15
Kennedy
I woke up the following morning nestled comfortably in front of Nash.
His warm, solid body was pressed against my back, and his arm was draped protectively over me.
I could hear his slow, steady breathing, feel the rhythmic beat of his heart against my spine, and feel his morning wood poking at my ass.
Being this close to him sent my emotions into a whirlwind.
He made me feel safe and cherished. We could laugh and have fun together, and he turned me on without even trying.
Just thinking about him stirred a warmth inside me, which was surprising considering how many times we’d had sex the night before.
I should’ve been exhausted, but instead, I felt an insatiable energy.
I had never experienced anything like this before.
I turned to face him, sliding one hand down to cup the heavy weight of his balls while my other wrapped around his thick morning erection. He stiffened instantly, waking under my touch.
“This is my favorite way to wake up,” he murmured, his voice gravelly with sleep.
“Good to know,” I whispered with a small smile.
“Come here, you.”
Nash’s eyes remained closed, but his touch was deliberate as he reached for me. My hands continued to explore him, unable to get enough.
“I want you again,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks flush.
His eyes opened, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Can’t get enough of me?”
“No,” I confessed truthfully.
“Good,” he murmured, “because I can’t get enough of you either.”
His big hands slid to my hips, pulling me flush against him until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us.
“Is it okay for you to do this?” I asked, hesitating when his brow lifted in question. “I mean . . . it’s game day. Don’t you need to rest? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
I started to pull back, but Nash responded by gently pressing his hips against mine.
He chuckled softly. “How fragile do you think I am?”
“Not at all,” I said quickly, fully aware of his strength and stamina.
Before I could say more, his mouth claimed mine.
After another incredible lovemaking, and a joint shower, we ended up in the kitchen, where Nash made scrambled eggs. I sat at the island with a steaming mug of coffee, watching him move around shirtless in nothing but joggers.
“I could get used to this,” I said with a smile. “You cooking for me.”
He laughed and winked at me. “I did promise you eggs.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“That’s really all I can make, Ken, but I could definitely get used to having you here cooking me dinner.”
“Just that?” I teased.
He let out a playful growl, mischief sparking in his green eyes. “You already know I like having you in my bed. I think we proved that last night, didn’t we?”
My cheeks warmed. I loved the playful flirting between us, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit embarrassed.
“You’re cute when you blush,” he teased.
“Seriously, Nash? You’re just making it worse,” I protested.
His grin widened as he leaned on the counter. “Ah, and now it’s getting even worse.”
“Nash,” I groaned.
I let my hair fall forward to hide my flushed face. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed about what we’d done, but talking about it in broad daylight made me turn red.
“Don’t hide from me, babe. I love it when you blush around me,” he said softly.
“I don’t know why,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze.
He chuckled as he scooped scrambled eggs onto two plates, placing one in front of me.
“I love having you here, Kennedy. Not just for the amazing sex, though that’s definitely a bonus,” he said with a playful wink.
“Me too,” I admitted quietly.
I leaned into his chest, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of his soap. Everything about him made me feel safe and content. At that moment, life felt pretty perfect.
“Stay with me tonight too,” he suggested, his voice low and hopeful.
“I have to go to work tomorrow,” I reminded him.
“So? You can leave from here,” he said with a light laugh. “Bring your work clothes tonight. Hell, bring a bunch of stuff and leave it here. I want you here with me.”
My arms loosened around his waist as I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. His eyes were steady, but behind the easy smile was something deeper—something vulnerable—that made my heart skip a beat.
“Nash . . . are you sure this is what you want?” I asked carefully. “This is moving really fast.”
“I know,” he said softly, “but I love being with you.”
I smiled, feeling my cheeks flush once again. “I love that too, but I’m not sure we should rush into this.”
“Kennedy . . .” He sighed, his arms slipping from around me. The absence of his touch left me feeling strangely exposed. I took a slow sip of coffee, waiting for him to continue, but he remained silent.
“You haven’t exactly been the relationship type, Nash . . . and that scares me,” I admitted finally.
He ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair, his eyes reflecting a hint of sadness when he looked back at me. “I know . . . but that’s only because they weren’t you.”
