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CHAPTER ELEVEN

VALE

Neatly, Nash folds our dirty clothes, one piece at a time, before packing them into our duffels.

I grin, sitting on the bed, watching his ritual, and get busted.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

He raises a brow.

“By all means, move at a glacial pace,” I answer. “I’ll be a hundred by the time you’re done, and I don’t want to leave anyway.”

“We can’t stay forever.”

“I really hate that word— can’t. ”

“It’s a contraction,” he corrects me.

“It’s a heartbreak,” I confess softly, and he nods, looking away.

It suffocates us; everything we can’t do. Didn’t do.

Four days of luxury have passed, and all the spa baths and Nash’s spoiling gave me the shortest period I’ve had in years. It’s gone, and physically I feel great. But now we have to go. So, emotionally, I’m a hot mess.

I wish we could stay in The Mercier Hotel forever. Here, I see how my sister lost her heart to a man. It’s a lavish escape from the world, and Nash has been perfect.

He watched movies with me. Although he hated my favorite horror flicks, he seemed content to sit beside me on the sofa. Probably because I wasn’t talking.

He ordered massages for us in our room. Facials, too. The way he scowled in a green mud mask? The Grinch would be upstaged. I laughed so hard. “Say ‘moisture.’” I tried to snap a pic of him, too, but he wouldn’t let me.

He slept in the king-sized bed with me because I asked. Every time I think of what could happen to me if I get taken by his enemy, I don’t want Nash to leave my side.

But we didn’t do anything. He didn’t make a move.

He can’t.

It was just brief touches. Heavy sighs. Tender laughs. Quick kisses to my hair. Ugh! It was so goddamn sweet and innocent; we were like teenage virgins wearing purity rings and not adults who wanted to fuck in a hot frenzy of need.

We check out, and Jace drives us back to my apartment, which now feels even smaller.

Nash makes my second favorite dinner: lasagna. At least he satisfies my stomach. The man can cook.

While I wash the dishes, I side-eye him on the loveseat, reading my book, She Comes First.

My stomach flips. Is he telling me something ?

It makes heat and tension fill every minute and molecule between us. I notice every lick of his lips. He lifts his glance, watching every subtle move I make. I catch how he adjusts himself, suspecting he’s on the chapter about the cunnilinguist manifesto, and desire claws at my insides, wanting out, wanting him. Even in my shower, I can’t escape it. I feel Nash everywhere, but I don’t touch ... him or me.

I can’t.

I know it will unlock something inside me, and I won’t be the same. I know I’ll suddenly be real, be in love, be lost forever to him, and everyone will see it.

I don’t know how Nash is holding back because I’m not sure I can anymore. This is starting to hurt way more than it used to, and the cure to my pain sleeps right next to me.

But then I remember how it strengthens my resolve whenever Alena calls or texts. Or I’ll hear how Nash softens his tone when she calls him. “Yes, sweetpea,” is his answer to every wish she has for her wedding.

We can’t.

He loves her. I love her. And if you’ve ever seen Alena’s deep brown eyes when she cries, you’d never want to be the cause of her tears, either.

But I shed tears, too, because tonight, Nash emerges from my steamy bathroom wearing dark ink, tan muscles, black cotton pajama pants, and nothing else.

He’s beautiful. So beautiful it’s painful. I have to roll over; I have to turn away.

“Are you ready to return to the real world tomorrow?” he asks, lifting the covers as I turn off my lamp.

He settles into his spot on my bed, and I can feel his heat. Can he not feel this, too? How the air crackles between us. Is he not losing his mind? Because I am.

Why can’t he be a horny beast when I need him to be? Why can’t he just take over like he always does and end our torture? Why won’t he make me do what we really want?

Why can’t I have this man, the only one who’s cared about me?

“The real world sucks,” I whisper.

“Why do you say that?”

I hug my pillow. It’s not enough. Tears bite at my eyes, choking my voice. “Just forget it.”

“Vale?” He turns toward the center, toward me. I can feel his every move, hear his every breath. “Vale.” His fingertips brush down my bare arm. “What’s wrong?”

His tenderness makes me cry even more. I stifle a sob. “You know what’s wrong.”

He withdraws his touch, and for too long, he’s silent.

No. Did he fall asleep? Did he leave me feeling alone like this? Does he not care? Did he pick his daughter over us? I want him to. It’s the right thing. I don’t ever want to hurt Alena.

But … I’m so tired of hurting, too. I’m tired of never feeling loved. I’m tired of?—

“Will you let me fix what’s wrong?” His voice sounds strained.

“We can’t ,” I whisper.

