19. Kinsley
19
KINSLEY
T he insistent dial tone on the other end of my phone is driving me insane to the point where I’m ready to throw the device across the living room, along with the glass of wine in my other hand.
Why the hell is Nash not answering his phone?
I drag my swollen bottom lip between my teeth, remembering the feel of his soft lips and the bite of the metal ring pierced into his skin as they moved effortlessly against mine only two hours ago. They were dominant, yet sensual and tender. A contrast I wouldn’t have expected to correlate with Nash Beck. The way he held my cheek in his large hand and pressed his hard body against mine still makes my head dizzy with lust even after he pulled away and left in a hurry.
I shouldn’t feel this way after he kissed me, especially because our relationship is fake. What we’re doing isn’t meant to mean anything, and yet, that kiss felt so fucking real that I’m struggling to understand how and why it happened.
Throwing my head back against the couch, I close my eyes and groan in frustration. What the hell is wrong with me? Nash left my house so fast as if a fire had been lit under his ass and he couldn’t get out of there sooner. So why am I sitting here in the darkness of my house, save for a light on in the kitchen, calling this man repeatedly in the hopes he’ll answer?
And then what? If he answers the phone, what do I plan to say to him?
“Hi, you kissed me earlier and then left in a hurry with zero explanation, and I want to know what happened. Why did you leave like that?”
Yeah, right. I doubt that would go down well with him.
“God, I’m pathetic,” I murmur to myself and sip on the wine in my hand.
I need to get a grip. Now. If I continue to call Nash searching for an answer as to what happened earlier, it could make matters worse and neither of us should have to deal with that. The best course of action is to forget it ever happened and move on.
Although… I can’t help but feel as though something is wrong .
I don’t know how to explain it, but my gut is screaming at me that something is going on with Nash and he shouldn’t be alone. He got out of jail this afternoon after getting into a fight last night, so it’s clear he’s going through something but hasn’t confided in anyone about whatever it is that’s troubling him.
He needs someone but doesn’t want to ask for help or comfort.
Gazing down at my phone, I sigh. As much as I want to leave Nash to his own devices, I know what it’s like to hurt and have to hide that pain from the people around you. I know how much it sucks to feel like you’re consistently on the verge of drowning with your head barely above water, gasping for a breath, but no one around sees you struggling because you feel as though you have to hide. To put a mask on and pretend that everything is all right when it’s not. And I know what it feels like to believe you’re totally alone and isolated.
Whatever Nash is dealing with, I know it’ll be better for him to have someone around to offer support and be there to comfort him through whatever is happening than to be alone. Being alone tricks your brain into making stupid decisions as a form of self-comfort. I know the dangers of that bad habit, so I don’t want Nash to have to suffer through the consequences of those decisions alone.
“Fuck it.” Tipping my head back, I chug the remainder of the wine and place the glass on the coffee table. With a huff, I stand and race to the front door, having already made my decision.
If I don’t leave now to check on Nash and be the one person to offer him support and comfort, then I’m never going to go.
He may only be my fake boyfriend, but he’s a human being who needs help and I’m willing to offer him that branch of support if he’ll take it.
When the car rolls to a stop out the front of Nash’s mansion, the rain that began to fall lightly as I left the house is now coming down in buckets. Peering through the rain-covered window, I notice there isn’t a single light on inside the house apart from one room upstairs. I can only assume it’s his bedroom, which means he’s home.
Before I can stop to think through my actions, I swing the car door open and make a run for the front porch. By the time I race down the driveway and up to the front door, my clothes are soaked through. A cold chill races down my spine as I lift my hand to knock on the door, whether it be from the cool wind in the air or something else.
Silence. That’s all I hear.
I try again.
And again, I’m met with silence.
I try the doorknob and to my surprise, it twists open with ease. Nash should learn to lock his front door. I’m an example that anyone could just walk right up and enter his home without so much as lifting a finger.
The door creaks open slowly, almost as if I were in a horror movie about to walk into a trap. Another cold chill races down my spine as I look around the dark foyer. It’s so quiet I could hear a pin drop if it were to fall from anywhere in the house.
“Nash?” I call out, my words echoing off the walls.
Silence. Followed by more silence.
My eyes dart to the second-floor landing where there is a soft glow on the walls in the hallway that leads to Nash’s bedroom.
Well, here goes nothing.
With each step I take up the staircase, my stomach twists uncomfortably as a sick feeling washes over me. That same feeling follows me as I reach the landing and peer down the long hallway. The soft glow is spilling from beneath Nash’s closed bedroom door.
“Nash?” I try again as I slowly walk down the hallway, not wanting to startle him if he’s sleeping or busy doing something else.
