by Hart, Kaily
Landing at 13:10. – Nash.
She’d been sitting staring at the text message for a good hour. It had come in during the night from a blocked number, but she’d gone straight to her studio to work that morning and hadn’t thought to check her phone.
Funny. The dread she used to feel from a text was now a distant memory. Nash hadn’t said anything, but she hadn’t received any more unwanted texts since just before he’d left and she was certain that wasn’t a coincidence. She didn’t know what he’d done or how, but she knew it was because of him.
Damn, it was already lunchtime, which meant he was due in in just over an hour. She swallowed the lump that rose into her dry throat, had been there pretty much since she’d seen his message, along with the knot of tension in her gut.
Now what?
She hadn’t heard him from him since he’d left—months ago—unless she counted the boxes. Nothing. Nada. Squat.
She walked back to her living room and threw herself down on to the sofa. She’d read and re-read the message. God, it wasn’t even a sentence. The bottom line was she couldn’t read a damn thing into it.
What? He was flying back in and wanted to give her an FYI? He wanted her to meet him? Or not? He was leaving it up to her? But why? And did she really want to open up those raw wounds again because sure as hell he’d be headed off again to God knew where? She rubbed her forehead, at the dull ache behind her eyes. Jeez, who was she kidding? None of those wounds had ever healed, they hadn’t even scabbed over.
She was hot and tired and in a foul mood. Her latest work wasn’t going the way she expected, the way she wanted. Actually it was a piece of shit if she was honest with herself. For the longest time her studio had been her sanctuary, her art her escape, but lately? She’d lost the feel of it, lost the feel for it and it was a bummer because she craved that oblivion she used to take for granted, so bad.
Lexi tossed the phone on to the coffee table, put her feet in her heavy boots up on the dark surface and crossed her arms. Fuck it. If he thought she was going to get dressed up and high-tail it to the airport to pick him up just because he’d summoned her, he had another think coming.
*****
Nash cleared his throat and dumped his duffel in the middle of Lexi’s living room with a dull thud. God, he needed a shower. Bad. It might help to make him feel halfway human again. Maybe. The flight had been beyond grueling—correction, flights. He’d hopped flight after fucking flight to get back here as soon as he could and he— He thought the tension would have eased from him once he finally got here, saw her again, touched her, yet his skin still felt as if it were stretched too tight over his bones. Yeah, he should have called first but he hadn’t had the guts to, plain and simple. And he’d never run from anything or anyone in his life before.
“Thanks for the ride,” he managed to force out. “I—I need a shower. I need to shave. I…”
I need you, just you, right now, right fucking now, naked and spread out under me.
The words reverberated in his head until he thought it would explode from the effort it cost him to stop from roaring them at her. She’d barely said a word to him from the moment he’d seen her and it made him as uneasy as hell.
Maybe there was someone else. Maybe she’d moved on and had picked him up out of the goodness of her heart. Maybe he didn’t do a Goddamn thing for her anymore. And maybe, just maybe he’d made the biggest fucking mistake of his life when he’d left.
She’d met him at the airport, had been waiting for him when he cleared security. If he hadn’t been so nervous he might have laughed at her dirty work overalls, heavy boots and messy, sticking out hair. As it was, she’d walked into his arms and he’d felt as if he’d come home for the first time in his life. He hadn’t wanted to let her go, had forced himself to ease away from her and then…nothing but ice, cold and biting.
They’d ridden in the car to her place as if they were strangers and he hadn’t been able to think of a single fucking thing to say to her, nothing that mattered anyway. Perhaps he should start with why he was here. Better late than never, right?
“Lexi—”
“Strip.”
Say…
“What?” Nash frowned. He would have been more than happy to oblige, except she didn’t have the look of lust on her face, she wasn’t looking at him with passion, need. It was hard-nosed determination and yeah, maybe some anger.
“I said strip.”
Or else.
It was unspoken, but he got the message loud and clear. God, he wanted her so bad, needed inside her so much, but he could be determined too. And patient. Taking his clothes off got him one step closer to what he wanted, so what the hell?
He heard her breath catch when he shrugged out of his shirt.
“Turn around.”
“Why?” He smiled. “You want to check out my ass?”
“Turn.”
There was no answering smile. Not even a flicker, but he did as she asked. No, demanded.
He frowned when she walked around him slowly. “What are you doing?” He couldn’t tell shit from her expression and that bothered the hell out of him.
He knew the exact moment she saw it. The gasp was a dead giveaway. The wound was still an ugly pale pink against his darker skin and had hurt like a motherfucker. Luckily the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital, had been more of a flesh wound than anything. It had still taken a decent sized gouge out of him though.
“Damn it, Nash,” she forced out, her voice hard, strained. “I can’t do this. Put your goddamn shirt back on.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Her mouth tightened. “You had a wasted trip. You’re not getting laid. Not by me, anyway.”
“Lexi…”
“Out. Get out. You need to leave.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Nash was exhausted, his brain operating on minimal capacity and he had no idea what the hell was going on. He saw the single tear track down her cheek and everything in him stilled.
He groaned. “Lexi…”
“Out. Now.”
