18. Kinsley
18
KINSLEY
I don’t know why I’m so nervous walking into the LAPD building. Maybe it’s because of the men in uniform watching me with intense eyes—a reminder that when I needed the law the most, no one was there to help me. Or maybe it’s because I can’t stop thinking about Nash and if he’s okay.
What if this gets out to the media and our publicity stunt no longer works the way it has been? From an outside perspective, people might start to think Nash hasn’t changed, even after dating me. It could lead to questions we don’t have answers to or unwanted theories about us. The last thing we need is people questioning our relationship and blowing our cover.
My throat works to swallow the little saliva pooling in my mouth, but my airways are constricted as I approach the woman at the front desk with kind chocolate eyes and wrinkles by the corners of her mouth. She’s an older woman with graying hair cut into a bob at her shoulders, and a smile so bright someone from the moon could see it.
“Well, hi there, sugar,” she greets, her southern accent so thick I almost don’t understand her. “What can I do for you?”
I clear my throat and twist the beaded bracelet on my wrist. This feels like the ultimate test for our fake relationship. As much as I want to give Nash a piece of my mind for getting into another fight when he needs to be working on not having his public image be trash, I know I need to play the caring girlfriend who is worried for her boyfriend’s welfare.
I’ve played many roles in my career, but never one this difficult.
“I got a call earlier from Officer Walker regarding my boyfriend, Nash Beck. He asked me to swing by and bail him out.”
The woman nods along with my words as her eyes scan a clipboard in front of her. “Ah, yes. Nash Beck. He’s in holding cell two. I’ll have one of the officers collect him while I talk you through the bail-out process.”
As the kind woman with the thick accent talks me through the process and has me pay a fee to release Nash—three hundred dollars, to be exact—I smile through gritted teeth, trying my damn hardest not to crack. When I see Nash, I’m going to give him a?—
“Miss May.”
My head snaps up at the sound of Officer Walker’s deep voice behind me. I lower the pen onto the form I just finished signing and turn around.
It’s nice to put a face to the officer standing behind me. He’s older than I had thought from hearing him speak during our brief conversation on the phone. Maybe mid to late forties with a goatee and blonde hair cut close to the scalp. He’s a good-looking man, but pales in comparison to the Devil standing beside him.
Nash’s eyes are aflame with an emotion I can’t quite decipher when his mismatched eyes find mine. An intense shiver races down my spine as my core explodes with molten lava. Purple bags line the skin beneath his eyes, highlighting how exhausted he must be.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if he’s okay, but the words die the moment his tired eyes blink slowly.
Nash repositions the leather jacket slung over his shoulder; his tattooed arm flexes with the movement. The dried blood stains on the white tank top clinging to his torso matches the dried blood coated on his busted knuckles.
Is the blood his or from the man he beat up?
My instincts are telling me to run. Run as far away from this troubled man as I can because he could burn me at any moment. But the thing is… I don’t want to run away. I’m like a moth drawn to the flame, unable to look away or retreat. I just know that the closer I get to Nash, the more chance I have of going up in fucking flames.
And for some reason… the thought doesn’t scare me as much as it should.
“Miss May,” Officer Walker repeats, his eyes catching mine. “Make sure Mr. Beck stays out of trouble, okay? I don’t want to see him back here again.”
I swallow what feels like tar in my throat and nod, unable to form a sentence.
Goddamn.
He turns to Nash, who is a few inches taller than him, and pats him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, okay? You’ve been up all night.”
Nash murmurs something under his breath and steps away from Officer Walker. He doesn’t wait for me as he walks toward the exit, his grip on the jacket over his shoulder tightening.
My eyes find Officer Walker’s and I force a smile onto my lips, still dazed from what just happened. “Thank you for calling me.”
“It was no problem at all,” he responds with a shrug and shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. “Nash is a good man, but he’s troubled. He’s been in and out of this building more times than I can count, so I’m hoping a good woman like you will be able to help him turn his life around before he can no longer be saved.”
My forehead creases with a frown, and my mouth opens, ready to question him, but he’s called away by another officer. He waves goodbye before rushing off, leaving me alone in the foyer.
So much has happened in the past five minutes that my mind is struggling to catch up. Between being in the belly of the law and doing my goddamn best to not think about the last time I was here—begging for help that never arrived—and seeing Nash with busted knuckles, the last thing I needed to hear was Officer Walker telling me my fake boyfriend is close to drowning in the demons nipping at his heels.
I exhale a sharp breath and bite my bottom lip, the skin chapped. This whole fake dating thing is becoming a lot more complicated than I had anticipated.
Turning back to the receptionist, I thank her for her time and slide across the form. As she tells me to have a good day, concern plagues her kind eyes and I do my best not to dwell on it as I leave the building and head to my car.
