AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was hard to keep his mouth from dropping open. “Three? And you think you’re going to be able to finish a marathon in a little over a month?”
Her chin came up. “I’m very good at completing goals.”
She would have to be better than good. She’d have to be one dedicated athlete. But he refrained from pointing that out. “Why don’t you grab some plates? This is ready.”
The dinner wasn’t one of his best, but Eden seemed to enjoy it. She ate like she talked. With enthusiasm and no inhibitions. While most girls took dainty bites when eating in front of guys, Eden spooled the long pasta onto her fork before placing the big bite in her mouth, sucking up any loose noodles with a pucker that made Nash fidget on his barstool.
“This is amazing,” she said. “I never would’ve guess that you knew how to cook.”
“It was either that or eat my brothers’ cooking.” He looked away from the dab of marinara on her upper lip and tried to concentrate on the conversation. “And both Deacon and Grayson suck at cooking. Deacon doesn’t have the patience, and Grayson is easily distracted.”
They ate in silence for a few moments before she spoke. “So I guess it was hard after your mother died.”
He wasn’t surprised that she knew about his mother. The tabloids had loved the three motherless boys angle. But he was surprised by the pain that the mere mention of his mother still evoked. “I survived.” He got up and carried his plate into the kitchen. He was rinsing it off when she came up behind him.
“Is that why you’re so unhappy, Nash?”
When he turned around, she was standing too close. So close that his body immediately reacted. His heart rate increased. His palms tingled. And his cock hardened. In an effort to hide his physical reaction to her nearness, he spoke callously. “If we’re going to talk about happy, let’s talk about you. Are you really happy selling your body for money?”
She looked away as if thinking of a reply, and when she finally looked back, she sounded like she was reciting a passage she had memorized for school. “I don’t consider it selling my body. I look at it like my contribution to a Lonely Hearts Club.”
He snorted. “Then you’re fooling yourself. You do realize that I’m the exception to the rule. Most of the guys who hire escorts are married.”
“Doesn’t the escort service screen them?”
It was hard to believe that Eden could be that naïve, but it appeared that she was. “The only thing they wanted from me was ten grand to join their exclusive club,” he said. “Once they got that, they didn’t care who I was or what I want to do to their girls as long as they get their percentage. Which brings up another point. If you didn’t take my money, how did they get their cut?” A thought struck him. “Is that why someone threatened you?”
“Probably.” She picked up the minced garlic jar and walked to the refrigerator. She opened the door and placed the jar on a shelf. “Although almost choking me to death seems like more than a threat.”
He didn’t even wait for her to finish closing the door of the refrigerator before he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. His gaze went to the scarf around her neck, and he hesitated only a second before he untied it. Beneath, purple bruises marred her pale skin, and anger like he hadn’t released in a long time bubbled to the surface.
“Fuckin’ sonofabitch.” He slammed his fist on the refrigerator door.
“Pretty much,” Eden said. “A scary sonofabitch.”
“Who is he?” Nash was surprised he could get the words out from between his clenched teeth.
“I don’t know. He wore a ski mask. At first, I thought it was you.”
His gaze traveled to the bruises and then back to her. “You thought I could do something like this?”
“You told me you were screwed up. I thought it was possible that you enjoyed hurting women.”
Her words struck him like a solid jab to the solar plexus, and it was a struggle to breathe let alone speak. “No, I don’t enjoy hurting women, Eden.” He paused. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t.”
Eden placed her hand on his bare forearm. It was the first time she’d ever touched him voluntarily, and her warm fingers around his wrist felt like hot brands. He flinched, but she refused to release him. “And have women hurt you, Nash? Or maybe just one woman? Is that why you have trouble having an… orgasm?”
“I don’t have trouble having orgasms.” Just the touch of her fingertips on his arm had him rock hard and ready. “I have trouble with control.”
“Control? What do you mean? You’re the most controlled man I’ve ever met.”
“Because I work at it.”
“Why? Why is it so important to retain control?”
He didn’t have to stay and answer. Her hold wasn’t that tight on his arm. But for some reason, maybe because he wanted to finally put all his screwed-up thoughts into words, he told her the truth. “Because I’m not like other men, Eden. Sex is more than just a physical release. It’s an all-consuming need. And until I learn to control it, I could end up hurting someone… again.”
Eden’s fingers caressed his arm in a back-and-forth sweep, and when she spoke, it was barely a whisper. “But you touched me, Nash.” Her gaze locked with his. “And you didn’t hurt me. In fact, I want you to touch me again.”
