Page 114

His expression goes still.

There it is. The truth sitting between us, soft and dangerous.

Then he kisses me again, and I let him take the shirt off.

His gaze drops.

The air changes.

I’m lying in only my bra and leggings. Nash looks at me like he’s been given a kingdom.

I reach behind myself with my good hand, fumble with the clasp of my bra, and hiss when my shoulder pulls.

Nash catches my wrist gently.

“Let me.”

I don’t argue.

He takes his time with the clasp, one-handed, maddeningly competent. The bra loosens, and he eases it away, his gaze locked on mine until I want to shake him.

“You can look,” I tell him.

His mouth tilts. “I am looking.”

“At my face.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I like watching you realize you’re safe with me.”

My heart trips over itself.

“That was way too romantic,” I mutter.

“Want me to say something filthy instead?”

“Yes, actually.”

His gaze finally drops to my breasts.

His expression goes hot enough to burn the room down.

“I want my mouth on every inch of you,” he says. “I want to find every sound you try not to make and earn it anyway. I want you so wet and desperate for me that you forget every reason you ever thought this was a bad idea.”

My entire body clenches.

“Oh,” I say.

He smiles like he knows exactly what he just did. “Better?”

“Moderately.”

“Liar.”

Then his mouth closes over my nipple, and I stop having opinions.