Chapter 9 #2
Nash moves in, pressing me against the kitchen counter. His mouth claims mine, urgent and consuming, and I lose myself in the sensation of him. Our hands are everywhere at once, frantic and exploring.
His lips are soft, insistent, and I can’t get enough.
He pulls me closer, slides his hands to the back of my thighs, and I gasp as he lifts me effortlessly, sitting me on the edge of the counter. He parts my legs, stepping between them, and the heat of his body makes me shiver.
His hands roam, skimming the sides of my body, tugging at the hem of my borrowed shirt until he finds skin.
I clutch his shirt, his shoulders, his hair, anything to keep him near.
Nash quickly undoes the button on my pants and slips his hand inside, teasing me over the top of my underwear.
I breathe his name. A plea. A demand.
It only spurs him on, his mouth relentless on mine, his fingers moving with torturous precision. I arch against him, every nerve on fire and begging.
I feel wild and untethered, the heat of his hand sending sparks through me until I can hardly take it anymore.
“Touch me,” I whisper, my voice heavy with need.
He pulls back, eyes dark with desire, and grins.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric, a touch that unravels me.
I let out a sound, helpless and wanting, as his fingers find my wetness.
He slides two fingers inside me, thumb circling my clit. There’s nothing hesitant or tentative about the way he touches me. He knows exactly what I need, exactly how to unravel me from the inside out.
He licks up my neck before kissing me again, his mouth hot against mine as I struggle to catch my breath.
I pull away, panting. “Fuck.”
My head falls back as he curls his fingers inside me at just the right angle, his thumb still relentless and teasing. I gasp, and Nash grins against my neck, as if he’s proud to watch me come undone for him.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice raw and insistent. “Come for me.”
And I do.
Unraveling beneath him, the room blurs, the edges of everything fading until the only thing I feel is him. My moans fill the room as my body shakes, his name escaping my lips in a breathless cry I can’t contain.
I gasp and melt, and just as the haze begins to clear, the pizza oven dings.
The absurdity breaks the last of my restraint, and I dissolve into laughter, my forehead resting against his chest. He pulls his hand from my jeans, watching me catch my breath as he licks his fingers clean.
“Dinner’s ready,” he says with a wink, then gives me a quick kiss before helping me down from the counter.
I button my jeans back up, adjusting the borrowed shirt. My heart is still racing, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.
I glance at Nash, who looks as satisfied as I feel.
“Let’s eat,” he says, pulling the pizzas from the oven and placing them on two plates. He grabs the plates and I follow him to the couch, sitting close enough that our legs touch.
The rest of the night is easy. Everything with Nash feels easy. We spiral into conversation, our voices bouncing off the brick walls and hardwood, our feet tangled on the coffee table in front of us.
Nash tells me about his obsession with the “Berenstain Bears Conspiracy”. He’s convinced there’s a timeline where it’s spelled differently.
“Don’t tell me you also think the earth is flat,” I say through laughter.
The smile falls from his face.
“You should know I’m not that unhinged, doll,” he says, his grin creeping back into place. And I feel the corners of my own mouth pull up, my chest warming at Nash calling me that name again.
I tell him about my first day of law school, being the first student called to stand and present the facts of a case from our torts book.
“Wait. How would you know all of that on the first day?” Nash asks.
I chuckle. “In law school, you’re given assigned reading and expected to have it done before class so the case law can be reviewed during class. The first day of school is no exception.”
“So when you get called on, you have to stand up and tell everyone else about the case?”
“Everything about it. The facts, the law that was applied, how the law applies to the facts of the case, and then the court’s holding based on that analysis.”
“Sounds brutal,” he replies.
“Oh, it is,” I confirm. “It’s called the Socratic Method. And it’s even worse when you don’t know the case. But I had done my homework, and I knew the facts and the law well.”
“Of course you did,” he says, almost with an air of pride in his voice.
His confidence in me brings a slight blush to my cheeks as I continue to recount my first cold call.
“But my professor didn’t like the way I explained the holding of the case.
She started calling on every other student in the class until she found one that explained it the way she wanted it.
It was a little embarrassing, but that’s not the worst part. ”
“Oh?” he says, raising his eyebrows. It’s endearing how intently he listens to me, locked in to every word I’m saying.
“Nope. After class, I went to the bathroom, and when I looked in the mirror, I realized my mascara had smeared all around my eyes. I was completely mortified. I mean, I stood in front of my entire class looking like a raccoon,” I say, throwing my hands up.
Nash bursts into laughter.
With Nash, there’s no pretense. He’s all impulse and honesty, and it’s weirdly disarming not to have to guard myself or fill the silence with anything but what’s real.
My walls lower just enough that I forget to check myself before I say what I mean, before I laugh too hard, before I tell stories I never planned to share.
Time blurs, and every hour is both too long and far too short.
When I finally check the clock, it’s nearly midnight, and I realize I should get back to Salem before this turns into me spending the night.
He walks me to my car, the air cool against my skin after the heat of everything we’ve done tonight. His hand finds mine, fingers lacing, and I lean in, giving him a soft, lingering kiss.
“This was fun,” I say honestly.
He pulls back, a satisfied grin on his face. “I knew it would be,” he says, his eyes catching mine with an intensity that makes me want to stay.
I get into my car, watching him out the window as I pull away, a giddy warmth spreading through me. But beneath it, a familiar unease, a reminder that no matter how much I want this to be simple, I know it’s not.