Page 38 of Emmett

“Do you remember what I told you would happen if you talked back to me?” He growls, arching a brow. “Sit down and have a drink.”

I stand firm, staring him down, and he jerks his hand to pull me back toward the stool that I just left. I land on it with a grunt and narrow my eyes at him.

“He’ll take a Manhattan,” Nash tells the bartender, throwing me a self-satisfied smirk.

Minutes later, the drink is set in front of me and I wrap my hand around the glass, glaring daggers at Nash as I bring it to my lips. My eyes don’t leave his as I gulp down the drink, setting the glass back down onto the bar emptied.

“There,” I say as I exhale, “I had a drink.”

Laughter bubbles up from Nash’s chest, cracking open a brilliant smile. He downs the rest of the drink he’d stolen from me and gives the bartender a nod. “Another for each of us,” he says, turning his gaze on me, “and then only water.”

Heat ripples through me and I’m honestly not sure if it’s from his tone or the whiskey, but I don’t move from my seat either way.

I sip the second drink more slowly, savoring it as I really soak in his obnoxiously-handsome features. Every angle of his face is carved from marble; strong and sharp, his jawline defined even through the dark hair that covers it, matching the slick, perfectly-coiffed hair on his head; so dark that it could almost be black, but not quite. The hint of a deep chocolate brown still shines through in the right light.

As Nash sips on his drink, his defined adam’s apple bobs, drawing my eye to his neck and to the crucifix that he always seems to wear around it.

My gaze moves from his neck, trailing down the shape of his body. His clothes are looser-fitted, more casual than I’ve ever seen him wear, but his broad, sculpted build shows through in spite of the forgiving fabric.

Catching myself staring at him, I throw the rest of my drink down my throat to wash down the cold sweat forming at the back of my neck.

I’m not sure how long we sit there, not speaking to one another, before he finally pulls me off of my stool and into the rest of the patrons, all dancing and sweating to the music. Something electric hums between us as we stand immobile, staring each other down.

I want to hit him.

I want to knock him out.

I want to go home.

But more than anything, I just want to…

My hand flies behind his neck, grabbing on tight, and I yank him toward me to meet him in a bruising kiss. My tongue slips into his mouth with a moan as his hands snake over my waist. Pulling my hands to his jaw, I stroke my thumbs over the soft hair of his beard and press my hips against his, letting out a pained groan as my dick strains against my jeans.

While one of his hands balls itself into my hair, the other reaches for my belt and he holds my hips tight to his own.

“I knew you’d want to play again,” he teases.

God damnit.

•

I peek around the door, making sure that the house is quiet and that all of the lights are still out before stepping inside.

“Besilent,” I order.

With Nash behind me, I quickly move through the house, past the kitchen and the dining room, around the banister and up the stairs toward my room. I shove him inside and closethe door behind us, making sure to engage the lock while he kicks his shoes off before I pull off my own and abandon them near the door.

The second that I turn around, Nash presses my back against the door and takes my mouth, nibbling at my lower lip as he pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it to the side. With his hands trailing over my skin, he steps back to look at my body, a grin of approval spreading over his face before he brings his mouth to mine again, and my skin starts to buzz.

I work quickly to unbutton his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it on top of mine on the floor next to us, and I press my palms to his chest to shove him back until he falls backward over the edge of my bed.

“I’m not sure how this next part goes,” I tell him, breathing heavily and more than half terrified. “But show me…teach me.”

A devilish grin spreads across his face, and he cups my cheek as he tells me, “Pretty boy, I am going toruinyou.”

With fire crackling over every inch of my skin, I fumble with my belt, trying to get it off as quickly as possible, my jeans following after, and I palm my erection; I’m so hard it almost fucking hurts.

Nash grabs my face again, pulling me toward him as he lays a bruising kiss to my lips, groaning into my mouth before moving his hands to unbuckle his own belt and shove his pants down, freeing his cock. He’s just as hard as I am, already dripping, and I don’t know how he can stand it.