Nash having a woman in his room crosses my mind for a split second, but it’s way too quiet. If that were the case and he had invited someone over, I would hear voices or moans. But I hear nothing aside from the heavy rainfall pelting against the roof.
My heart picks up speed when I reach his bedroom door, the sick feeling only intensifying. I turn the doorknob before I lose my confidence and step into the room. “Nash, are you ok?—”
My eyes widen to saucers when I take in the scene before me. Nash is slumped over the edge of the bed with his left hand touching the carpet, while his other arm is tucked by his side as he lay on his stomach. His hair covers his eyes, but I know they’re closed because he would’ve turned to look at me when I entered if they weren’t. My knees tremble when I take a cautious step forward and scan his half-naked body. Black sweatpants cover his lower half, leaving his torso exposed to the crisp air.
What the hell is happening?
When Nash doesn’t move an inch, my eyes dart to the nightstand beside the large bed and an audible gasp escapes my lips. I rush toward the stand, eyeing the clear plastic bag with a white substance inside. The same white powder is formed into seven neat rows along the surface with stray cigarettes and a bottle of Jack behind them. Residue coats the top of the nightstand, indicating that more lines had once been there.
“What the fuck,” I murmur, frantically looking at Nash. My heart feels like it’s going to burst through my chest as realization dawns on me. “Oh, shit.”
Kneeling in front of Nash, I use all the strength in my body to push at his shoulders and roll him onto his back. His skin is cold from the lack of warmth in the house and it sends an icy sensation across my body. Lowering my ear to his face, soft puffs of air fan against my cheek, but they’re faint.
This isn’t normal if he’s simply asleep.
As panic courses through my body, I realize that my gut feeling from earlier was right.
There is something seriously wrong with Nash .
“Nash, you need to wake up,” I plead, shoving at his shoulders. His body is stiff as he lay on his back, his eyes closed and his breathing labored.
The Grim Reaper on his forearm stares back at me, its gaze intense. The flames around it lick at my sides. My blood runs cold as I wonder whether its intimidating nature is foreshadowing what’s to come.
My head spins as I run a hand down the side of my face, confused and worried beyond words.
What the hell should I do?
Calling an ambulance would be the logical choice because they can get him the help he needs. Judging by the amount of drugs and alcohol on the nightstand, Nash had an agenda in mind when he returned earlier after leaving my house. I just hope he’s drunk and not overdosing.
The thought that he could’ve done this because of what happened between us makes me feel queasy and lightheaded.
“Nash, please .” The quiver in my voice triggers the panic building in my chest, forcing me to blink away the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “Come on, you have to wake up.”
At that moment, Nash’s closed eyes start to flutter and his body no longer feels rigid. But he doesn’t wake up.
Shit .
Scanning the room frantically for a sign of what the I should do, I spot the door to the adjoining bathroom and a lightbulb goes off in my head. Memories from when I was drunk back in high school with Sadie and Matt come rushing back to me. I remember Sadie would put me in the shower as a way to ‘sober me up’ after a night out so I didn’t feel sick, and oddly enough, it worked every time.
Getting to my feet, I muster up whatever strength I have in my body and wrap my arms around Nash’s torso. With a loud grunt, I manage to get him into a seated position. Goddamn, how much does this man weigh? It feels like I’m trying to lift a car with my bare hands, not a human being.
I don’t know how, but I hoist Nash onto unsteady feet with my right arm holding his frame upright. Every muscle in my body burns as I drag him across the room and into the bathroom with great difficulty. I grit my teeth together as I flip the light switch on and walk over to the large white tiled shower in the far corner of the room. Luck is on my side when I spot the built-in bench.
“Come on,” I grunt as I drag Nash into the shower and settle him down on the tiled bench.
With a huff, I spin on my heels and turn the shower on. Hot water slams against my skin, warming me up instantly. After being tucked against Nash’s cold body, I welcome the searing heat from the water. I don’t even care I’m still fully clothed. I can worry about that once I know if Nash is okay or not.
Nash still has his eyes closed when I sit on the bench beside him. His large frame slumps to the side and his head falls into my lap. The water from the shower head sprays his torso, leaving his face untouched.
Peering down at him, I rest one hand on his bare shoulder and caress his cheek with the other. “Nash, you have to wake up. I need to know you’re okay. Please.”
He stirs slightly and my eyes widen in surprise. My heart slams against my chest as Nash groans quietly. As his eyes begin to flutter open, my hand finds his hair, pushing the wet strands away from his forehead.
Nash lifts his hand to his forehead and groans deeply, his brows creased in a frown. “God, my fucking head is killing me.”
For some odd reason, hearing his voice causes my throat to close up and I choke back a sob of relief. I want to punch him for making me worry like that, but I also want to kiss him for the sheer fact he’s alive and well.
