator.

  Another bite, not enough to hurt, just enough to make my breath shudder inside my lungs. My fingernails become claws, leaving half-moon indents at uneven intervals along his spine. Just as I’m about to scream from sensory overload, he lifts his head, blowing softly on the wet peak. There. Are. No. Words.

  My entire body tenses. I’m a fish caught on a line, or maybe the worm used as bait, paralyzed with shock at the first sting of the hook.

  Perfectionist that he is, Nash does it all over again on the other side.

  The moment breaks, sensations flooding in. My limbs loosen and I’m squirming, making noises I don’t recognize as my own. Nash lifts his head, pushing back on his forearms, his gaze sweeping along my heated flesh.

  I always felt shy when Derrick looked at my naked body, never able to read those fathomless eyes of his. With Nash, I force myself to ignore the vulnerability swimming inside my bones and look up at him, reading the slightest shifts of his expression. What I see in the the hard planes and strong hollows of his face doesn’t make me feel ashamed or afraid or dirty. Adoration bleeds from every pore.

  He draws in a shaky breath. “Point of no return, baby. I swear on my life I’ll take care of you, but if we go any further, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

  An air bubble of panic breaks free, rising up the column of my throat. But I swallow it down and flatten my palms on his chest, taking comfort in a pulse that’s racing as fast as my own. “Don’t you dare stop, Nash.”

  A roguish smile tugs at his mouth, one eyebrow lifting as rough hands wrap around mine, holding them above my head while he slides down my body. I think he says something in return, but the words are lost as his tongue scavenges the hollow of my belly, the slide of my hips, the curve of my thighs.

  I’m twisting from side to side, so hot I can’t fathom how my bikini bottom hasn’t melted away. But it’s still there, a barrier I can’t wait to be rid of. As I gasp for air, Nash releases my wrists. Seconds later his fingers are hooked over the strings knotted at my sides, sliding them down my legs.

  Naked, electricity shoots from my toes to the top of my head and everywhere in between. I am buzzing, vibrating, the sound of my heartbeat pounding against my eardrums. Nash’s hands slide up my calves, wrapping around my knees and gently pushing them outward, raining kisses along the insides of my thighs. As he settles between my legs, those hands move beneath me, palming my ass. My breath catches in the back of my throat, wavering between shouting for him to stop and cheering him on.

  My muscles tense and knot as Nash’s stubbled jawline abrades my sensitive skin, his mouth moving closer to my core. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get a taste of you,” he growls. A flick of his tongue adds an exclamation point to his hoarse words, my hips jerking upward. “So damned sweet.”

  His hands shift slightly, just enough so his thumbs can curve around my hipbones, preventing me from bouncing off the mattress as his tongue slips further within my folds, lapping at secret places only he has ever discovered. He starts slow, teasing me every so often with a long lick that leaves me gasping for air. Pleasure builds and builds, my spine arching higher and higher. Mumbled words and senseless phrases spill from my mouth, interspersed with Nash’s name.

  Nash—a four-letter word I want to scream from the top of my lungs. It is a curse and a plea, a command and a chant.

  Pleasure condenses from a crazy zigzag to a straight line, becoming thinner and thinner, so tight and taut it finally snaps. With a cry, I tumble free, spinning and swirling, my weightless body suspended in an erotic, blissful cloud.

  Ecstatic aftershocks are still rolling through me as Nash kisses his way up my sweat-slick skin. I turn my head into his neck, running my fingers through his tousled hair, feeling myself settle back down to earth. “I know you don’t like compliments, but I think you might just deserve an award for that. That was . . . incredible.”

  Nash’s full lips curve into a smile. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. Then finally, my mouth. “You’re my reward.”

  I kiss him back, hard. “Not reward, silly. Award. Like a prize.”

  “I heard you. Reward, award, prize. You.”

  This man. I capture Nash’s stare with my own, dragging my hands down his ribcage and pushing at his still damp swim trunks. He holds a plank as I wrestle them off his hips, then kicks them away.

  My fingertips trace the contours and planes of his body on their way back his face, his jaw clenched so tightly it could have been carved from marble.

  A breath shudders from Nash’s mouth, slivers of his control breaking away, the vibrations echoing against my palms. Nash’s body is stiff with tension, his muscles inflated by hunger. My hands can’t stay still, sliding down his throat, skimming his sides, to the place our bodies are just an inch apart. To the part of him that will soon be inside of me.

  Nash pulses in my palm, thick and hot, skin like brushed velvet. “Nixie,” he groans, closing his eyes for just a moment before opening them again, pinpoints of intense black staring at me from a sea of the brightest, lushest green.

