Page 43 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Criminal – Fiona Apple

Lily

I t had been six days since dinner with the Miller brothers, and my nerves were shredded.

Mom was still holding off on speaking to Julian at the newspaper, but the weight of that decision sat on both our shoulders like a storm cloud waiting to burst. Every day she waited, the more I saw the strain etched into her smile.

In the way her fingers twitched toward her phone before she thought better of it.

She just wanted it over with. To rip the Band-Aid off, confront the truth, and take away Mayor Miller’s leverage once and for all.

But that kind of public honesty took guts we weren’t sure we had left.

“Stop worrying,” Nash murmured beside me, tugging me closer on the big black leather sectional in the den. His arms wrapped around me with such easy confidence that I almost believed him. He pressed a kiss to my hair, soft and grounding. “It’s gonna be fine.”

We were supposed to be watching a movie, something light to distract me, while we killed time before he and Gunner left for their so-called mission of breaking into their dad’s apartment.

Bertie was at a sleepover with Elodie, which meant the house was quiet.

And me? I was having my own version of a sleepover with Nash.

His warmth seeped into me, and I wanted to believe it would all work out. That they’d pull this off, find the deed to the lavender field, and come back before anyone knew they’d gone.

But dread curled low in my stomach like cold smoke.

“What if it isn’t?” I whispered, my fingers twisting in the hem of my shirt. “What if he finds out? What if he catches you in his apartment?”

“He won’t,” Nash said firmly, a calm resolve in his voice that made me both grateful and envious. “Wilder’s meeting him for a late dinner. Eight-thirty sharp. He’s using the excuse that he wants to talk about going into politics.”

I frowned, turning toward him. “And your dad believes that?”

Nash grabbed the remote and paused the film mid-scene. “He will. Wilder always got the lead in school plays, he’s a natural. Plus, he’s been brushing up on policy. You should hear him talk about tax brackets now.”

Despite myself, I laughed, a small, tight sound that broke the tension just enough.

He took my hands in his, surrounding them with his larger, calloused palms. That simple contact, of his rough strength enveloping mine, sent warmth up my arms and into my chest.

“Gunner and I will be in and out before you know it.”

“I hate sitting here, not knowing what’s going on,” I muttered, chewing on my thumbnail. “Why can’t I come with you?”

Nash’s expression hardened. “No way. Not a chance.” He shook his head slowly, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I need you here when I get back.”

It hadn’t been the original plan. But when Mayor Miller rescheduled his lunch with Wilder into a later dinner, they’d had to pivot, and Nash had insisted I stay behind.

“Wilder and Gunner have that poker game after,” he reminded me, voice dropping low and suggestive. “And you and me? We’ve got the whole night. Alone.”

He leaned in and kissed me, slow and coaxing.

His mouth brushed mine like a promise, his hands sliding around my waist, drawing me into the heat of his body.

It wasn’t demanding but I gave in anyway.

Willingly. Desperately. After ten years of distance, this, this quiet closeness, felt like water in a desert.

His lips lingered at the corner of my mouth, before trailing to the hollow beneath my ear.

“I missed this,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Missed you. And I didn’t realize how much until I had you again.”

His fingers traced a slow path beneath the back of my shirt, spreading wide over my spine like he was trying to memorize me by touch.

“I’m sor?—”

“No.” He cut me off gently but firmly. “No more apologies, Lila. It’s over. He can’t hurt us again. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

The conviction in his voice was like steel wrapped in velvet. Unshakable and warm.

I pressed closer, clutching the fabric of his shirt in my fists. “I need you, Nash.”

“You have me.” His voice rasped low in his throat. “All of me.”

And then we weren’t speaking anymore.

We moved together with the desperation of lost time, years apart we couldn’t get back. He pulled my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor, his eyes roaming over me like I was something sacred. Reverent. Famished.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, almost to himself.

His mouth found my breast, his stubble rasping softly over sensitive skin, and I gasped, arching into him. His hand slipped under the waistband of my panties, and the heat of his palm made my thighs tremble.

“Christ,” he muttered, sliding two fingers into me. “You’re already dripping.”

“I’ve wanted you all day,” I panted, hips rocking into his touch. “I need you.”

He stripped the rest of my clothes away with quick, hungry movements, then shoved down his jeans. His cock sprang free, thick and hard and flushed dark.

“You want it rough, baby?” he asked, voice a gravelly growl. “Because I don’t think I can be gentle tonight.”

“Then don’t be,” I whispered, breathless. “I want to feel you lose control.”

That did it.

With a groan, he lifted me effortlessly and sank into me with one brutal thrust, knocking the air from my lungs.

My head fell back, a cry ripping from my throat, but he didn’t pause.

Didn’t hold back. His rhythm was fierce, each thrust a pounding heartbeat against mine, pouring ten years of need and regret and want into every movement.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growled, mouth pressed hot against my throat.

“You,” I gasped, nails digging into his back. “Always you.”

He crushed his mouth to mine, swallowing every sound as he moved harder, faster.

His thumb found my clit with ruthless precision, and the world exploded in a white-hot burst of pleasure.

I shattered around him, crying out his name like a prayer, and moments later, he followed groaning into my neck as he pulsed inside me, his body taut and trembling.

Even then, he didn’t let me go.

He held me through the aftershocks, his breath ragged, his hands tender as they stroked my back. We were tangled together, sweaty, spent, and yet somehow more whole than we’d ever been.

“I’m not letting you go again,” he murmured. “Not for anything.”

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I believed him.

Later, after we’d pulled on clothes and curled beneath a throw blanket on the sectional, Nash tucked me against his chest. The TV played softly in the background, casting flickering light across the room. His thumb traced lazy circles on my arm, a steady rhythm that slowed my heart.

“We will be happy, Lila,” he whispered against my hair. “I swear it.”

My heart swelled so full it ached. “I want that,” I said. “With you. And Bertie. This life.”

“You’ve got it,” he said simply.

But peace was a fragile thing.

The door burst open with a bang, making both of us jolt.

Gunner crashed in like a one-man stampede, slamming the door behind him. His cheeks were pink from the cold night air, eyes wide with urgency.

“Bro, time to go!” he shouted, spotting us disentangling ourselves on the couch. “Dad moved dinner up by an hour. Wilder called from some girl’s place.”

Nash groaned and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “What girl?”

Gunner dropped onto the far end of the sectional. “No idea. But he didn’t sound thrilled.”

He wrinkled his nose at the TV. “What the hell are you watching?”

“The Holiday,” Nash said, deadpan.

Gunner blinked at him. “You do know that’s a Christmas movie, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re gonna tell me next that Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie.”

“It isn’t.”

“Blasphemy,” Gunner muttered, pushing to his feet with dramatic flair.

Nash leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “You know where everything is if you get hungry. We’ll be back soon.”

And just like that, they were gone. Sauntering out the front door like they weren’t about to commit felony-level breaking and entering.

I stood at the window long after they disappeared down the drive, the glass cool beneath my fingers. My breath fogged the pane, and I watched until their headlights vanished over the ridge.

No matter how confident Nash seemed, I knew what was really at stake.

Everything.

And as I watched them go, my heart lodged somewhere high in my throat. Because no matter how confident Nash seemed I knew what was really at stake.