Chapter 22
GEORGIE
Iwoke up and smiled.
Sprawled in Nash’s bed, I stretched sinuously, like a very pleased cat. It felt good to wake up and feel… Not so weighted down by dread and sorrow.
Sitting up, I noticed a fresh orchid on the bedside table, and smiled. This one had tiny flowers, white with a purple center, and was so pretty. I loved every orchid he gave me.
Two days had passed since our dinner at Elysium. Nash had been strict about me resting and healing.
I’d barely done anything, to the point that I felt lazy.
He’d had food delivered every day. Last night, he’d cooked steaks on his small grill on the back patio.
Other than that, I hadn’t seen much of him during the last two days.
His security work at the Avernus was keeping him busy, and he said he had some contract work to do at the Bellagio and the Aurora, too.
I hadn’t wanted to get in his way, not when he was already doing so much for me.
He assured me that he and the others were also busy gathering intel on Dean Snyder in the meantime. He could see the wait to deal with the man was itching at me.
“The best missions are the ones where you have the most intel. The more information you have, the greater your chance of success. You’ve got to have patience, Georgie.”
I rose and quickly headed for the bathroom to freshen up.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and my favorite red T-shirt with a V-neck.
I pulled my hair into a ponytail and studied my face.
My bruises were so much better. The ugly yellow was fading, and I only had a small patch of dark bruising under my eye.
All of it was easily covered by makeup now. My toes curled.
I was counting down the minutes until Nash touched me again.
He hadn’t since that hot moment in the store room, with his mouth between my legs. I shivered, tingles running over my skin.
It had been the best orgasm of my life.
I wanted him. I wanted to explore that hard body of his. I breathed in a sharp breath. But I couldn’t let myself get too attached. I had to tread very carefully.
In the living area, I saw a note propped on the kitchen island.
There’s a protein shake in the fridge. Drink it.
I rolled my eyes. Even his writing sounded bossy.
I’m in the greenhouse.
He was here. My heart did a little dance in my chest. I pulled out the protein drink and poured it into a glass.
I tasted berries and banana and mango. As I drank it, I wandered the living room.
Nash had loads of books. The shelves were filled with varying genres—from non-fiction to thrillers.
I’d spent some time reading a new crime thriller the last few days.
I ran my fingers over the spines. I found the photo frame I’d discovered yesterday, tucked away at the end of the shelf.
Elliot and Nash, both in their Navy uniforms, smiling at the camera.
So young. They’d thought themselves invincible, that they had their entire lives ahead of them.
I gently touched my brother’s face. It was the only photo Nash had. I set the frame down and turned.
I’d also learned Nash loved action movies—something we shared. We’d watched the latest Jason Statham movie last night.
I’d found it hilarious that the actor was playing a retired assassin. Nash had grumpily picked it apart while I’d giggled.
I thought all I wanted, or that I could feel, was my need for vengeance. To avenge Viv’s death.
But Nash had changed that. He was taking care of me, in more ways than one.
He was willing to kill for me.
He was making me want things I shouldn’t.
I needed to see him. I drank the last of the protein shake and rinsed the glass in the sink. Then, barefoot, I went to find him.
It was another cool, wintery Las Vegas day. The air was fresh and the sun hid behind clouds. I followed the path to the greenhouse and moved quickly across the cool concrete. I opened the glass door and got hit by humidity and rich scents.
I pushed through the greenery and saw him. I jerked to a stop, my heart kicking against my ribs.
He was wearing jeans and no shirt. It was my favorite look on him. He was leaning over a plant, the muscles in his back flexing, and denim cupping his muscular ass.
God. I thought I’d understood desire. I’d had sex in the past, and thought it had been good sex.
Clearly, I had no clue. The depth of the heat that Nash made me feel was all-consuming.
His head whipped around, and he smiled. “Morning.”
I cleared my throat. “Hey. How are your orchids?”
“Doing well.”
“Do you sing to them?” I teased, wandering closer.
“No,” he answered gruffly.