  I suck in a shallow breath as his hips rock toward me, my lungs too small to contain the rising tide of lust and empowerment swelling within my chest. I start to slide down the mattress, wanting to take Nash in my mouth, to do for him what he’s done for me. But he grabs my shoulders. “No, baby. You feel too damn good.” He yanks at the nigh
tstand drawer and makes quick work of a condom while I try not to stare in awe.

  A second later, Nash captures my hands again, entwining our fingers together and pressing them above my head. My knees edge apart as a deep reservoir of hunger uncoils within my stomach. Breathless with anticipation, I stare at Nash as my hips arch upward, the heady taste of lust filling my mouth. He’s barely nudged me open when his head drops, his cheek resting against mine, the tip of his nose brushing the shell of my ear as he repeats my name again.

  Desperate to feel him deep inside me, a needy whimper leaps from my throat. Nash pulls back, his strong features arranged into an expression that makes my breath hitch. Lust and want and need. Something else, too. Is it too much to hope that it’s love? But the question skitters away as Nash begins sinking into my center, inch by delicious inch. His hands tighten their hold on mine, eyes pinning me beneath him as surely as the weight of his body. His gaze shifts to my lips, his mouth following.

  With my kiss, I spill the truths threatening to burst from my heart. I love Nash Knight—so much, I wonder if the words are redundant. Can he see it, feel it? Is it written all over my face?

  A trail of fire races along the network of nerves pressing against the surface of my skin. I’m burning up from the inside, stoked by a brand pushing its way into the deepest part of me. An exquisite invasion. For so long I’ve felt empty and alone. Now I’m full to overflowing, and cocooned within Nash’s arms. Releasing a shuddering sigh, I wrap my legs around his hips, pushing up against him, craving friction.

  He smiles down at me and my stomach flips, yet again. It’s so different than the one from the first night we met. That smile was arrogant and cocky, totally one-sided. This one is better, brighter. Meant just for me. There’s a kindness to the curve of his lips. A recklessness, too. Like we’re sharing a secret that somehow binds us together, and he’s glad. “Impatient minx,” he whispers, low and teasing.

  My own vocabulary is down to the bare necessities. “Please,” I rasp.

  Nash releases my hands, sliding his fingers to the base of my skull, cupping my head as he leans in for another kiss. His mouth slices over mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth, his hips pulling out. Alternating kisses and thrusts until my head is spinning.

  I cling to Nash, meeting his hips and moaning his name. My hands rove up and down his back, luxuriating in the movement of his perfect muscles, the curved arch of his spine, the strength of his thighs.

  His movements change from long and slow to determined, purposeful jabs, sending waves of sensation that break over my skin, penetrating deep. And when his hand slips between us, I cry out from the surge that rushes through me, tension coiling fast and then shattering completely apart, suffusing my veins with glittering shards of bliss.

  Nash buries his face into the hollow between my neck and shoulder, his muffled yell vibrating through my bones as his body collapses onto mine. I revel under the weight, his quick puffs of air sending chills down my spine.

  Too soon, he lifts onto his elbows, putting space between us. “Are you okay?” he asks, his concerned stare so sincere.

  “Better than okay. That was . . . wow.”

  “Ditto.” His lips purse, as if he wants to say more, but instead he scrubs a palm over his face.

  Suddenly self-conscious, I roll my eyes in an effort to downplay what just passed between us. “Whatever, you’ve done this a lot more than I have. You don’t have to pretend that you’ve never had good sex before.”

  As if he knows exactly what I’m doing, and why, Nash rolls to the side, bringing me with him and tenderly sweeping away the wisps of hair clinging to my damp forehead. “Nixie, I’ve sure as hell never done that before. I don’t even know what that was.”

  Chapter 16

  Nash

  I hate Thanksgiving. No matter how delicious the food or strong the liquor, the table is always missing two chairs where my brothers should be.

  Last year I flew to Florida with Eva and the kids on Wednesday. I lasted less than twenty-four hours before faking a work emergency. Before my mother had even put the turkey in the oven on Thursday morning, I was on a plane back to New York where I proceeded to get drunk in my office.

  Somehow Reggie found out I’d returned and managed to bring me to his and Lucia’s apartment. Once I sobered up, I spent the rest of the holiday weekend sparring with Bryce, who has his own reasons for avoiding his family.

  Today, every seat around the table is filled. There are no boxing gloves on my hands. I’m holding a finely aged scotch, though, courtesy of Tristan’s impressive cellar.

