Nash just shrugs. “Guess I’m more interesting than you thought.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bold assumption.”
“But not incorrect.”
“No…” I reply with a slow smile. “Not incorrect at all.”
He brushes a lock of hair off my face, a gesture so simple yet so intimate, it brings a thrill of pleasure to life in my belly.
“I can’t decide if you being here is going to be good for my sanity or terrible for it.” His voice is low, almost like he wished he hadn’t spoken at all.
My breath catches. “Why?”
His gaze lingers on me. “Because I like having you here more than I probably should.”
The words hang between us, open and unguarded.
I don’t know what to do with them other than be thankful I wasn’t the one who said them, so I just stand, awkwardly leaning on my crutches.
“Well.” My voice wavers. “We should probably get some sleep.”
“Yeah.” Nash nods but doesn’t move.
I step past him, and he follows, slow and suddenly awkward. We stop outside my door.
The hallway feels too quiet now. The air thick. All I can think about is his lips on mine, my hands in his hair, desire coiling through me like a serpent in the garden, leading me towards my next worst decision.
I look up. Nash is watching me closely.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I whisper.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to kiss me.”
He swallows. Steps closer. Tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Only if you stop first.”
We both freeze. Someone clears their throat. We laugh a little.
“Sorry about that,” I say, going for cool and landing on self-conscious. “Wine goes straight to my head.”
“Must be it,” he replies, storm-gray eyes locked on mine.
“Goodnight, Nash.”
“Goodnight, Lucy.”
I turn to enter the room, then his hand is on my arm, drawing me back and we crash into each other.
No hesitation. No buildup. Just hands and mouths and the sudden ache of too much wanting.
His fingers slide into my hair. My hands find the edge of his shirt. We’re barely holding back and barely touching and somehow, it’s already too much.
The kiss is nothing like I imagined.
It’smore.
It’s not careful. It’s not gentle.