I don’t do either of those.
Mismatched eyes find mine and all I can do is stare back at them as I run my hand through his wet curls, the strands gliding between my fingers effortlessly. As we sit in silence staring at each other, I see the pain and hurt simmering in the depths of his eyes.
In this moment, he’s not Nash Beck, the lead singer of Dark Angel who has a history of being a bad boy. No. He’s just Nash, a normal man struggling with his trauma and just barely getting by. I had been wondering who the real Nash Beck is, and now he’s staring back at me, laid bare and unfiltered.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
Nash swallows hard and blinks rapidly before palming at his eyes with his hands. “What’s going on, Kin? Why are we in the shower fully clothed?”
“Because I tried calling you multiple times and you wouldn’t answer,” I explain, trying to keep my voice even. “I came by to check on you and found you… passed out on the bed. I didn’t know if you were just drunk or—” I swallow hard, unable to say the words.
“Overdosing,” Nash finishes for me hoarsely, his eyes finding mine once again. He licks his chapped lips and shakes his head. “I’m okay, little devil. I promise. Just had a little bit too much to drink and passed out. I wasn’t trying to kill myself if that’s what you were worried about.”
I was worried , I want to tell him, but I don’t. “You can’t continue to do this to yourself, Nash. It’s not healthy or safe. What if one day you just never woke up and someone who loves you found you dead in the same position I found you? What then?”
Nash pushes himself into a seated position, the water from the shower still spraying over his torso and lower half as he runs a hand down his face. “That’s not going to happen.”
“You say that now, but if you keep going down the road you are, it might become a reality one day,” I counter, growing frustrated with his lack of care for the people in his life and how his actions affect them too. “Whatever you’re struggling with… you don’t have to deal with it alone.”
He turns his head slightly to look at me, his eyes slightly bloodshot. “Why are you really here, Kin?”
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I’m left opening and closing my mouth like a goddamn fish desperate for some water as I try to form a sentence. Nash raises a questioning brow at me, his eyes shining with an all too familiar heat.
“I, um… wanted to make sure you were okay and ask why you left so suddenly after I bailed your ass out of jail this afternoon.”
A look of surprise passes through his eyes before they widen ever so slightly. “That’s why you came all the way here?”
I nod. “You can’t just kiss me and leave without an explanation, Nash. That’s not how it works.”
Nash rolls his eyes and leans back against the tiled wall. “As stubborn as ever, little devil. Can’t you just leave this alone?”
I turn my body to face his, desperately ignoring the way the water from the showerhead flows down the crevices of his hard torso, dipping below the fabric of his sweatpants, or the way his haunting eyes meet mine from behind the wet curls falling over his eyes.
Focus, Kinsley .
“No, I won’t. I deserve an explanation, Nash. What the hell is going on with you? First, you get yourself thrown into jail, and then you kiss me in my kitchen and leave without saying a word. It’s confusing, to say the least.”
Nash chuckles dryly. “You’re confused, little devil? I’m beyond fucking confused because I shouldn’t want to kiss you, but I do. You drive me fucking insane and push every one of my buttons, but it only makes me want you more. And that is what’s fucking confusing.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the roots roughly. “I left because I couldn’t fucking breathe around you and it felt like I was going to explode. So, I came home to do the one thing that helps ease my mind and whatever else I’m feeling.”
My heart stills in my chest as I blink slowly. He… wants me ? Surely I misheard him or he’s confused because of the alcohol and drugs coursing through his system. There is just no way.
When I don’t say anything, Nash shakes his head and stands from the bench, showing me his broad, toned back. The angel wings inked into his skin is slick with water. “Forget it. You can go now.”
His dismissal of the situation ignites a fire in my stomach, forcing me to my feet behind him. “Stop doing that.”
Nash turns to face me. Water slips from the soaked curls falling in front of his eyes, and landing on my cheek as he gazes down at me. “Doing what?”
“Stop running away,” I clarify, tilting my head. “That’s all you ever do, Nash. You just run away from your problems and act like they don’t exist, but they do .”
“Yeah, well, sometimes running is easier,” he utters. “It leaves less room for me to get hurt.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and try to steady my breathing, but it’s hard when my heart is beating rapidly against my rib cage. “Nash… I’m not going to hurt you.”
Nash’s jaw ticks as he stares down at me, unmoving. I see the battle he’s fighting behind those mismatched eyes, and it’s taking a lot of self-restraint to not ask what he’s thinking about. I know how to push his buttons, but I also know when I need to leave him be and allow him to express himself on his own.
