“No,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Just needed a breather. You were really good up there. The band. The band was really good.”
God, how many martinis did I have?I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or him that has me stammering like this.
“Um, anyway,” I continue, turning the rest of my body to face him. “About earlier…I don’t want things to be awkward between us. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot and I kind of snapped at you, but we need to have a very clear understanding. We need to keep things professional. I can’t afford to mess this up. This job matters to me,” I ramble.
He rubs his jaw, amused. “Matters so much you can’t tell me if you have a boyfriend.”
“What?”
“You never answered my question. Do you have a boyfriend?” he says, turning and shifting closer.
I know I should step away, but my feet betray me.
I scoff. “You are nothing if not persistent.”
He grins wide, unfazed. “I like to think of it as determined.”
I shake my head, fighting the smile that threatens my lips. “You’re playing with fire, Nash.”
“Answer the question, Avery.”
His assertiveness surprises me. My name on his lips shouldn’t sound so good.His eyes catch the light from the streetlamp, cat-like and bright.
Folding my arms in front of me, I say, “I don’t, but that doesn’t—”
Before I can finish, his lips are on mine.
His kiss is tender and certain, and I feel myself melt against the warmth of him, all my objections fading away. His fingers weave into my hair, drawing me closer to him. He teases my lips with a soft lick, and I part them for him, our tongues dancing together as my hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.
“Nash,” I whisper, meaning to stop him, but his mouth answers mine, erasing thoughts of what’s smart or safe.
Of what’s off limits.
His hands find their way to my hips, pressing me firmly against the wall. His mouth captures the soft moan that escapes me. He holds me tightly as he trails kisses down my neck, each one sending shivers through my skin. My fingers instinctively thread through his hair, pulling him closer.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
“Nash,” I say more forcefully.
He pauses, drawing back with a look of concern etched on his face.
“I should—” I start, but I can’t form the words. His nearness makes me dizzy. Exhaling a flustered breath, I steady myself. “I should go.”
I half expect him to be disappointed. Instead, a playful grin spreads across his face.
“Need a ride home?”
“I—no,” I manage. “I’ll get an Uber.”
“You sure?” he asks, tilting his head to look down at me.
“Positive,” I say. “You’ve done more than enough tonight.”
“I’d like to do more.” He’s such a flirt. “I have my bike. Let me take you home.”
Of course he has a fucking motorcycle.
“Nope. No way. That can’t happen. None of this can happen. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
