Chapter 5
Nash
T he amber liquid swirled in Nash's glass. He brought it to his lips, the burn of whiskey a welcome distraction from the blonde bombshell working behind the bar.
Rosie. Even in the dim lighting of The Den, she shone like a beacon, drawing his eye no matter how hard he tried to look away.
Blake's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. "Another round, bro?"
Nash shook his head, setting his empty glass on the polished wood. "Nah, I'm good."
His brother shrugged and signaled Rosie for a refill.
As she sauntered over, Nash kept his gaze fixed on the hieroglyphic carvings that adorned The Den’s wood-paneled wall. Jax had found this hideout for them. An old Freemasons hideout, full of ancient symbols that held a hundred secrets. Just like the woman in front of him.
"You sure you don’t want anything, Nash?" Rosie asked, her voice a silken caress.
Blake chuckled and shot Nash a sly grin. "Don't tempt him, Rosie. He's playing hard to get these days."
Nash gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around his glass. Damn Blake and his big mouth. It wasn't like he wanted to push Rosie away. But she had someone now, and he refused to be that guy. The kind who swooped in and stole another man's girl. Even if every cell in his body screamed for her.
He could feel Rosie's eyes on him, burning through his defenses like a blowtorch through butter. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck, but he kept his expression neutral. Detached.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked anyone to the Christmas party yet, Nash," Blake continued, as if trying to further stoke the tension crackling between them. "A good-looking guy like you. I figured the ladies would be lining up."
Nash forced a laugh, the sound hollow in his ears. "Relationships aren’t for me, bro. You know that. I have a job to do."
Blake arched an eyebrow at him. “You saying I don’t do my job now I’ve got Savannah?”
“No, I’m not saying that. But we all have our own way of working. Me? I don’t want any distractions.”
"He’s saying he’s easily distracted," Rosie quipped. “Can’t focus on two things at once.”
Blake laughed. ”He’s saying he’d get lost in a woman and never find his way out.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Rosie replied, her voice husky.
Nash’s gaze snapped to hers, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. Her brown eyes smoldered with a heat that had nothing to do with the dimly lit bar and everything to do with the memories that haunted him late at night. Memories of her pressed up against him, his skin slick from the shower, his thick cock pressed hard against her smooth stomach.
“You know what? I will take another whiskey,” he said quickly. “Make it a double.”
Rosie nodded and poured him out a large one. “Here you go, boss.”
Boss . Off. Was it wrong that he liked it when she called him that?
"So, have you asked Max yet?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them, jagged and sharp. "To the party, I mean?”
Something flickered in Rosie's eyes, gone too fast for him to read. But he didn't miss the way her smile faltered, just for a second. "Not yet.”
With a quick grimace, she sashayed back to the other end of the bar, her hips swaying in a way that made his blood run hot and his fists clench beneath the table.
Blake let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn, bro. You've got it bad."
Nash scowled into his empty glass. He didn't need his brother to state the obvious. He was fucked, plain and simple. Rosie had him tied up in knots, and he couldn't seem to break free. No matter how hard he tried.
"Just drop it," he muttered, signaling for another drink. Maybe if he drowned himself in enough whiskey, he could forget the way she made him feel. Like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong move would send him tumbling into the abyss.
But even as he tossed back another shot, he knew it was a losing battle. Rosie was under his skin, in his blood. And no amount of alcohol could wash away the bitter taste of regret that coated his tongue.
Rosie's voice cut through the low hum of conversation, pulling Nash's attention back to the present. "I have a confession to make."
He glanced up, his brow furrowing as he took in her sheepish expression. She was twisting a dish towel between her hands, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.
"Oh?" He kept his tone casual, even as his heart kicked into overdrive. What could she possibly have to confess?
"About my date for the Christmas party." She took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. "Max is not actually my boyfriend. He's just . . . Max."
Nash blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. "Who the hell is Max?"
Rosie ducked her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "My stuffie."
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Nash stared at her, his mouth hanging open in shock. She'd lied to him? Let him believe she was seeing someone else, when all along it had been a fucking stuffed animal?
Anger and frustration warred with a sudden, overwhelming sense of relief. She wasn't taken. She was still single. Still available.
Still his .
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath and setting his nerves on fire. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the possessive growl that threatened to tear from his throat.
"That was a naughty thing to do, little girl." His voice was low and rough, laced with a dangerous edge that made her shiver. "Lying to me like that. If you were mine, I'd. . . ."
He trailed off, his mind conjuring up a dozen delicious punishments he could inflict on her sweet, tempting body. Spanking that pert little ass until it was red and throbbing. Tying her up and teasing her until she begged for mercy. Fucking her so hard and deep she forgot her own name.
Beside him, Blake let out a chuckle, snapping Nash back to reality.
He whipped his head around, glaring at his brother with narrowed eyes. "What's so damn funny?"
Blake leaned back in his chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he took a lazy swig of his beer. "Clearly, the two of you should go to the party together."
Nash's brows shot up, his heart stuttering in his chest. "What?"
"Go to the Christmas party together." Blake gestured between them with the bottle. "Neither of you have a date. And it's pretty obvious how you feel about each other."
Across the bar, Rosie made a small, strangled sound, her cheeks flushing a deep, rosy pink.