In the blink of an eye, Nash’s right hand cups my cheek, and the other wraps around the back of my neck. A gasp leaves my throat when our foreheads touch, his lips barely brushing mine. His usual woodsy scent consumes my senses, and I can’t help but inhale deeply.
“What the fuck are you doing to me, Kin?” he breathes, his voice so low I almost don’t hear him. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing whenever I’m with you.”
I exhale a shaky breath and close my eyes. “I’m not doing anything, Nash. Maybe when you’re with me, you can finally be your true self and that’s what scares you the most.”
Opening my eyes, I find he’s already looking at me. A fire burns deep in his irises, sending a bolt of electricity straight to my core. The way he’s looking at me… Shit, it’s a lot to handle. Nash is an intense man, but this look on him is next level.
I’m painfully aware of how close we’re standing and the fact that the shower is still running and we’re fully clothed, soaked to our core. But I don’t care. If he were to touch me more than he already is, I’m sure I would combust.
We shouldn’t even be doing this, I know, but for whatever reason I can’t force my feet to take a step back or signal my arms to push his hard body away from me.
I can’t seem to do anything but stand here and wait for Nash to make the next move. The ball is in his court.
“Shit,” he breathes, his jaw clenching as his eyes search my face. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad that it hurts.”
I swallow hard and try to find my voice. “Then do it.” The words are quiet and have a slight tremor to them, but they are meaningful all the same.
I have never wanted Nash Beck to kiss me as badly as I do right now.
Nash searches my face for any sign of hesitation, and when he doesn’t find it, he closes the small gap between us and presses his lips against mine. The contact makes my head dizzy and I have to grip Nash’s shoulders for support. I’m afraid if I let go of him, I will fall to my knees. And I just know he would enjoy that too much.
His lips move against mine feverishly as his hand gets tangled in my hair, holding me firmly against him. I barely register the moan that explodes from deep within my chest when his tongue meets mine, hot and wild in my mouth.
Nash uses his large mass to walk us back to the bench. When the back of his legs hit the edge, he lowers himself ever so slowly, refusing to break the kiss.
Without hesitation, I straddle his lap. My eyes nearly bulge out of my head when I feel his hard length pressing against my ass through the thick material of my jeans.
Jesus Christ, what does he have in there? I’m almost too afraid to find out.
Nash’s hands snake down my waist and over my hips to rest on my ass. He uses his large hands to press me firmly against his crotch, and my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head.
Holy. Fuck.
My lungs feel like they’re on fire and my skin is feverish. I’m struggling to think straight as Nash devours my mouth like a man sitting on death row eating his last meal. Being in a steaming hot shower is only making me feel hotter, like my head could explode at any moment. It’s too much, and yet, I can’t stop either.
Nash’s skin is slick with water and sweat as my fingers drag down his chest. My fingertips skate over the waistband of his sweatpants, causing Nash to groan at the soft touch.
His lips part from mine long enough for him to utter, “Holy fuck, little devil.”
In response, I grind my ass against his crotch and smile when his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. I continue to tease him by running my fingers across the waistband, relishing in the way his mismatched eyes are lit with a fire that could match the surface of the sun. And it’s all for me.
You’re such a good girl, Kinnie .
My body shudders at the whisper deep in my mind. Black ink seeps into my skin, stilling my hands. The tension in my shoulders makes my head pound painfully to the point my vision blurs. I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to silence the voices.
I love your touch, Kinnie. So sweet and gentle.
No, no, no .
I’m not letting this happen. Not again. I’ve worked too hard and come so far to allow what happened to me in the past to win. I can’t let the past win. Never again.
“Kinsley.”
My eyes snap open at the sound of Nash’s deep voice. He’s regarding me with curious eyes, likely wondering what is going on with me. His chest is heaving with each deep breath and his hands are still placed firmly on my ass, reminding me of the position we’re currently in.
“Are you okay?” His voice is quiet and filled with worry, something I’m not used to hearing from his lips. A shaky breath falls from my slightly parted lips when his hand comes up to cup my face. The act is so tender all I can do is stare down at him. “If you want to stop we?—”
“No,” I interject quickly, my throat so dry the words are barely above a whisper. I inhale a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “I’m okay, I promise. I was just…”
I can’t explain the memories trying to force their way out and make their presence known without going into detail about my past.
One of the things Nash and I have in common is we both have secrets from our past we want to keep to ourselves, and this is one of them.
Sensing my reservation, Nash drags his lip ring between his teeth and moves his hand to my waist, guiding me off his lap.
Disappointment unexpectedly washes over me at his dismissal and loss of contact. Of course I fucked this up and ruined the mood because I couldn’t keep the memories under control.
Story of my goddamn life .
“Nash, I’m sorry?—”
“Take your pants off, little devil.”