“Will you let me try?”

“ You can’t.”

“Oh, I will.” I’ve never heard his voice sound so husky, either. “For one night, I’ll show you what it feels like and?—”

“But what if we get?—”

“Shut up.” He says it in the softest, sweetest, sexiest way. Pressing his hot, hard body against mine, I gasp at his erection, barely veiled by his pajama bottoms, urging against my backside. His sweet, leather aroma engulfs me, his lips steaming over my ear, demanding, “Get out of your head, Vale. It’s time to let me inside instead.”

It’s not possible . I can’t…

The sudden soft brush of Nash’s fingertips over the curve of my waist while he ruts his hard cock against my cheeks makes shivers pulse through my body.

He presses closer, his nude concrete chest against my back. The room is dark. I have no sight or senses. Nothing but Nash’s heat and touch barely thrilling my flesh.

His big hand slowly slides under my tank top, his warm palm skimming over my belly, making it quiver. He sighs, pressing his lips to my ear. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

The pad of his thumb barely teases the swell of my breast, and I moan, my nipples tightening, anticipating.

“But you know that, don’t you?” he asks, fondling my breast, palming its weight. “You know how long I’ve wanted you. You were eighteen, and I was thirty-two. Do you remember?”

“What?” I’m shocked. Confused. He can’t know. I try twisting around, but he holds me too tight. I can’t move.

“Shhh.” His fingertip slowly traces around my puckered nipple, making arousal, like waves of warm oil, radiate down my body. “Don’t overthink this. Just feel it.” He starts rubbing my nipple, increasing his pressure, making me arch into his touch, my body quivering with lust. “Just remember that night by my pool because I do. I can’t forget it. Every time I come, I think about it.” He pinches my nipple. “I think about you, Vale.”

“Oh, god,” I moan at the rush of sensation, at his confession, at my guilt that he knows what I did.

“You were a very bad girl for me, weren’t you?” He pinches even harder.

“Yes,” I moan.

“And you liked it, didn’t you? You liked being dirty for me?”

“Yes.”

He grinds his granite length against my backside, his lips on my ear wetting my sex and memory, “You caught me, didn’t you? You watched me jerk off by my pool.”

I moan, my mind there with him, my body here with him now. With Nash reaching for my other breast, so I turn his way, just a bit, as he palms it, taunting, “What did you see, Vale?”

“I saw you.” He tickles my right nipple, circling as it tightens, making me pant, “You were on a lounger. You had your pajamas pulled down.”

“Black pajamas like these?” He grinds against me.

God, he’s huge, and damn, he’s hard.

“Yes. Yes, like those, and you sorta had your back to me, but I could see you and?—”

“You saw my cock, didn’t you?” He pinches my nipple. “You saw how hard I was. How I was stroking it? Tell the truth, dirty girl.”

“Yes.”

“What was in my hand, Vale?” He tugs my nipple, not letting go. He dry humps my ass, and I grind it back on him, moaning as he growls, “What was I being a filthy, fucking man about and jerking off with because I couldn’t help myself? You drove me fucking insane for you.”

This is so erotic. I’ve never been this wet in my life. Get out of your head, Vale. Just this memory. Just his words. Just his touch.

“My bikini. My bottoms. I left them outside to dry, and you were jerking off with them. Into them.”

His lips press harder, hotter over my ear. “It was like I was fucking your pussy, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I pant, my nipples tingling, my cunt aching.

“And what did that make you do?” Brutally, he tugs my nipple so hard, I love it, crying out as he confesses, “Because I could see you, Vale. I was watching you in the mirror above the bar in the cabana. I could see what my lust for you made you do for me .”

That’s how! Oh my god, that’s how he knows what I did, and I suddenly feel no shame about it. He never hated me. He saw me. He wanted me and knew I wanted him, too.

“I touched myself while I watched you.”

“Yes, you did.” His breath moves to my neck, his hand drifting down my belly. “You touched yourself … like this.”

Slowly, his hand glides under my panties, his fingertips sliding over my slick lips. “ Fuck , my poison, you’re so wet for me now.” He does it again, drifting his fingertips over where I’m dying for him. The ache is excruciating. “Were you this wet that night?”

“No.” I can’t stand it. “Now, I want you even more.” I reach, tugging my panties down.

“Leave them on,” he growls. “Leave them around your thighs like yours were that night. Weren’t they? You were so dirty for me. You pulled your panties down and stepped your thighs apart so you could do this…”

With the tip of his middle finger, he circles my clit, and I scream, “Nash, please!”

