Page 20

K ENDALL

What the fuckity fuck? I crank up the treadmill another degree and pump my legs.

It’s been four days since Nash dropped the bombshell on me that he hasn’t had sex in over three years, and he’s been radio silent since.

There’s no way. He’s too alpha. Too hot.

Too goddamn sexy to have turned down the bajillions of sex proposals he’s most likely had since he moved to Boston.

Not to mention he’s a guy. Guys don’t turn down sex. Okay, so guys like Nash who get hit on bajillions of times have to turn down sex or their dicks will fall off, but they surely cave one in a million times.

But not Nash.

I don’t understand. I mean, I guess I do.

He’s a responsible dad, but more than three years without sex?

That’s taking it too far. Not only does it show an incredible amount of restraint, but more so it shows how much he’s devoted to his daughter.

Even if he is a bit of an extremist. His love for her is not something you see every day.

And hell if that doesn’t make my libido crank into overdrive. Shit, it was in overdrive when I walked in on him practically naked in his kitchen. It careened into turbo speed when he kissed me at the Whiskey Buckle. And when he told me about his dry spell the other night?

My vagina incinerated. Well, maybe not. If that were the case I wouldn’t feel it pulsing every time I think about Nash. Squeezing my thighs together, I sprint the last three minutes of my run, then slow to a jog as I cool down.

I’m refilling my water bottle when my phone vibrates against my thigh. God bless the inventor of legging pockets. Best invention ever.

I slide out my phone and when I see Nash Potato’s name, my heart kicks up speed like I’m back on the treadmill again.

NASH POTATO: Are you available to stop by tonight around 9:00?

My vagina does that quivering thing again.

Playing it cool, I don’t respond right away.

I take a few healthy gulps of water, then put my sweatshirt on as I head out to my car.

While it’s warming up, I play around with the radio, open my social media accounts and aimlessly scroll until I find myself stalking the Revolutions page.

I may or may not also be following the Revolutions Man Candy page as well.

I scroll past the other players and pause on the latest one of Nash.

He’s wearing the sexiest little smile as he stands on the sideline with Darius Johnson.

He’s not a sweaty gorgeous mess yet, so the shot had to have been taken during warm ups.

This relaxed, smiley Nash is a rarity. During the game, he’s intense and focused, as all players should be. After the game, he’s usually tense. I get now that it’s because he feels guilty about leaving his daughter and wants to return home.

The few times I’ve seen him at an after party, he’s serious. Now I understand it’s the lack of sex. And the guilt. When he’s with Paisley is the only time I’ve seen him truly smile. Totally at ease.

I want to capture the sparkle in his eye and the adorable grin he wears when he’s with her, but I don’t want to share that side of Nash with the world. Or the side I’m hoping to get a glimpse of tonight.

I take a screenshot of the picture and save it to my phone, then respond to his text.

ME: Sure. Anything I can bring?

He responds immediately.

NASH POTATO: You.

Those fluttery butterflies are meant for someone like Rowan, not me.

I don’t need the sweet talking, the romantic dates, or the gifts. I had those before, and they were all lies. It’s the sex I’m after. Basic biology. Sex therapy. Release.

Like Nash, I don’t need it badly enough where I’m willing to hook up with anyone just to get laid. I mean, I did need that after the Jason shitshow. But I have standards now. Luckily, Nash more than exceeds any standard I could ever create.

As tempted as I am to flirt back, I know that’s not what this is between us. It’s transactional, even if there is chemistry and mutual attraction. He left me hanging for four days, I can leave him hanging for three hours.

Hopefully his dick isn’t hanging in three hours though. I snicker at my joke and head home to shower. Since it’s been so long for both of us, I take my time exfoliating, shaving from my toes to my landing strip, then rub my favorite body butter everywhere I hope Nash’s lips and fingers will touch.

Well, not everywhere . My own natural lubricant is taking care of my much neglected vag. I’m so wet, the cobwebs must have washed away by now.

“Heading out so late?” my mom asks as I come down the stairs dressed instead of in my usual pajama pants and hoodie.

“I want to go with you,” Dani says.

“Sorry, sis, not tonight. Pick a day this week and we’ll go on a sister date.”

“Can we get ice cream?”

“It’s freezing out, honey,” my mom says.

“I want ice cream.”

“What my date wants, my date gets.” I lean down and kiss my sister’s forehead. “Do you still want to go to the grocery store with me tomorrow after work?”

“Yeah. I like food.”