Was she crying? Fuck, she was crying.
Shit.
Of all the things he’d ever pictured concerning her, crying had never been one of them. She always seemed so strong and “together”, so tough and he probably just took it for granted. The sight of her wet cheeks made it feel like broken glass was twisting in his gut.
He pulled her down on to his lap on the sofa. He’d never had to deal with a crying woman before. If there’d ever been tears, he’d been long gone.
“Lexi, tell me what’s wrong.”
God, he was so out of his element here.
She shook her head and turned her face into his chest.
He could fly any type of aircraft, fire any type of firearm, kill a man soundlessly with his bare hands, yet for the life of him he didn’t have a clue why she was crying or how to fix it. Maybe he was just making things worse. He should have left things the way they were. And he should have thought this through better instead of being so damn selfish.
When she didn’t say anything he said, “If you want me to go, I will. I thought—”
“Stay.”
It was soft and so low he barely heard it, but that one word eased the tension from his entire body like nothing else could.
“Lexi, what—”
“You were hurt,” she murmured. “God, Nash, you were hurt and I…”
“I’m fine though.”
“But I didn’t know.”
“It was just—”
“A scratch?” she hiccupped. “Yeah, where have I heard that before?”
He smiled. “I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad, really. And it’s healed now. Mostly. Okay?”
God, that was it? That he’d been hurt? He cupped her cheek and turned her face to him. He wiped at the moisture with his thumb, hating the tracks the tears had left. Damn. No one had ever cried for him before.
“Tell me something?” sh
e whispered.
His gut clenched. “Sure.”
“Who was it? Texting me? I know you took care of it.”
The rage was still there and he had to temper it with an effort. He’d debated telling her. What good would it have done? The threat had been removed and the guy would never bother her or anyone else again.
“He worked in the management office here at the complex, had full access to your contact information they keep on file. He got your new number each time as soon as he realized you’d changed it.”
He felt the sigh. “It wasn’t anyone I knew.”
“No. Just a sick fuck who got his rocks off terrorizing women.”
Terrorizing his woman. It was a miracle Nash hadn’t killed the pervert. Nah, he’d made himself turn him over to the cops. Eventually.
“He won’t bother you or anyone else ever again. I promise. And let’s just say the security procedures and background checks of personnel here have been substantially upgraded.”
He’d made sure of that too. Personally.
“You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?”
“Stupid? No.” Satisfying? Hell, yeah.
Nash eased her off his lap when she nodded, a simple, but absolute show of trust that choked him up. He needed to get his body moving—now—before he wasn’t able to any more. Already exhaustion threatened to take him under. “I need a shower, okay?”
He waited until she nodded before he grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom. It was an effort to drag one foot in front of the other, but he showered in record time, his stomach bunched in knots. When he came out she was waiting for him. On her bed. Naked.
His chest ached, every part of his body shook and his cock was so hard, the pain almost made him gasp out loud. He’d forgotten how fucking beautiful she was.
He took a deep breath, lowered his body down beside hers. He’d flown nonstop to get to her, over forty hours of ridiculous connections. Man, he didn’t have the control for this, not the way he wanted to be with her, the way he wanted to please her and he’d be damned if he’d ever leave her hanging again. It just wasn’t going to happen.
“Wait,” he managed when her hands reached for him, heading right for the towel he’d wrapped around his hips. If she touched him now, it was all over.
“Not happening. You’ve made me wait long enough.”
“Let me—I need to…” He shifted away from under her, keeping her hands locked in his. “Let me take the edge off first, okay?”
She frowned. “No.”
“Lexi…”
“As much as I’d kill to watch that, if anyone’s going to take your edge off right now, it’ll be me.”
Whoa.
He groaned as images crowded into his brain, not so different from the ones that had haunted his dreams and most of his waking moments since he’d left her. They were so clear, so real, he thought there was a chance he just might combust from them. Except Lexi was right here in front of him and looked as if she wanted to eat him alive.
“I’ll come if you so much as breathe on me,” he grated.
His breath hitched in his throat when she leaned closer, pursed her lips and blew a soft stream of air over his heated skin. He groaned, gritted his teeth and fought the sensations that threatened to engulf him. He hadn’t been far wrong.
His heart hammered in his chest at the expression in her eyes, determined, intent.
“Lexi?”
She slid down his body until she was kneeling between his legs. He tried to control the trembling he felt in every limb as she flicked the towel from him, but it was fucking useless. Even though he was braced for her first touch, the slide of her smooth hand on his cock sent an electric current along his length, straight into his balls, along every nerve ending in his body.
She bent her head, put her mouth to his balls, licking, sucking, totally fucking destroying him.
“Fuck, Lexi… You have…no…idea…”
She worked him with her hand, the movements timed to perfection with her mouth. God, she knew what he liked and exactly how he liked it and God, why did that feel so much like home?
“Jesus, I’m gonna come.”
Ten seconds, ten fucking seconds.
“I’m counting on it,” she murmured hotly against him.
And that was it. Nash stiffened, hands fisted in the sheets, a groan as much pain as pleasure ripped from him as he spurted hotly in her hand and across his abdomen as she continued to milk him, still sucking gently on his balls.
