Relief flooded through me. I could handle Griffen knowing about Tyler's texts. It was mostly the thought of actually telling them that had me procrastinating. "Good idea," I murmured, "One sec." I focused on screen-shotting the texts and sending them to Angie with a note asking her to forward her info on Tyler to my brother.
As I worked, Nash asked, "Just one question. How often is he texting you like this?"
I didn't miss the thread of tension in his gentle words. He was pretending to be calm, but it was an act. I appreciated it anyway. I wasn't quite as relaxed as I appeared, either. We both had reason to be on edge, but I wasn't going to let Tyler ruin this like he'd ruined so many other things.
"Here and there," I murmured, in a non answer to his question. He'd see everything later when I showed him my text thread with Angie.
I sent the text and set my phone on the table, face down, ringer silenced. Giving Nash my brightest smile, I said, "One of these days, when you have time, I'll walk you through the cottage and show you what I've been doing in person."
"I'd love that." Nash returned my smile and topped off my champagne. I noticed his own glass remained half full. I trusted him on the bike, but it was nice to know he wasn't planning to drink half a bottle of champagne and try to navigate our way through the mountains back to Sawyers Bend.
"Now," I said, changing the subject, "I want to hear how things are going in your venture with Sawyer Enterprises. At least, whatever you can tell me. I know it's top secret."
I didn't know much about programming or AI, but I knew enough to keep up as Nash filled me in on their progress. He and Royal were heading out the next day to look at the building Griffen had in mind for their new offices.
Our food arrived, and we ate, still talking, moving from Nash's business to his impressions of Sawyers Bend and my family, to our latest streaming obsessions. It was hard to believe that Nash and I hadn't talked much in the six years since we'd met. Once we started, we never ran out of things to say.
Just like that night in New York, we talked and talked, absorbed in each other. I could have stayed all night, not fully noticing as the air cooled and the sun dipped in the sky. Nash took care of the check–a good thing since I hadn't even grabbed my purse–and we got on the bike for the ride back to Heartstone Manor.
Again, it was like flying, the shadows deeper, the sun setting over the mountains drenching them in vibrant color. Orange, lavender, and streaks of red flashed by as we sped home, the heat of Nash's body against mine and the rumble of the engine lulling me into a state of relaxed bliss.
When we pulled into the courtyard, I got off the bike and took Nash's hand, leading him into the house, through the mudroom and up the back stairs. At the top, he came to a halt, glancing at the guest wing to our left. I shook my head and tugged at Nash's hand, pulling him across the center hall to the family wing.
Behind the thick door of my bedroom, I turned the lock and faced Nash. "I've been imagining having you here. In my room. With me." My fingers made quick work of the small buttons on my blouse, opening it enough to strip over my head.
Nash went for his own shirt buttons. "And what did we do in your imagination? Exactly?" Done with his shirt, his hands were at my waist, unzipping my capris and pushing them over my hips, taking my panties along with them. "I want you to be very specific."
"Mmm." I thought about that. How specific was I prepared to be? Tyler had never been chatty in bed. This kind of thing wasn't in my wheelhouse. But I was willing to try. I certainly had plenty of day dreams about Nash to work from.
"It depends," I said, unsnapping my bra and dropping it on the floor. I unfastened his belt. "Sometimes it starts here, with me stripping you, and admiring you naked for a while."
I pushed his pants to the floor, along with his boxers, leaving him bared to my greedy eyes. He was delicious, every inch of him. His muscles, the light dusting of hair on his chest. The wicked gleam in his dark eyes. And that long, thick cock between his legs. All of him was beautiful.
"Sometimes I do this." I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his cock, squeezing hard, moving closer to cup his balls with my other hand. He shivered under my touch and I leaned in, pressing my lips to his collarbone, tasting the salt and heat of him.
"And sometimes," I said, dropping to my knees, "I daydream about doing this." My lips closed over the end of his cock, his crown warm and velvet soft, filling my mouth as I sucked him in deeper. His fingers slipped into my hair, cradling my head, his thumb stroking the line of my jaw.
I had to touch, to get my hands all over him. Sinking my fingers into his tight ass, I drew him deeper, as deep as I could take, and sucked hard, dragging a groan from Nash, his fingers convulsively closing and releasing in my hair.
Stepping back in a jerk, he pulled me to my feet and swung me into his arms. I slung an arm around his shoulders and held on. "Was this on your to-do list?" he rumbled in my ear.
"Absolutely." I was laughing when he dropped me on my bed, the laugh turning to a giggle as I tilted and fell to the side, my eyes glued to Nash's long, hard body sliding onto the coverlet beside me.
My chest still shaking from giggles, I pounced. With Nash, just like the first time, I wasn't worried about doing the right thing, or being embarrassed. I was too hungry for him. I wanted him too much, leaving no room for restraint or second guesses.
I had about three seconds on top of Nash, working my way down until my mouth was even with his. He let me press one short kiss to his lips before he rolled us over, pinning me, his lips at the so sensitive juncture of my neck and shoulder.
I shivered in his arms, all coiled tension and desperate need. My giggles vanished. His mouth worked at my neck, his long fingers moved between my legs, finding the soft heat of me with unerring precision. My thighs fell apart in welcome, my hips surging up to meet him. Fingers sank into Nash's thick hair, holding him at my breast, his teeth nipping, lips soothing, sucking, sending bolts of fire to my heated core.
He was lazy, slow, lingering over my nipples, tasting my ribs, dipping his tongue into my belly button until I squirmed beneath him, every nerve overloaded until I couldn't tell pleasure from pain. "Nash, please," I begged, not even sure what exactly I was begging for. All of it. His mouth, his cock, my orgasm. I was begging for everything he could give me, and more. He slid back up to kiss me, my mouth drawing from his, desperate.
Hitching my leg over his hip, I opened my body to him, reaching between us. Nash nuzzled my ear. "Is this what you want?" He nudged the head of his cock against my wet heat. My hips rolled, drawing him closer in answer.
He pushed in just enough for me to feel the stretch, the sparking pleasure of him inside me. But not nearly far enough. "This? Because I was going to do other things first."
"Yeah?" I asked, breathless as he pushed another inch deeper. "Like what? Because this is pretty nice."
"Just nice? That's the best you have?"