I really wanted to touch him, but instead, clasped my hands together.
“How do you feel today?” he asked.
“Good.” I waved at my face. “Look, you can barely see the bruises.”
“Ribs?” He reached for me, his hands spanning my rib cage. At his touch, I swallowed a moan.
“They feel fine.”
“Good, because you have training today.”
“Training?” I blinked. “At the range?” We’d been to the shooting range every day and I was pretty darn proud of how much my shooting had improved.
“Not today. Today, we’ll be doing hand-to-hand. I want to show you some basic skills, so you don’t get cornered. And so you can take down a bigger opponent.”
That sounded good. “Okay.”
He squeezed me, then let me go.
When I shifted on my feet, his eyebrow arched. “Something else?”
Life was too short. Everything that had happened had taught me that. “I want to touch you.”
There was a flash in his blue eyes. “You’re not ready yet.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m healed.”
He stared at me, and I realized his body was so tense. I blinked. Oh God. I stared at the taut muscles in his neck, at the way his abs were clenched. He was holding himself back.
And it wasn’t easy for him.
I felt flush with power. I pressed my hands to his chest and felt his muscles flex.
“You like when I touch you,” I murmured.
He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah.” His voice was low and gritty.
This man—one I’d dreamed and fantasized about for so long—wanted me. He’d stood up for me when no one else had.
I spread my fingers over his bronze skin and kneaded. Explored. One finger circled his nipple and I watched it tighten.
His chest hitched and I felt a flood of damp between my legs. When I looked down, I could see the bulge of his cock behind the denim.
I stepped closer and pressed a kiss to his pec. My hand drifted lower, my fingers running over the ridges of his abs.
“Georgie…”
“Mmm.” I licked his skin. God, he smelled good. Male, a woody undertone with a citrus-fresh scent on top.
I bit him and he groaned.
God, I’d wanted him when I was a young woman, but I couldn’t comprehend the depth of my desire now. Body shaking a little, I let my hands move lower to the button of his jeans. The denim was stretched over a now-impressive erection.
“No.” He caught my wrist.
My stomach fell. “Nash—”
“Not yet, sweetheart. But soon.”
A small, needy sound escaped me. He gripped my jaw and forced me to meet his gaze. “You wet?”
Everything inside me clenched. “Yes.”
“Your panties soaked for me?”
I touched my tongue to my lip. “I’m not wearing any.”
Something inside him snapped. He whipped me around and I gasped. My back was pressed to his front, his hard cock rubbing against my ass.
“I’ll take care of you. Suddenly, I’m starving.” His hands moved, opening my jeans and he shoved them down my legs. Then, he spun and pushed me down to my knees, bending me over the bench I’d sat on the other day.
“Nash.” Excitement filled me.
He knelt behind me, his callused hands squeezing my ass. Then I felt his hot breath between my legs. I squirmed.
Then his mouth was on me.
My cries filled the greenhouse. I arched my back, sensation rocketing through me.
He growled loudly. The sound vibrated through me, then his tongue darted out, licking, stabbing into me. His hands gripped my waist, holding me still for his hungry assault.
“Nash,” I cried. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
He found my clit and sucked hard.
With a scream, I splintered apart. I was tossed into my climax and pleasure swamped me. I rode the wave until I went lax. My body slumped against the workbench and I fought for air.
“You just get more beautiful.” Nash pressed a damp kiss to my buttock.
I felt like a limp dishrag. Pleasure was still singing through me.
“A girl could get used to this,” I said breathlessly.
“Good.” He sounded very satisfied.
I looked back over my shoulder. God, he was gorgeous. My gaze dropped to the straining erection in his jeans. “Can I touch you? I want—”
He stroked a hand down my back. “No. That was for you, sweetheart.”
I huffed out a frustrated breath. “When?”
He leaned forward, grinding against me. “Soon.” Then he landed a light smack to my cheek. “No time for you to laze around naked. It’s time to get dressed, with panties this time. You have training today.”