  Nixie and I spent the early part of the day at the beach with Tristan and Reina while Celeste and Eva baked cookies and pies with the twins. Nixie offered to stay back and help, too, but Reina took her aside, whispering that the staff does most of the work in the kitchen and prefers that we stay out of their way.

  I knew there was a reason I liked Tristan’s new bride.

  It’s nice to see my friend so happy in his personal life. Tristan and Reina had a pretty public struggle a while back, and not only did they stick it out, they married and are expecting their first child in a few months. And Tripp is a father, too. He has been for a long time, though he only found out recently. Life is a pretty insane roller coaster ride for him these days. But he’d be the first one to tell you he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

  My friends are falling like flies.

  Reina stands up now, gazing at her husband as she lifts her glass of sparkling apple cider in one hand and rubs the swell of her belly with the other. “I’m sure it’s pregnancy hormones talking, but I just want to say how happy I am that all of you have joined us for the holidays.” Reina casts her eyes around the table, grinning giddily first at Tristan and Celeste, and then at my parents and me, Eva and the twins, and Nixie. “Honestly, sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here.”

  Tristan rises, pulling her into his side. “If you weren’t, I’d just be chasing you around the globe. And I’d like to thank all of our guests for joining us today, too. Otherwise Reina and I would be here alone with Celeste, who just kicked her latest boyfriend to the curb.” He lifts his glass toward her. “Smart move, by the way. And my Thanksgiving would have been spent learning all the different reasons men are the inferior species. You have saved me, and I appreciate it.”

  Not one to be undone, Celeste pops up. “I’m happy to give you a lesson anytime you like, Tristan. But for now, I’m just so glad to be among family and friends.” I notice Nixie dip her head, and I worry she’s feeling excluded. But apparently Celeste notices also. “And that includes you, too, Nixie. Although, I think we’re all dying to know the reason Nash whisked you away from whatever big bad wolf was after you in New York.”

  Nixie glances up at the mention of her name, and now her flawless skin is glowing pink, and not just from the strong Bermuda sun. Her mouth opens, but it’s Madison who speaks first. “You’re being chased by the big bad wolf?” she asks, awe dripping from her voice.

  Eva shoots a glance at Celeste before turning back to her daughter. “No, sweetheart. The adults are just being silly.”

  Madison’s little eyebrows pull together. “Oh. Can we go play now?”

  Parker slips off his chair. “Thank you for Thanksgiving. It was yummy.”

  My parents have been quiet for most of the meal and now look over at Eva, who is halfway out of her chair. “Eva, sit, sit,” my mother urges, gesturing with her hands as my father stands and pulls back her heavy chair. “Stay here, we’ll take Madison and Parker for a walk on the beach.”

  My father rubs a belly that has grown in recent years. “I could use a walk, too.”

  My mother elbows him. “I should think so,” she chides. His cholesterol and blood pressure have crept up lately, though he’s stubbornly resisting her efforts to change his diet.

  Eva flashes a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’m sure they would love that.”

  Celeste waits until the foursome leave the room
. “I’m sorry if I said something out of line.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Nixie says, rushing to offer reassurance before taking a quick sip from her wine glass. We haven’t yet managed a repeat performance of the other afternoon, although it isn’t for lack of interest on my part. But between the number of adults in the house, plus running around after the twins . . . I’m ready to kidnap Nixie myself.

  “Well, I’m staying in Bermuda until the end of the month and you’re welcome to stay here with me. After everyone leaves it’s going to be too quiet, although I can’t bring myself to go back to the cold just yet.”

  “You could always check out the new Holtsmann that just opened in the Caribbean. I hear its amazing.” Reina says.

  “Maybe,” Celeste replies, then steers the conversation back to Nixie. “So, how about it?”

  “Thanks, Celeste. That’s really nice of you.” Nixie glances at me. “But Nash is making a big deal over a little misunderstanding. Despite the plunging temperatures, I think I’d like to head back to New York.”

  I perk up. “You know, it’s not a bad idea.” With Nixie safe in Bermuda, I can take a closer look into the Attwood’s business myself, maybe even pay Derrick a visit. Not to mention make another trip to Nebraska for a second shot with Duncan. I haven’t yet found a company that would serve as well as NetworkTech, though my best people have been working on it around the clock for six weeks now. There has to be something I can offer to make Duncan reconsider.

  “I’ll be fine.” Nixie’s voice is firm, her mouth a tight line. “He’s not going to bother me again. And I have classes next week, and Kismet, too.”

  Tristan has been watching our exchange with mild interest, and he now lifts concerned eyes to me. “You working on this?”

  Nixie catches my quick nod. “No, he is not. Nash, I mean it. Derrick is not your problem.”

  “He hurt you. That makes him my problem.”