Nash's gaze snapped to her, drinking in the sight of her flustered and embarrassed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Fuck, she was beautiful. And tempting. So damn tempting.
But he couldn't give in. Couldn't cross that line.
"No way." He shook his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Never gonna happen."
Blake frowned, confusion etching his brow. "Why the hell not? You're both single, you're both into each other—"
"Drop it." Nash cut him off with a sharp look, his fingers tightening around his glass. "Rosie and I are not going to the party together. End of discussion."
He could feel her eyes on him, hurt and confusion radiating from her in waves. It killed him to do this, to push her away when every cell in his body was screaming at him to pull her close and never let go.
But he had to maintain professional boundaries. Had to keep his distance, for her safety and his own sanity. He'd made a promise to her two years ago. He intended to keep it, for the rest of his life.
No matter how much it killed him inside.
Because the alternative—letting himself give in to his desires, letting himself have her the way he desperately wanted to—was too dangerous to contemplate.
Rosie's voice broke through the tense silence, falsely bright and cheerful. "Well, my shift is over, so I'm just gonna head into the playroom." She paused, looking directly at Nash. “I really am sorry for lying about Max. Making out that he was my boyfriend. He is a very special teddy bear to me, though.”
Oh, shit. The moment she said that, a memory surfaced in Nash’s mind. The first night in that saferoom, he’d given her a teddy bear wearing an “I Heart Chicago” t-shirt. Promised her that he’d help her fall in love with the city again. To show her all that was good in it.
And she’d looked up at him with a big grin. “I’ll call him Max,” she’d said.
Fuck. He’d been an idiot.
She untied her apron with trembling fingers, avoiding Nash's gaze as she hung it on a hook behind the bar. "You boys have a good night."
Nash watched her go, his heart clenching painfully in his chest as she disappeared through the door at the back of the room. The playful, sassy Rosie he knew was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a woman who looked like she'd just had her heart ripped out and stomped on.
And it was all his fault.
Blake waited until the door had closed behind her before turning back to Nash, his expression serious. "You want to tell me what the hell that was all about?"
Nash sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it for me." Blake leaned forward, his elbows on the bar. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're head over heels for that girl, and she feels the same way about you. So what's the problem?"
"The problem is that I saved her life two years ago, and she thinks she owes me." Nash stared down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid around. "I don't want to be with someone who feels obligated to be with me out of gratitude."
Blake snorted. "That's bullshit and you know it. Rosie doesn't seem like the type to do anything she doesn't want to do, least of all date someone out of obligation."
Nash shook his head stubbornly. "You don't understand. The power dynamic is all wrong. I was her savior, her protector. I can't be her boyfriend too."
"Why not? Look at me and Savannah, or Jax and Mia. We all started out as protectors, but now we're partners. Equals." Blake's gaze was sympathetic but firm. "If you keep pushing Rosie away, you're going to lose her for good. Is that really what you want?"
Nash didn't answer, his mind whirling with conflicting emotions. He knew Blake was right, but the fear and guilt that had been his constant companions for so long wouldn't let him take that leap of faith.
Not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever.
Nash's jaw clenched. "It's different with Rosie and me. I crossed a line with her right after I saved her, when she was vulnerable. I acted inappropriately, and I still feel terrible about it."
Blake raised an eyebrow. "What, did you take advantage of her or something?"
"No, nothing like that. But I . . ." Nash hesitated, the memory searing his mind. "I kissed her. Right after I saved her, when emotions were running high. It didn’t help that I was naked at the time. And very . . . aroused.” He winced.
“I see,” said Blake. “And did she kiss you back?”
Nash’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
“Did she seem aroused too?”
Nash felt an unwelcome heat spread through his groin. “Yes. She did.” He cleared his throat. “But it was a mistake, a moment of weakness. She had been forced into unhealthy relationships with men the whole time she was at the casino. I don’t want to be another one of those men. And now, I have to maintain clear boundaries, so I don't do anything else wrong or let her down again." He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The thought of hurting her, of not being the man she needs me to be . . . it eats me alive, Blake."
Blake leaned back in his chair, studying Nash with a mix of understanding and exasperation. “Seems to me like it's eating you alive not doing anything about your feelings for her."
Nash scowled, hating the way his brother could see right through him. It was true—every day that he denied his attraction to Rosie, every time he pushed her away or pretended to be indifferent, it felt like a piece of his soul was withering away.
But what choice did he have? He couldn't risk losing control again, couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her or making her feel pressured. Rosie deserved better than that. Better than him.
"Look,” said Blake, leaning forward, “those men at the casino threatened her. They gave her no option but to be with them. As far as I understand, you weren’t waving a knife in the girl’s face. Just your damn hard-on, by the sounds of it. And she was into it.”
Nash shook his head. "She wasn’t thinking straight at that point. Anyway, I’m doing my best to make it up to her. I made a promise to her—and to myself," he said firmly, trying to convince himself as much as Blake. "I told her I'd never touch her again, and I intend to keep that promise. No matter how much it hurts."
Blake shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You're a stubborn bastard, you know that? But sooner or later, you're going to have to face the truth. You and Rosie belong together, and denying it is only going to make you both miserable."
Nash didn't reply, but deep down, he knew his brother was right. The question was, how long could he keep fighting his own heart before it destroyed him completely?