“But you couldn’t scream that night, Vale, could you? Because you were being such a good girl for me.” He keeps circling my ache, and I’m writhing, my breath panting for him. “You silently watched me stroke my cock for you, knowing that I wanted you, that I was imagining fucking you. I hated myself for it, but now, I don’t. I’m gonna love making you scream for me.”

He plunges two of his thick, long fingers inside my aching wet cunt, and I groan, my back arching, the need for him sweet agony. “Oh my god, don’t stop,” I beg.

“Look at me,” he demands. “Open up for me.”

By his heavy, heated tone, he means every part of me, my heart, too, and I obey. I turn, lying on my back for him, and open my eyes, but, “Nash, I?—”

“It’s too dark,” he grumbles, “and I’ve waited too long to watch you come.”

He slides his fingers out, and I gasp, needing him inside as he leans over, reaching across me to turn on the lamp. His inked pec, his hard nipple hovers over my lips, and I’ve studied men’s erogenous zones, so I lift my lips, sucking it before flicking it with my tongue.

“Fuck, Vale,” he groans, almost flinching, as a warm light floods the room. “Fuck, baby, don’t make this about me right now. This is for you.” He settles back beside me.

“Promise me,” I beg. “Promise me I get to do this to you, too.”

“Do what?” He props on his elbow, gazing down at me with the devil in his brown eyes as his heavenly fingers slide back inside my pussy. “This?”

“Yes,” I groan, my eyes rolling, my hips too, lifting for more of him.

“You want to make me come with your hand? Like this?” His thumb circles my clit again, his two fingers slowly pumping inside.

“With my hand,” I pant, opening my eyes. I stare up at him, swearing, “With my pussy, my mouth, my throat, my virgin ass. I’ll make you come harder than you ever have before. You’ve never had a woman like me, one that’s yours. That night was the first time I ever came, and now I can only come thinking about you.”

His eyelids hood with lust, his lips parting. “Vale.” His lips near mine. “Vale, goddamn, I want you. I always have.”

He moves to kiss me, but I flinch. “I don’t,” I stammer. “I don’t kiss on the lips. I can’t … It’s just that?—”

“Shh, it’s okay.” His lips brush over my jaw, nearing my ear. “Can I kiss you everywhere else?”

“Please.”

“Are you mine?

“Yes,” I sigh.

“Like here?”

When Nash’s hot, hungry mouth claims my neck while his fingers thrust inside me, his thumb flicking my clit, it’s a tsunami rising. Pleasure builds in my body, soaking my sex; I couldn’t stop its force if I wanted to. It’s coming, I can feel it. “Oh, god.”

He lifts from my neck, his eyes locking to mine. He sees my edge; it’s my torture; I always get trapped here. It’s the cage I can’t escape.

“Do you remember how I came for you, Vale?” But he takes over my mind. He’s in it, not me, with his thumb strumming my clit. “Do you remember how hard I fucked your bikini in my fist? How I lifted my hips, thrusting and desperate like it was my cock pumping into your tight pussy? How I arched my back and said your name? How I came, shooting my cum all over my abs, grunting and in so much fucking pain for you?”

“Yes. Yes.” My thighs shake. My lips, too.

“You came for me, Vale,” he growls. “I watched you, fucking your pretty pussy with your hand. Your lips parted. Your thighs quaked. Your shoulders shook while you convulsed, coming so fucking hard watching me come that I spurted again. I couldn’t stop coming for you either.”

And I am now. “Oh, god.” I thrash, but he bears down, his thumb igniting my clit. “Oh god, Nash, I’m coming.”

He curls his fingers so hard inside my pussy, claiming my core, I can’t escape him. I can’t escape his control. I can’t escape this pleasure. “Good girl,” he coaxes, and I explode.

White light takes my vision. I buck so hard, groaning with the release, but he won’t stop. I won’t stop. Like a pleasure bomb that won’t end, lighting every nerve inside me, my orgasm detonates down my body, spilling over his hand jerking inside me.

“Fuck, Vale,” he sighs, “you’re squirting, baby. You’re squirting for me. Keep coming.”

Another spasm racks my spine before my sight returns. It finds Nash, and I moan, feeling my sex clench, wanting him. I can’t find my breath, my body shaking uncontrollably until he gently leaves my pussy empty, pulsing, dripping, and satisfied as warm, luscious quivers ripple through me.

“Oh my god,” I sigh, full of awe. “Oh my god, Nash, you made me come.”

The way he gazes down at me, everything we feel and fear, fills his loving eyes. He’s not a beast. Not with me.

I can’t help it. I start crying.

Happy tears.