Fuck.
Nash opened his eyes, felt the moisture on his lashes and tried like hell to focus his eyesight. He was still seeing bright flashes of light. His gaze followed her as she left the room, returning with a washcloth.
It was warm. Damn. She’d wrung it out in warm water. When was the last time anyone had done anything like that for him? Shown him any form of selfless consideration? Care?
Lexi cleaned him gently, carefully, and all he could do was watch her every movement, a contentment singing through him he’d never felt before.
She brushed a strand of hair back from his eyes when she was finished. Her lids were heavy, eyes dazed, face flushed. “Sleep, Nash. I can see how exhausted you are.”
“Nah.” He grabbed her hand. “Gotta take care of my woman first.”
“Nash—”
He’d jerked her down and rolled her beneath him before she had a chance to do more than gasp. Besides, she’d been too shocked by the “my woman” comment to do more than just go with it.
Nash looked different—leaner, harder—but achingly the same. God, how often had she pictured him, trying to remember exactly how he moved, exactly how he looked, how he felt? She’d think she was imagining him now except he dominated the room, the bed, her.
Lexi knew his body almost as well as she knew her own. Or thought she did. She’d tried enough times to imprint him on her brain but her memory had barely done him justice. Damn, he was built—long-limbed, strong, muscular, heavy.
Oh, God.
He reached across her to tug open her bedside table drawer and grab a condom, his dark gaze never leaving hers. Her mouth went dry as he ripped the packet open with his teeth, flicked it onto the floor and leveraged himself up just enough to roll it down his length with a couple of quick, jerky moves.
“I’m sorry, Lexi, I wanted to— I meant to—”
He broke off when she ran her hands up over hard shoulders and around to his back, felt for the rough edge of his new scar. God, she was such a baby. She still couldn’t get the sight of it out of her mind, wouldn’t for a long time. And it still made her mad. Mad that he risked himself probably with no more thought than he would if he crossed a street. He’d looked so damn clueless and that had just wound her up all the more. No matter how hard she’d tried she hadn’t been able to rein in her inner bitch and she’d hated that too, although not as much as the knowledge that he’d been hurt.
“It’s okay. Just hurry.”
He swallowed, closed his eyes for a quick second before his gaze was blazing back down into hers. “You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” He positioned himself at her opening, groaned when he found how wet she was. “I know you love getting me off and you have no idea how much that turns me the fuck on.”
She gasped when he slid into her with a rough thrust, stretching her, filling her, forcing tender flesh to accept him.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “God, I’m sorry…”
The intensity of sensation at his hardness inside her was so much more than she remembered. She grabbed onto his flexed biceps, tried to catch her breath. God, how could she have forgotten this exactly?
He eased an unsteady hand between their bodies, right to where they were joined, his thumb finding and rubbing against her clit. He spread her moisture, rough, quick swipes against flesh so sensitive she had to bite her lip to stop herself from begging him to stop, just stop, and fuck her.
He began to move his hips, slight, shallow movements that did nothin
g to satisfy her need for deep, hard and fast.
It’s only sex. It is. Just sex. Just. Sex.
“How’s that working out for you?”
Her eyes flew wide. Nash had stopped moving, his dark features flushed, his brows a dark slash above his eyes.
His mouth tightened. “Yeah, you said it out loud. Does it work? Telling yourself that?”
God, so not fair. How the hell could he form a coherent sentence at a moment like this?
“Ah…no.”
“You know…”he rasped, surging all the way in, finally. “As far as I’m concerned…” And out. “This is as far removed from ‘just sex’ as you can get.”
“You think?” she managed through the sharply indrawn breath as he pushed in and pulled back out again, and again and oh, God, again.
“Oh, yeah, I know.”
His movements were deep and slow, agonizingly slow, the delicious friction sending ripples of pure pleasure through her entire body.
“Ah, know what?” she gasped.
He barked out a laugh, folded his big body down over hers and began thrusting—hard, fast and deep—and she was lost to everything but sensation, hot, pulsing, full-body sensation.
*****
Lexi was sore, sore and satisfied beyond belief. Nash had once warned her he wasn’t a twenty-year-old stud, but last night proved he could give any twenty-year-old horny guy a run for his money.
She smiled, stretching as she walked into the kitchen, figuring she’d start breakfast considering they’d completely missed dinner. Nash had already been up and out early, insisting he needed a run to work out the rest of his kinks. She froze at the newspaper he’d left lying on the table, opened to the community section, and leaned closer for a better look. Someone had snapped a photo at the exact moment she’d walked into Nash’s arms at the airport yesterday.
No one looking at the picture would have recognized them necessarily. From the angle, their faces weren’t clear but she knew it was them, just as she would have known Nash’s arrogant stance anywhere. Along with her favorite work boots, because even though she’d caved and gone to pick him up, she’d refused to change out of her work gear.
God, she was wrapped around him and must have practically launched herself at him. She hadn’t even remembered doing that, had been aware of nothing but the need to touch him, to make sure he was real, to grab on to him and not let go.