He nods. “Nathan died the day my father left. Changing my name the day I turned eighteen was just another way to cut all ties with him. Night’s my mom’s maiden name. She’s terrific. The last thing I wanted to do was cut ties with her.”
The vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty of his words, tugs at something deep inside me. I realize that what he’s sharing is more than just a story—it’s a piece of his soul.
“Thank you,” I whisper, “for telling me… for trusting me with a glimpse of who you are when the stage lights go down.”
All the affection that’s been building and swirling inside me since shortly after we met bursts inside me like fireworks. This man isn’t my nemesis, someone to trade barbs with or have as a dinner companion. We’re connected now, and frankly, he’s yet to share a part of himself that I don’t like and respect.
Nyxx’s thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, sending shivers all the way to my neck. “Thanks for listening. And for not looking at me like I’m a freak.”
“Never,” I say firmly. “Your eyes are part of what makes you… you. And I…” I trail off, suddenly aware of how physically close we’ve gotten.
Nyxx’s gaze intensifies, those mesmerizing eyes searching mine. “You what, Anastasia?”
My heart races as I gather my courage. “I… I’m sorry I asked you to call me Anastasia. It was my attempt at enforcing a boundary. You were an easy target for my first attempt at assertiveness.Frankly,” I sigh, “I liked it so much better when you called me Ana. It makes me feel like… you like me.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Ana,” he says softly, and my name has never sounded so beautiful on anyone else’s lips. It eases under my skin and swirls inside my belly like a warm caress. “I more than like you.”
The air between us crackles with expectation. Nyxx leans in, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, his breath close enough to warm my skin.
Unable to find my voice, I nod.
His lips meet mine, soft and tentative at first. It’s nothing like I imagined—and I’ve imagined kissing Nyxx a lot over the last few days. It’s better. His mouth is warm, scented faintly of the spices from our dinner. His lips brush against mine, whisper-soft, as though I’m a fawn he doesn’t want to frighten with too swift a movement.
He releases a soft, “Mmm,” then nudges the tip of my nose with his. He pulls back enough to gaze into my eyes. The look he gives me feels as though it’s penetrating my soul.
How strange that the wild child of rock and roll is treating me like I might vanish if he moves too fast. Instead of overthinking, I do what he’s been teaching me all week—follow instinct.
I initiate the next kiss, shockingly, it’s bolder than his as I press my lips to his in a soft smacking noise, then suck that pouty bottom lip into my mouth. Just this little intimacy sets me sooff balance that my lids slam shut and I grip his muscular shoulders, holding on to keep from spiraling into the night sky.
Perhaps it’s how hard I’m clutching him, or the ferocity of my mouth on his, but his tender, tentative kisses turn passionate from one heartbeat to the next. His tongue claims my mouth like it’s already his.
The kiss deepens. His hand slides into my hair, guiding me, angling me, drawing me closer. His stubble grazes my skin, and I gasp against his mouth. He answers with a rough exhale that tastes like heat and promise.
In my past, kisses have been polite, silent affairs, but this is Nyxx Night. I should have known this kiss, like everything else about him, wouldn’t be mundane.
He’s devouring me, letting me hear little sighs and hums of appreciation. I melt into him, my fingers moving from his shoulders to slide through his hair. The world narrows to just this moment—the feel of Nyxx’s lips moving against mine, the solid warmth of his body, the mingled scents of sandalwood and forest air.
It’s as though I just dropped into this body from another dimension. I’ve never felt like this, never been kissed like this—so tenderly, yet with a fierce passion that leaves no doubt about his desire. Did I seriously ask if helikedme? The word’s laughable now, flimsy and small compared to this fire.
His rough stubble grazes my cheek when he withdraws to grab a shaky breath. Is he as affected by this kiss as I am? I lean backin, slip my hand to his nape, pull him closer, and brush his lips with mine.
“Ana.” It’s all he says before he plucks my bottom lip with his teeth, then licks it. Sweet and soft and full of fire.
He makes a satisfied little noise that vibrates against my tongue, and then we kiss with the fervor and excitement of people who’ve discovered a new continent. I’m drowning in his spicy taste and the now-familiar scent of him. His hands roam my back as though he wants to memorize every inch of me and never let me go.
This isn’t just a kiss. It’s an exploration, an exchange. There was something about him laying himself open to me, telling me about his deepest wound, that intensified our bond. It’s as though every second we’ve spent together since the moment we met was in service to this. This moment of letting down our guards, opening ourselves to each other at a deeper level.
Somehow, without breaking the kiss, he eases us out of our chairs and steps with me to the wooden bench that rings the gazebo’s interior edge. The wrought-iron chairs would have been barriers; this space lets us move, breathe, tangle. I end up half in his lap, one knee braced beside his hip, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as if learning an instrument by touch alone.
It’s heaven being in his arms. When I twist just a few inches, my nipples brush his chest. Sparks flare from their tips straight to my core.
I’ve neverwantedlike this before.Lustedlike this before. Clutching his nape tighter, it’s me who delves into his mouth, me who controls the kiss. Who is this Anastasia? This bold woman who reveals her passion to a man she barely knows?
It’s the woman who, without preparation, played to strangers in the town square today. The new Ana, who is becoming something different, better, freer.
Without second-guessing myself, I straddle his hips, settle lower onto him, and grind against the hard ridge inside his jeans. Some distant Anastasia is watching, mouth open, eyes wide, aghast at my brazen, lusty need. Fuck her!
Hands planted on his shoulders, mouths fused in a kiss that feels like the center of the universe, I ride him. Pleasure ignites everywhere at once; my clit’s in charge now, mind hijacked and body compliant.Moans break free. I never dreamed release could feel like this—but I was wrong.
