Nash (24 page)

had never actually seen it. You were supposed to be able to see the entire city from up there.

“Is that where you used to take girls?”

“Uh, no. By the time I knew girls had more going for them than the fact that they smelled good and

would do my homework for me if I told them they were pretty, I was pretty much living with Phil full-time.

Dude is a player, way worse than Rule or I ever was. I had the house to myself pretty much every night, so

when I got the opportunity I just took them home.”

“What do you mean ‘got the opportunity’?” I remembered girls hanging all over him in high school. It

didn’t look like he had to work too hard at finding a willing bed partner.

“I hung out with a dude in a band, every chick’s idea of the perfect rebel, and the captain of the football

team. I was just some guy with a bad attitude that was constantly getting told what a mistake I was at home.

I didn’t know how to talk to girls that mattered. I had girls floating around that were easy and would put

out … they didn’t really care who the guy was. That means they could’ve been into Rule for the night, or

Jet. Opportunity definitely had to play into it.”

That was so odd. My perception and the reality of everything back then just seemed so different. I

wanted to ask him more about it, but we got to an outcropping of rock that was flat and just long enough

and wide enough for him to park the car. He killed the headlights and threw an arm over the back of the

seat and looked at me in the now-dim interior of the front seat.

“We can go back to the city. You say the word.”

I didn’t answer him. I lifted up and wiggled over the back of the seat instead. I pulled off my flannel

shirt along the way. He left the car running, but it was still January in Colorado and we were high up in the

foothills, so it was brisk in the car and the windows were already fogging up. He watched me for a second

and then got out of the car. There was no way he was fitting over the seat like I did, and he pulled his wallet

out on the way. He handed me the square foil packet and climbed in, pulling the door shut behind him. He

stripped off his hoodie and hat and we sat facing each other.

I thought he would grab me and pull me to him, but a ghost of a smile teased around his mouth and he

pushed back his broad shoulders so that he was lounged across the leather seat.

“This is your game, Saint. How do you want to play?”

He was always putting me in the driver’s seat, pushing my limits, making me say what I wanted from

him. Maybe that was why I never froze up with him, why I never had to question what was happening

between us, because everything that was happening was what I was asking for. There was no room for

rejection or judgment that way.

I shivered, and not at all from the cold.

“I want you to kiss me.”

He reached out and caught my braid in his hand and used it to reel me in. When our mouths touched, it

was so much more than a simple kiss. He tasted like the past and like the future, the then and the now. He

felt so strong and solid, but his lips were soft and searching. His skin was rougher than normal, but when

he pulled me closer and our noses bumped, the glide of that little piece of metal he wore was smooth. He

twirled his tongue with mine, and used his teeth on the plush curve of the inside of my lip. I gasped into the

kiss and felt him chuckle. Before, I would have automatically assumed he was laughing
at
me. Now I knew

he was just amused because it felt that good and he knew it.

My hands were on his chest and I used them to start pulling his shirt up across his flat stomach. He

helped by lifting his arms up as much as he could. Considering the confined space and how broad across he

was, it took a little finesse to get the fabric out of my way. Goose bumps danced across his golden skin and

I bent my head to trace the ones across his collarbone with the tip of my tongue, which made him grunt.

“Now I want to kiss you.”

He was still holding my hair like a rope, so he had to loosen his hold when I ran the flat of my tongue

over one of his nipples and then the other.

He swore and muttered, “Headed the wrong direction for that, pretty lady.”

I traced the ridges of his defined abs with my fingers and watched in delight as the muscles tensed and

flexed along with the caress. It made it look like the wings along his abs were fluttering in the night air.

“No I’m not. I’m a little worried about working around all that metal down there, but I’m definitely

headed in the right direction.”

He swore again and I started working on his belt buckle. It wasn’t something I had done more than

once and Nash was working with some heavy-duty equipment, but I was fascinated by it all and wanted to

make him feel as good as he always made me feel.

“Just act like it isn’t there.”

“Why? It might be my favorite part.”

He laughed again, but it turned into a groan when he fell out hot and hard into my waiting hands. He

was throbbing, thick and anxious, as I hovered over him. I rubbed my thumb over the ring in the tip and

his entire body jerked in response. I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding and he muttered my name

softly as the moist air caressed his ready flesh.

I dropped my head and pulled the pierced head into my mouth. It was a texture and sensation overload,

must have been for him, too, because he bowed up and his hand jerked on my hair hard enough that it hurt

a little bit.

“Jesus.” No, not quite, just Saint, but I would take it as a sign he liked it.

I rolled the hoop across my tongue, skated down over that hidden barbell and farther down the shaft

until I felt like I couldn’t take any more. I slid back up and repeated the exact same motion again, only this

time I added a hand around the base that I squeezed with my bobbing motion because he was just too much

to take in. He said my name again, I felt the legs I was using to brace on tense and his stomach go rock-

hard, but right as I was starting to taste the slippery, salty release that would let me know it was a job well

done, he pulled at my hair so hard it actually hurt for real and yanked me up and off of him.

He was breathing hard and his eyes were indigo. “If you do that much longer, one of us is gonna end up

cold and horny. Hint, it won’t be me.”