Nash leans against the hood of my car with his arms folded over his chest. The stance makes the muscles in his biceps bulge to a size that has my mouth watering and my core tingling. His curly hair is a mess over his eyes, which isn’t unusual for him, but it looks like he has been running his hands through it a lot because the curls aren’t as defined as usual.
I want to ask how he knows my car, but remember that he likely saw it in the driveway last night when he stopped by to pick me up and drop me home after dinner. The night we spent together at Matt’s restaurant feels like a distant memory given all that’s happened since.
Nash’s eyes are on me as I walk to the driver’s side door, unlock the vehicle, and slip in without a word. In the ten seconds I’m alone in the car before Nash gets in beside me, I take a deep breath and steady my racing heart and jumbled thoughts. I have to remain in control of the situation if I’m going to be able to handle Nash, especially after the night he’s had. Instead of charging at him like a goddamn bull, I need to approach the topic with caution so as not to make him feel like he’s being attacked.
“Thank you for coming to get me.” Nash’s words are hoarse and deep as he speaks. He’s fiddling with the thick silver ring on his forefinger as he stares straight ahead.
I switch the car on, the engine roaring to life. “You didn’t leave me with much of a choice.” Realizing how harsh my words sounded to my ears, I sigh. “Are you okay, Nash?”
He simply nods and closes his eyes. I’m sure he’s exhausted after spending the night in a jail cell. Officer Walker said he didn’t sleep a wink, so I’m sure he’s itching to get some shut-eye. I need to get him somewhere safe where he can be alone. With a life like his, I’m sure he doesn’t get much alone time.
“Let me take you to my house where it’s quiet and that… friend of yours isn’t lurking around.” Without looking at Nash, I pull the car out of the parking lot and onto the street. My palms are sweaty as they grip the leather wheel and I can’t help but steal a glance at him slouched in the seat beside me, his right leg bouncing as he stares ahead.
As we drive in silence, I feel anger and frustration rolling off him in waves that threaten to drown me. I’m struggling to breathe as I focus on the road and not the fact that I’m slowly being consumed by Nash’s woodsy cologne and all-encompassing presence.
It isn’t until I see my house come into view that I release the breath I had been holding and notice my knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel.
The car rolls to a stop in the driveway and I don’t wait for Nash before I get out. The afternoon air fills my lungs and I close my eyes, steeling myself for what could happen as soon as I’m alone with Nash in my house. The conversation could go one of two ways. One, he loses his fucking mind and shuts me out, or two, he opens up and lets me into whatever the hell is going on inside of that pretty head of his.
I know Nash has followed me into the house because I hear the car door slam shut and moments later the sound of his combat boots squeaking against the wooden floor sounds throughout the foyer.
As soon as I step foot into the kitchen, I head straight for the bottle of wine stashed in my cupboard. I told myself I would only open it on days when I needed a little kick or had a rough day, and I think today fits the bill on that front.
Nash walks into the kitchen as I’m pouring us both a glass. His mismatched eyes flick between me and the two glasses of white wine on the counter.
“I don’t have anything stronger,” I say as I slide one of the glasses toward the three bar stools opposite me. When he continues to stare at me, I raise a pointed brow at him. “If you don’t drink it, I will.”
That seems to do the trick.
Nash slides onto one of the stools and brings the wine glass to his lips. My eyes widen as I watch this man chug the entire glass in three mouthfuls. He hisses a breath of satisfaction as he places the glass down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.“I’ll take another one if you’re offering.”
I roll my eyes and pour him another glass. “I’m sure drinking is what got you into this mess. For God’s sake, Nash, you need to stop getting yourself thrown into jail. It’s not a good look for our relationship.”
“ Fake relationship,” Nash emphasizes over the rim of the glass as he takes a sip. “Besides, it wasn’t my fault this time.”
I bite back a snort as I fold my arms over my chest. “Oh, I would love to hear this story. Let me guess, someone provoked you, once again, and you had to defend yourself like every other time?”
Nash rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he leans back on the stool, his two-toned eyes darkening as they regard me from across the island. “I know you hate to be wrong, little devil, but you’re way off in your analysis.”
“Enlighten me then,” I retort. I’m not in the mood to play games with him, especially not after I just bailed his ass out of jail not even thirty minutes ago. “Please tell me, oh-mighty Nash Beck, how you getting thrown in jail was not your fault. You love to blame everyone else for your wrongdoings, so tell me how this time is any different.”
“You’re so fucking infuriating,” Nash says through gritted teeth, his hand tightening around the stem of the wine glass.
“And so are you,” I snap. I had every intention of approaching this conversation with caution, but now I don’t give a fuck about treating Nash like he’s a fragile vase that could break at any second. “You never want to take accountability for anything you do and it’s getting on my fucking nerves. I bailed your ass out today, so the least you can do is give me the truth as to why you were in there again.”
