Page 52 of Driven to Love

“Maybe we should turn in.”

She glanced over her shoulder but kept her arms coiled around her core. “What’s the plan?”

“You can have Davey’s bed.”

Her expression softened. A spark lit her green gaze. “Any other options?”

Nash bit his inner cheek to keep a straight face. “The couch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to make me ask?”

“Ask what?”

She swatted his arm. “If I have to ask, never mind.” She pushed at his arms but didn’t step free when he released his hold.

“Hmm. Addison Benedict begging. That’s something I’d like to see.”

“I didn’t say anything about begging. I don’t beg. Ever.” Her steely glare was met with his playful smirk.

“We’ll see about that. Come on.” He threaded his fingers with hers and pulled her up the stairs. At the top, he gave her one more chance to change her mind.

Addison glanced into Davey’s room, then strolled across the hall and into Nash’s bedroom like she owned the place.

Damn it, if he didn’t like that. He leaned against the doorframe and watched as she surveyed his room.

She paused at the photographs on his dresser. With a light touch, she ran a fingertip over one of his Army buddies on a tank before moving to peek into his en-suite bathroom.

With her tour of his room complete, she dropped to the edge of the bed, bounced once, then cocked her head. “First, I want to thank you for your service.”

“I haven’t serviced you… yet.” At her scowling expression, he softened. “Thank you.”

“Secondly, are you going to come over here or not?” She patted the bed.

Addison was a woman who was used to getting what, or who, she wanted. Everyone knew it. Nash stayed planted in place. Waiting, he tamped down his desire to sprint across the room and divest her of her clothes. Instead, he smiled—the one that made women throw themselves at him.

True to her word, Addison didn’t budge. Instead, she raised a brow. Her look screamed, “game on.”

A kernel of excitement sprouted in Nash’s belly. Challenge accepted. He toed off a shoe, then the other, without moving from his position against the doorframe.

She dipped her chin and glanced at him through those long lashes.

Fuck. One look and he was ready to race to her. No, hold steady. If years of military training taught him anything, it was control. Patience. He clamped down on the need swirling in his gut.

She leaned back. With one finger, she slid the strap from her shoulder. The fabric clung to that toned bicep and gaped just enough to give Nash a peek at the outer curve of her breast.

Saliva pooled in his mouth.

Nash pulled off his socks, crossed his arms over his chest, and flexed his arm muscles. The competitive monster in his belly smiled when her eyes darkened. Her move.

The other strap slipped down. The edge of her lacy bra peeked out.

“So, it’s like that?” Nash fisted the back of his shirt and whipped it off in one smooth move. He heard her intake of breath a second before the article of clothing hit the floor.

Yes! He was getting to her. But before he could really revel in his small victory, she pulled her tank over her head and threw it at him.

He caught the scrap of fabric as it hit his face. Sweet Mother of Pearl. That woman was blessed with a glorious rack. He hadn’t even seen it bare yet, and he was tenting his shorts.

Steady, Steele. He unbuckled his belt, and with one fluid motion, pulled it from the loops.