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20
Nash could watch Honey sleep all day long.
Seriously, the woman was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He watched her for several moments, marveling at the place they’d found themselves. There was something special about the trust a person had with someone, to fall asleep beside that someone, because when you were asleep, you were at your most vulnerable. And Honey had been all about hiding any kind of weakness. So this right here, it was huge.
She lay on her side facing the wall, and his eyes traced the curve of her delicate spine. All that long sexy hair waved around her shoulders, and in the early morning light, the tattoo looked like a magical vine etched into her skin.
One of her hands was curled onto the pillow next to her face, palm open, as she slowly inhaled and then exhaled. She was completely relaxed. Completely at home in his bed, and the feeling that punched him in the gut was one of possession, pride, and wonder. She was like a wild, untamed creature, and somehow, he’d managed to snag her interest and her heart.
I love you.
Powerful stuff. Words said often, but how many times were they said with unedited, raw feeling? How many times were they pulled from someone, even against their wishes, because the truth in those words couldn’t stay quiet? He was humbled to know Honey loved him. Humbled to know she’d chosen him to hold her heart, to take care of it and to nurture it.
There was still so much about her he didn’t know. But one thing was certain. Honey Harrison did not give her love freely or easily or thoughtlessly. She’d given him a gift, and he was gonna do his damnedest to protect it. To cherish it. To make her understand that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Nash Booker was an all-in kind of man. He gave one hundred and fifty percent when he wanted something. And two hundred percent to make it happen and keep it safe.
Last night had been incredible, and to see her here, spending the night in his bed for the first time, did crazy things to him. On one hand, he wanted to jump to his feet and pound his chest and tell every single man who looked her way, she was his. But that was a little too Neanderthal, and he didn’t think Honey would appreciate the knuckle-dragging.
Instead, he bent forward and kissed the back of her neck and trailed his hand down to the curve of her hip. He was hard, and he curved into her, his breaths falling quickly at the thought of being inside her again.
Nash kneaded her hips gently and kissed her neck, nibbling his way up to her ear, while eventually, his fingers found their way to that slick, hot center that begged for his touch. He slowly slid his cock up and down the small of her back, while circling her clit with his fingers.
Her hips began to move slowly, and she moaned in her sleep, her hand no longer soft and pliant or open. It was clenched into the pillow and her head rolled back, exposing more creamy skin. Such a rush of emotion ran through Nash, he made a guttural sound and pulled on her gently, positioning her ass so that he could enter from behind. She was wet and so ready that he didn’t hesitate.
Nash sank deep inside Honey and clenched his teeth as he tried for more control. His instinct, his need, was to fuck hard and fast and release the exquisite pressure he felt. But he took a moment and then slowly began to move inside her. Her breathing changed, but she was still asleep, and he smiled wickedly, nipping her shoulder. She clutched the pillow and matched his rhythm, their movements slow and erotic and so damn perfect, he knew it would never get better.
Nash knew the moment she woke. By then, his skin was slick with sweat, his muscles tight from the effort it took to hold back. To increase her pleasure and prolong what he knew was going to be amazing.
Honey’s eyes flew open, and she turned slightly. He saw the sweep of her lashes, the rosy flush to her cheeks, and her mouth open as wave after wave of pleasure ran through her.
“Nash,” she gasped. “If this is what it’s like waking up in your bed, I might have to spend every night here.” She moaned as he increased his tempo.
Nash bent forward. He bit her shoulder and then licked her earlobe as she shuddered and began to tighten around him. “That a promise?” he asked, voice thick with passion.
“Do you want it to be?” she asked as she cried out.
“You own me, Honey,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear. “All of me.”
He lifted her hips, and she screamed as he brought them home. She was so tight and hot and wet that when she convulsed and tightened even more, he lost it. Nash Booker roared his release as if he were a damn Neanderthal—he couldn’t lie. It felt fucking great.
They collapsed together, a tangle of slick limbs, cotton sheets, and hungry mouths. They kissed for a long time, tongues tasting and teasing.
Honey broke free and looked at him, her hands on his face, her eyes serious. “You own me too,” she whispered.
Nash replied with a deep kiss and pressed her back into his sheets. She moaned and kissed him back, and sank her hands into his hair, and then…froze.
“Shit,” she said, pushing him back. “Nash, stop.”
Alarmed, Nash looked down at her. How in hell had he managed to ruin this before they even got started?
“The fundraiser. I have to… I’m supposed to be there to help set up.”
Relief flooded him, and he took one of her nipples into his mouth, angling his head so he could watch her as his tongue flicked over the sensitive flesh. She hissed and bucked against him, laughing as he grabbed hold and turned to the other one.
“That’s not fair,” she gasped, legs already creeping upward to encircle his hips.
“Life’s not fair,” he said with a grin. “Andrea can wait.”
