26. Nash
NASH
I MISSED YOU TOO.
Christ, the way she says it—like it's been carved out of her heart—makes something fundamental shift inside me. Every wall I've built, every reason I've given myself for staying away from her, crumbles to dust.
She's here. She's in my lap, her body warm and pliant against mine, telling me she missed me. After everything I put her through, every cruel word and deliberate rejection, she still missed me.
I don't deserve this. Don't deserve her soft sighs or the way she's looking at me like I'm something worth having.
But fuck if I'm going to walk away from it now.
Not when I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, not when she's threading her fingers through my hair like I've always wanted her to.
Like I've seen her do to other men when I was too much of an idiot to take her as mine.
There's something I should tell her. I should mention her fiancé, the life she can't remember. The responsible thing would be to ask her about Ethan, to make sure she knows what she's choosing. But the thought of that bastard's name on her lips makes my jaw clench with possessive fury.
He let her get hurt. Let someone use her as a pawn, as leverage. What kind of man does that to the woman he's supposed to protect? What kind of coward doesn't even call the hospitals when she goes missing?
This—holding her, keeping her safe, making sure no one can touch her—this is right.
This is what I should have done years ago instead of pushing her away like an idiot.
I've spent my whole life trying to do right by Eve, even when it meant breaking both our hearts.
And keeping her away from a man who would let her be used as collateral? That's doing right by her too.
"Nash," she breathes against my mouth, and the sound of my name on her lips undoes me completely.
I flip us in one smooth motion, pressing her back against the mattress as I settle over her. She looks up at me with those warm brown eyes, her curls spread across the pillow like a halo, and I have to pause just to memorize the sight. Eve in my home, looking at me like she wants me to devour her.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmur, tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertips. "Do you know that? Do you know I used to lie awake at night thinking about touching you like this?"
Her breath catches, and I can see the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. "Even back then?"
"Especially then." I lean down to press my lips to that racing pulse point, feeling her shiver beneath me. "I was fighting myself every day, sweetheart. Wanting you so bad it hurt, knowing I had no right to touch you."
My hands find the hem of her sleep shirt, the soft cotton warm from her skin. She lifts her arms without hesitation, letting me pull it over her head and toss it aside. The sight of her bare chest makes my mouth go dry—perfect soft curves, dark nipples already peaked with arousal.
"I'm sorry," I whisper against her collarbone, pressing kisses along the delicate line of it. "I'm so fucking sorry for every time I hurt you, every time I made you think I didn't want you."
"Nash—"
"Let me apologize properly," I say, kissing lower, across the swell of her breast. "I have years to make up for."
I take one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, and the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—goes straight to my cock. But this isn't about me. This is about her, about showing her exactly how much I've wanted her, how much I've missed her.
"All I ever wanted was you," I confess against her skin, moving to lavish the same attention on her other breast. "From the time I was eight years old and you smiled at me like I was something special. I wanted you, and I was too fucked up to know how to handle it."
Her hands thread through my hair, holding me against her as I worship her body with my mouth. Every inch of skin tastes like heaven, like coming home after being lost for years. I kiss down her sternum, across her ribs, mapping every freckle and curve like I'm memorizing sacred text.
"I tried to do everything for you," I murmur against her stomach, feeling the muscles flutter under my lips. "Tried to protect you from me, from the darkness in me. But I did it all wrong, didn't I? I should have asked what you wanted instead of deciding for you."
"Yes," she gasps as I hook my fingers in the waistband of her pajama pants. "You should have asked."
I pull the soft cotton down her legs slowly, savoring every inch of skin revealed. She's not wearing anything underneath, and the sight of her completely bare makes me groan low in my throat. Perfect. She's absolutely perfect.
"I'm asking now," I say, settling between her thighs and looking up at her face. "Tell me what you want, Eve."
Her eyes are dark with desire, her breathing shallow and quick. "I want you to touch me. I want—" She breaks off with a shaky exhale. "I want you to make me forget everything except this."