“You and me both, Dani.” I give my mom a hug. “Night, Mom.”

“Are you going out with the girls?” She gives me a once over.

I’m not wearing anything provocative. At least, not that one can see. Underneath my jeans and beige sweater, I’m wearing my favorite lavender lacy thong and matching bra. My makeup isn’t overdone, and my jewelry is minimal. I didn’t want it to look like I was trying too hard to get laid.

I’m sneaking in after Paisley’s asleep, stripping down, having sex, then leaving. No need to overdo it. At least, that’s what I told myself during the last hour while I was getting ready for this sex date.

Not that it’s a date date. Scheduled sex with a gorgeous man without the expectations of anything more. My heart is protected, and Nash doesn’t have to worry about me wanting anything more than something physical.

It’s a win-win.

“I won’t be out late.” I don’t want to lie to my mom, but I don’t want her to think I’m dating anyone either.

We’re close, and I told her almost everything about Jason.

Everything but the secret family. She’s worried about me, and I don’t want her to get her hopes up that I’m venturing back into the dating world.

It takes less than twenty minutes to get to Nash’s house.

Most of the lights are off. I glance up at Paisley’s window and see the faint glow of her nightlight.

Where I know Nash’s room to be is dark, as is most of the downstairs, except the light from the television and what I assume is the light from the kitchen.

As soon as I turn off my car, the front door opens. Nash stands in the doorway, clad in jeans and a tight Henley. He’s wearing socks and no shoes, and for some reason, I find it incredibly sexy.

Hell, he could be wearing the bulkiest sweatpants and an ugly sweater and he’d still be God’s gift to the female population. Scratch that. To all humankind.

I bet even the snarliest of dogs and people-hating cats gravitate toward him. I toss my keys in my purse and climb out of my car. There’s no need to be nervous. I’ve had sex before. Plenty of sex.

“Hey,” Nash says when I reach the bottom step. “Come on in.” He moves aside and I brush past him into his home.

It isn’t the first time I’ve been here, but it’s the first time we’ve been alone. Not that we’re completely alone. Paisley is sleeping. I glance up the stairs and Nash reads my thoughts.

“She’s out cold. Falls asleep hard and fast.”

“Hard and fast. Just how I like it.”

Nash cups his chin in his palm and rubs his face. “You sure about this?”

Knowing he’s nervous about this unchartered territory gives me the strength to pretend to be confident.

“I guess that depends if it’s been so long that you’ve forgotten how to find a woman’s G spot. Assuming you’ve found it before.”

Black eyes pierce me with a snarl. “Is that a challenge?”

I shrug. “I can guide you along. Teach you a few things.”

Nash steps into my space but doesn’t touch me. “Fourteen months?” He touches the end of my hair and wraps a strand around his finger. “You sure your pussy is ready to get wrecked?”

Wrecked? Ho-ly shit. Who would have thunk Mr. Father of the Year a dirty talker in bed? “How do I know you’re not all talk? Trying to scare me away with dirty talk because you’re afraid you won’t be able to keep up?”

A sly smirk forms on his upper lip. “Is this another bet?”

I shake my head. “A challenge.”

“Who can outlast the other?”

“It’s been awhile for both of us. We’re both at a disadvantage. Aren’t you curious who has more sexual stamina and self-control?”

Nash gives my hair a tug before releasing it. “I have plenty of self-control. That’s not the problem.”

“There’s a problem?”

He slowly tips his head up then down. “The problem,” he leans forward and whispers in my ear. “Is that I want to lose control.”

I gulp down my lust and stare into his dark eyes that hide so much. “Give it your best shot, Potato.”

He doesn’t wait another second and pushes me against the wall, slamming his mouth down on mine. I open for him, and our tongues start a battle of control, to which I easily surrender, letting him dominate me.

My hands are trapped between our bodies, and I clutch at the front of his shirt before sliding one hand to the front of his jeans. In a move so fast it would make Superman proud, Nash grips my wrist and slams my hand against the wall above my head.

“Not yet,” he growls into my mouth.

“Afraid your stamina isn’t enough to keep up.”

“Fuck, yeah.” He moves his mouth to my neck and nips, licks, and leaves a trail of kisses from my collarbone to behind my ear. “If you touch me, I’ll come in my jeans.”

I tip my head back so he has easier access. “That sounds like tonight is going to be a disappointing night.”

Nash’s other hand cups my chin and squeezes my cheeks. “There’s not a chance in fucking Hell I’m letting you leave disappointed, Kendall.”