And that was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Nash launches off the stool and rounds the island in the blink of an eye. My feet instinctually retreat until I’m backed against the counter behind me and Nash’s body presses against mine, digging my lower back into the edge unforgivingly. His hands slam down on the counter beside me, his silver rings scraping against the white countertop as his thick arms cage me in. Nash’s chest heaves as he peers down at me. The same fire in his eyes I witnessed earlier at the station has returned, nearly knocking the breath from my lungs.
“Nash, what are you?—”
“It was because of you , little devil.”
His words make my eyes widen in surprise. Did he just say what I think he said?
I swallow thickly. “W-what do you mean?”
Nash’s face is now inches from mine, his breath fanning against my chapped lips as his eyes bore into mine, holding me hostage. Not that I could move anyway with his six-foot-four mass keeping me trapped against the counter.
“I went in search of someone’s ass to beat because I couldn’t get your fucking face and sweet voice out of my goddamn head,” he hisses. His grip on the counter tightens. “Why did you have to fucking kiss me like that, little devil. Why ? It messed with my fucking head.”
I’m reminded of Nash’s near panic attack last night in the car and how he struggled to breathe—his eyes filled with a pain I have only seen in mine when looking in the mirror every morning. I thought I had done the right thing by returning the favor after he helped stop my panic attack before walking the red carpet at the award show.
Why would it affect him so much that he sought someone to lay his hands on?
“I was only trying to help,” I respond meekly. When staring down the nose of a predator, I know I shouldn’t provoke it. That would be stupid. Instead, I use the calmest voice I can muster despite the tremor in my words. “You were having a panic attack, so I wanted to—I didn’t mean to upset you, Nash.”
“You didn’t upset me,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, skimming over the metal pierced into his skin. “I was fucking angry. Angry at you for kissing me. And angry at myself for enjoying it as much as I did.”
He enjoyed the kiss too? I thought I had imagined the tension between us in the car and how my body reacted to him. Knowing I wasn’t alone in that moment has my body tingling with a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.
No man before Nash has ever made me feel as alive as he does. What is it about him that has me gravitating toward him? Why can’t I seem to stay away? Instead, I find myself inching closer toward him.
With Nash peering down at me, his breath fanning across my lips, I feel… safe. I know it’s odd given the circumstances, but I can’t explain it any other way.
“Nash…” I breathe, my throat tight and my mind fuzzy. “Please…” I don’t know what I’m asking for, but I just need him to do something before my fucking head explodes or my body melts to a puddle at his feet.
Nash swallows hard as he stares down at me, his fingers drumming on the counter beside me. A battle rages behind his eyes as if he’s deciding whether or not he should take the next step.
Before I can utter another word, his right hand slides around the back of my neck, and I’m tugged forward until our lips collide. My brain explodes with bursts of color and shapes, and I all but melt against the counter as Nash’s tongue slips past my lips and expertly moves against mine.
I’m unable to move as he presses his hard chest against mine while continuing to hold my head hostage. Instinctually, my hands rise to tangle in his messy curls as faint cigarette smoke and whiskey coat my tongue. The strands are silkier than I thought.
A moan slips past my lips as Nash caresses my neck, his mouth catching the sound as his tongue continues to explore my mouth. My skin is on fire from where his fingers dig into my neck to hold me still and my core is tingling to the point I know my goddamn panties are soaked.
Nash presses his body harder into mine, and this time I feel something hard digging into my abdomen. It only makes my head spin faster and my need to touch him stronger. At this moment, I feel like I can’t get enough of the man devouring my mouth like we’re the only two people left on the planet.
Your lips are so soft, Kinnie. They feel nice against mine.
The voice is faint, but I hear it in the back of my mind. I screw my eyes tighter, forcing the voice from my mind by focusing on Nash’s woodsy cologne and how warm his body feels against mine.
I can’t let the demons win, not when I haven’t felt this way in a man's presence in far too long.
Nash releases my lips and I gasp at the loss of contact. My eyes snap open to see him staring back at me, his chest heaving, desperate for air. The tingling in my lips tells me they’re swollen, but I don’t care. Not right now, at least.
“Nash…”
It’s like something snaps him out of the trance he’s in because he releases his hold on the back of my neck and steps back, putting distance between us. My hands slip from his chest, and I wring them together to suppress the tremor in them.
Nash shakes his head and presses into his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I… uh… I need to go, Kinsley. I can’t do this.”
My brows crease into a frown as I try to catch my own breath. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay here?—”
Nash takes another step back and shakes his head, his mismatched eyes filled with an emotion I can’t quite read. “I need to be alone.”
And with that, he turns on his heels and rushes through the kitchen, down the hallway, and out the front door like he’s running from a fire chasing him down. Except he started that fire, and now he’s left me to burn in it with no explanation as to why.
What the fuck just happened?