I swallow hard. “I’m sorry to call so late.”
“It’s not a problem. I was still up. Besides, I told you to call if you needed anything.”
I stare at him, at the face that seems so familiar to me now. It feels odd for it to be attached to Nash’s personality, though. To not feel the intense heat of Cash emanating from behind those sparkling midnight eyes.
He raises his eyebrows in question when I don’t speak. “So, what’s up?”
I might never know what came over me. One second I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing. The next I’m blurting out embarrassing-isms.
“Nash, do you want me?”
If I weren’t so shocked at what just came out of my mouth, I’d probably think his expression was comical. As it is, I’m dying a little on the inside.
“What?”
I scoot closer to him, laying my hand on his arm for emphasis. “Do you want me?”
“I think we’ve already established the answer to that. What’s this about, Olivia?”
I’m floundering. I’ll admit it. And my go-to plan was never even a forethought, much less a plan. So, I wing it. Which, in this case, translates to practically assaulting Nash.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to his. I don’t know who is the more shocked of us, Nash or me. At first, his lips are frozen beneath mine. If possible, I think my humiliation rises. But then, he jerks back like he’s been burned.
Nash grabs me by the upper arms, his fingers digging into the tender flesh, and he looks me square in the eye. For a few seconds, I could swear I see hurt and anger. However, that makes no sense. But then, when I blink, it’s gone, making me wonder if I’d imagined it altogether.
His lips curve into a cruel twist. “So this is how it is.” he says enigmatically. I try to pull out of his grasp; his fingers are really starting to hurt. But he won’t let go. Pulling me into his lap, he roughly cups my face. “Is this what you want?”
Before I can answer, his lips are crushing mine. They’re not gentle. They’re not passionate. They’re not even sexual. They’re punishing and angry and…cold.
I’m cringing away from him when his tongue forces its way past my lips. His mouth is mashed so tightly to mine, for a second I think I taste blood. Then the flavor is mingled with something salty. It’s then I realize I’m crying.
Nash pulls away from me, opening his mouth as if to curse me, but he stops in shock. I guess he sees that I’m crying and the Nash I thought I knew takes over.
His face softens and, tenderly, he raises one hand and wipes the tears from my left cheek. I feel my chin tremble. I will it to stay still, but the damn thing completely ignores me.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispers, scattering tiny butterfly kisses all over my lips and cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have done that. I know you’re with Marissa. I don’t know what came over me.”
Nash leans back and looks at me. “Am I what you want?”
I don’t know what to say to that. Should I admit that I do? Am I even sure that I still feel that way?
Cash drifts through my mind.
As if sensing the direction my thoughts have taken, Nash asks, “What about my brother? I thought… I mean, I know he spent the weekend in Salt Springs.”
I’d forgotten that Cash had to get directions from Nash. If possible, I’m even more humiliated. No doubt he thinks I’m a huge whore now.
Before I can respond, Nash continues. “Or was I there, too?” He brushes his lips over mine. “Did you think of my lips when he kissed you?” Light as a feather, he runs his hand down the outside of my thigh and back up again, squeezing my hip. “Did you wish it was me touching you? Like I did the night I came to your room?”
I gasp in shock.
Ohmigod! It was Nash!
I start to lean back and speak, but his lips take mine, quickly coaxing them apart. Sensation drowns out thought as I feel him breathe into my mouth. “Do you still want me? Because if you do, I’m all yours.” With that, he deepens the kiss, his tongue licking along mine, his free hand roaming across my waist and stomach. Chills spread over me. His touch is so much like Cash’s.
Cash…
I push against Nash’s chest. He moves back easily, giving me no resistance.
He looks down into my eyes. Neither of us says a word.
He nods and his lips curve into a smile of acceptance rather than humor.
“Good night, Olivia.”
He doesn’t move right away. He just watches me.
Eventually, I nod and slide off his lap, coming to my feet. I walk him to the door and he pulls it open. He turns as if to say something else, but changes his mind. I watch as he disappears into the darkness, not once looking back at me.