He started pulling on my stretchy yoga pants. I was super glad I had worn something that was easy to

wiggle and twist out of with very little room and big impatient hands getting in my way. He abandoned the

bottom half of my outfit and went to work manhandling my tank top off over my head. I had to admit it

was gratifying that I could actually feel how ready, how needy, he was for me. That was a powerful mood

enhancer, and as soon as I got my panties off over the toe of my sneaker and he had himself covered, he

pulled me down over him and we both made a noise that could only be described as animalistic. It was

guttural, deep, and we both felt it as we joined together.

I leaned forward a little and he took advantage of my new position by pulling my nipple into his mouth.

I felt the tug and pull all the way at my core, just like I felt the way that metal he was wearing pressed

insistently against my G-spot. I moved up and down, set a quick and hurried pace because it was cold and

because I knew he was already close. It felt amazing; he always knew what do to build the pleasure up, to

take me out of myself and just feel, but given the tight quarters, the limited mobility either of us had, I

could tell he was holding back, could see the tendons in his neck straining while he waited for me to catch

up.

“Nash …”

“Shit, Saint, you’re gonna have to help me out here. Give me a hand.” Both his hands were occupied

helping me maintain the sexy ride up and down without hitting my head on the roof of the car. I glanced

down at him and his meaning was clear. Sure, he could have finagled it, let go with one hand, but he was

doing it again, pushing the boundaries I thought I knew were clear.

I didn’t even like to admit I touched myself to myself, and he wanted me to do it not only in front of

him but while I was on top of him, joined to him. It was a clear challenge, one I should be pissed he was

throwing down right in the middle of sex that was supposed to be nostalgic and fun, but I wanted to come,

wanted him to let go because I could feel it pulsating in him. I loved how ridged and hard he was where he

was buried inside me and he was holding on by a thread, forcing me to take one more step out of my

comfort zone, trying to obliterate what I thought I knew.

I didn’t think, just let the hand that wasn’t holding on to the back of the front seat for balance dip

between our undulating bodies, between my slick and spread folds, until I was touching that little heart of

pleasure that was already sensitized and tight.

“Oh my.” It was barely a whisper that was drowned out by his roar of completion, just by watching me

do what he asked.

It didn’t take much, just a feathery pet, a light stroke of a fingertip and I was shoved right over the edge

right behind him. I was a lot quicker about it, but he pulled me across his heaving chest and sealed our

mouths together in a kiss that tasted like satisfaction and always.

“That was probably the hottest, most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He sounded gruff and a little

winded.

I didn’t know what to say to that, never did, so I put my cheek on the hard curve of his pec and told

him, “We’re getting really good at having sex while you’re still wearing your pants.”

He laughed drily and ran his hands softly up and down my spine. He didn’t call me on it, but I knew it

bothered him that I never responded to his compliments. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to know how, that

we were ever going to see the same person he saw when he looked at me.

CHAPTER 11

Nash

“Wow, dude, this place … it’s epic.”

Rule let out a low whistle as we walked through the empty space that was going to be the home of the

new shop. Time just kept rolling on, and before I knew, months had come and gone and I still hadn’t been

to the place. Now I felt like a loser because it
was
epic and it was sandwiched between two of the busiest

restaurants in LoDo, across the street from a popular sports bar, right around the corner from all the coffee

shops and boutiques that drew people to LoDo in the first place. It was right in the heart of the thriving city

and way more stylish and trendy than the Marked was. I felt seriously out of my depth here.

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked at Rule out of the corner of my eye. We didn’t exactly fit in

here, and I had no idea how he and I, two beer and chicken-wings dudes, were supposed to make a place

that looked like mimosas and caviar a moneymaking business. I felt like we were scaring the locals just by

being here, and there was so much work to be done. All of it was overwhelming.

Before Phil had tied us into the place, it had been some kind of exotic tea and coffee shop. It wasn’t in

any way set up to be a tattoo parlor, which is why Rule and I had taken the afternoon off to get the lay of

the land and meet Rowdy’s friend so he could look the place over and tell us what he thought about it all. I

thought it seemed like a long shot, but Rule was intrigued by it and he was totally on board with Rowdy’s

idea about expanding what we did and turning the upstairs into a retail store. Besides, I owed Phil nothing

less than making his dream a reality.

“We are going to turn this into such a badass shop.” Rule sounded so sure of that.

I wish I had his enthusiasm, and admittedly some of my hesitation came from the fact that Phil’s health

was steadily declining. I was watching the disease wither him away, and there was nothing I could do about

it. So investing in this shop, getting excited about it the way Rule was, seemed to me like I wasn’t even

waiting until Phil was gone to act on his wishes. Plus he was still pushing me to ask my mom for answers

to all the questions I had, and I didn’t want to waste any of the time we had left arguing about it with him.

“I feel like we’re going to need to offer our clients infused water and hot towels, as swanky as this

location is.”

Rule laughed and walked to the glass door at the front to let in the guy who knocked. They shook

hands, and now that I could put a name to the face, I knew I had seen him in Rowdy’s chair more than

once. Zeb Fuller was a big dude with dark hair and a serious, unsmiling face. This wasn’t a guy that looked

like he had ever lived life easy and carefree. He had Rowdy’s signature old-school style of tattooing scrolled

all along both sides of his neck and peeking out of the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt.

He walked over and shook my hand as well and let his gaze search the mostly empty space. He totally

looked like the kind of guy that could tear the place apart with his bare hands and then build it back up. I

could see why Rowdy recommended him.

“Swanky digs.”