I barely get my “I’m coming, Nash” out before the next drive of his hips catapults me over the edge, making me scream and whimper as I go.
With his hands filled with me and me filled with him, he’s not far behind me as the filthiest of words come off his lips. The chants of my name fill the space between praises of how good he feels inside me. How right at home. How long he’s been waiting and how much he’s missed me.
Breathless and slick with sweat, he falls against me, laughing in my ear as our hearts ricochet between his chest and mine.
“Shit,” he says, panting as he kisses my neck. “I missed that.”
“I missed you,” I say, buzzing in a blissed-out afterglow.
“Hm.” He rubs his nose against my cheek, and I trace the lines of a tattoo on his shoulder, dazed as he says, so easily, “Well, I love you, Rue Conway.”
Bliss morphs to emotion right in the middle of my chest.
Then we spend all night making up for lost time.
Thirty-Five
Nash swims a full lap before seeing me sitting at the edge of the pool. He’s next to me with four easy strokes, wrapping his wet hands around my calves and kissing each of my knees.
“Morning.” There’s a hint of sleep left in his voice.
I grin like an idiot. “Morning yourself.”
The chill of the water sends goose bumps up my legs. He kisses my knees again. “I’m surprised you have energy to be awake.”
“I could say the same.”
He rumbles with a knowing laugh, squeezing my calves.
At some point while I was watching him sleep, I became completely at peace with how we played out. Maybe we weren’t ready all those years ago, but we might be now. Maybe everything that happened had to happen to get us here.
I’m telling him about Bennie today, but it doesn’t feel so crushing. Mostly because I rehearsed every word I’m going to say, and any logical person would understand why I did what I did.
Every single way I’ve played this out ends with him not hating me. He can’t.
“You do this every morning?”
“You should know,” he teases. “But yeah. Most mornings. Clears my head and wakes me up.”
“Naked?”
He grins. “Never know when it might come in handy.” His eyes drop to my shirt. “You should join me.”
I scoff. “I’m not skinny dipping.”
“But you’ll shower back here?”
Fair.
He rubs his hands along the tops of my thighs. “Girl I once knew would get naked in all kinds of places. Vineyards. Creeks. Courthouses.” He shrugs. “She’d think this pool was child’s play.” I fight my smile.Bastard.“And my backyard has plenty of privacy.” It’s fenced, he’s right. “And—” His hands slide back up my thighs, higher this time. “Naked swimming is only fun if there’s company.”
I bite my lip and can’t find a reason to say no. Truthfully, I want to say yes. I want to get in this pool with him. Because I can. Because I’m here. Because I’ve spent the last eight years not doing anything like this.
Before I know it, my shirt is off, and I’m diving—naked—into Nash’s pool, laughing as I do. I’m barely above water when he grabs hold of me, tangling us together in a bobbed drift. He kisses me, soft.
The perfection of the moment gives me courage. “I have something for you,” I say, tracing the black lines on the six of the thirteen stars inked on his shoulder that are above water.
“A repeat of last night?” he asks. “Because I really like that move where you?—”