Something fierce and possessive surges through me at her words. Yes. I want to erase every memory that isn't about us, want to brand myself so deep into her consciousness that nothing else matters.
"I'll give it to you, Eve." I press a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling her tremble. "My good girl," I murmur against her skin, and I don't miss the way her hips jerk at the words. "You like when I call you that, don't you?"
"Nash," she breathes, and there's desperation in her voice that makes my blood sing.
"Answer me, sweetheart. Do you like being my good girl?"
"Yes," she whispers, biting on her bottom lip. "I've always liked it."
The admission makes my cock throb almost painfully, but I push the sensation aside. This is about her pleasure, her needs. I've got years of worship to catch up on.
I kiss higher up her thigh, breathing in the sweet scent of her arousal. She's already so wet, so ready for me, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to maintain control. When I open them again, she's watching me with an expression of such trust and want that it nearly destroys me.
"I'm going to take care of you," I promise, settling my shoulders under her thighs. "Going to make you feel so good, sweetheart."
The first touch of my tongue against her center makes her cry out, her back arching off the bed. She tastes like honey and heat, like everything I've ever craved. I start slow, lazy strokes that make her squirm and gasp, relearning the geography of her body.
"Oh god," she moans, her hands fisting in the sheets. "Nash, please."
I love the way she says my name when she's desperate, the way it breaks apart in her throat. I increase the pressure, focusing on that sweet spot that makes her thighs tremble around my head. Her responses are so honest, so unguarded—every gasp and moan telling me exactly what she needs.
"That's it," I murmur against her, the vibration making her hips buck. "Let me hear you, Eve. Let me know how good I'm making you feel."
I slide two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around me as I find that perfect spot inside. She's so tight, so warm, and the way she responds to my touch is like a drug. I could spend hours between her legs, mapping every sensitive spot, learning exactly how to make her fall apart.
"You're being such a good girl for me," I praise, curling my fingers as I suck gently on her clit. "Taking everything I give you so perfectly."
The words make her sob with pleasure, her hands flying to my hair to hold me against her.
I can feel her getting closer, her body tensing and trembling as I work her higher.
Every stroke of my tongue, every curl of my fingers is designed to drive her wild, to show her exactly how much I've missed this—missed her.
"I can't—" she gasps, her voice breaking. "Nash, I can't?—"
"Yes, you can," I tell her firmly, never stopping my movements. "Come for me, Eve. Be my good girl and come all over my face."
The command pushes her over the edge. She shatters with a cry that's half my name, half prayer, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through her. I don't stop, working her through every pulse and tremor, drinking in her release like a man dying of thirst.
When she finally goes limp beneath me, I press soft kisses to her inner thighs, her stomach, working my way back up her body. She looks wrecked in the best possible way—hair wild, skin heated, eyes glazed with satisfaction.
"Holy shit," she breathes, reaching up to cup my face with shaking hands.
I lean into her touch, turning to press a kiss to her palm. "I've been dying to do that again," I admit. "You have no idea how many times I've replayed that night. How many times I've wanted you."
She pulls me down for a kiss, tasting herself on my lips with a soft moan that makes my cock twitch painfully in my jeans. But this isn't about me. This is about her, about showing her exactly how much she means to me.
"Nash," she whispers against my mouth, her hands already reaching for the hem of my shirt. And I let her pull the shirt up, taking in how I've changed over the years. All the tattoos I have now, and the scars from all the calls I've dealt with.
This is right. This is what I should have done years ago—claimed her, protected her, made sure she knew exactly how precious she is to me.
I'll deal with the complications later, with the life she can't remember and the man who doesn't deserve her.
Right now, all that matters is that she's here, safe in my arms, exactly where she belongs.
"I'm not letting you go again," I whisper against her mouth. "Not ever again."
She pulls back to look up at me, something soft and vulnerable in her expression. "Promise?"
"I promise," I tell her, and mean it with every fiber of my being. "You're mine now, Eve. You always have been, and I'm done acting like that's not true."