As happy as that made me, I pushed it aside and pressed on. “I don’t want whatever this is to end, Nash. You make me incredibly happy, but I’m afraid you’ll get bored of me and move on.”
Because that was what he’d always done before. No girl had lasted more than a few weeks with Nash Reed.
“Ken, I don’t want this to end either. The best part has just begun,” he said with a teasing smile, leaning in to brush his lips over mine.
I kissed him back, and while I appreciated his playful behavior, I needed him to be serious. If this was going to work, we had to be honest with each other.
“I don’t want to be another weekend fling,” I confessed softly.
His eyes widened, and I could see the hurt my words had caused before he covered it. “Never, Ken. That’s not what this is,” he said, his voice low and sure.
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. I wanted so badly to believe him, but his track record told a different story. Then again, we’d always been good friends, and none of the other girls had ever shared that with him.
“Then what is this?” I asked, averting my gaze as heat crept up my neck. “Is this more for you, Nash?”
“Yes,” he answered without a second of hesitation.
“I want to believe that. I just think we might be rushing. I don’t know—”
“Kennedy,” he interrupted with a sigh, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it. “We’ve known each other almost our entire lives, and we’ve been best friends for most of that time. How can you say we’re rushing into this?”
“Well . . .” I swallowed hard, my brain scrambling to remember why I’d been arguing in the first place. It was hard to think with him standing there, his bare chest right in front of me, his eyes soft and certain, that easy smile curving his lips.
What had I been saying again?
“But,” I stammered, “we’ve only been sleeping together for a couple of days.”
“Yeah,” he said, throwing his arms out in a so-what gesture, “and do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
My eyes widened as I stared at him in disbelief. My mind went blank, my body frozen, as the seconds stretched out.
“Ken,” Nash prompted gently. “Please say something.” He reached for my hand, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles over the back of it. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just telling you the truth.”
“You mean . . . you wanted to be with me before?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“Yes.” His smile softened, his eyes warm and certain. “For a long time.”
“For . . . sex?” I asked hesitantly.
He chuckled. “That too.”
“Why?”
“Because I liked you, Kennedy.”
My breath caught. He liked me?
His hands went back to his hair, tugging at the strands, and for a few moments, he looked more like the young boy I used to know than the grown man he’d become.
My brain struggled to wrap itself around his words, around the idea that Nash—my Nash, the boy I’d secretly loved for most of my life—had felt anything even remotely close to what I had.
All those years I’d spent convincing myself I wasn’t his type.
That he saw me as a sister, or a buddy, or just the girl next door who tagged along.
That nothing I felt mattered, because it was one-sided.
And now . . . this.
Warmth spread through my chest, slow and disbelieving, chased immediately by a wave of panic.
Because if he’d liked me then, and I’d been too afraid to see it—what if I messed this up now?
What if stepping over that line meant losing him for good? But then, hadn’t we already kind of done that?
My heart thudded painfully. Everything I had ever wanted was suddenly right in front of me.
And I had no idea what to do with it.
“Kennedy, please talk to me,” he begged.
I sighed, running my hands over my face.
“I spent years thinking I was just your friend. Not someone you’d ever want in that way.
” A humorless laugh slipped out. “You were always with other girls. Do you have any idea how hard it was to stand on the sidelines for years and watch as a long line of girls paraded through your life?”
My voice thickened, and I blinked back the tears threatening to spill over.
“I watched, Nash. I saw you kiss those girls, touch them. Let them touch you. And then . . . sometimes, you took them home.” I looked up at the ceiling, trying to force back the traitorous tears.
“To do things I didn’t even want to think about you doing with someone else. ”
Nash’s expression softened, but his body remained tense as if he were holding himself back. “Ken, I never wanted to hurt you. I . . . I didn’t know you felt that way. If I’d known—”
“But you didn’t!” I interrupted. “And I didn’t know you felt anything for me either. So I spent years wondering what was wrong with me. What I didn’t have”—I swallowed hard, finishing in a near whisper—“that the other girls did.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step toward me. But when he reached out, I lifted my hand to stop him.
If he touched me, I wouldn’t get the rest out. And I needed to.
“Do you think it was fun listening to girls gush about the incredible times they had with you?”