32. Nash #3
But the fear is still there, clawing at my chest with cold fingers.
The memory of seeing her broken and bloody in that street, of watching her struggle to remember who she was, of standing in that warehouse while someone else's blood pooled on the concrete—it all could have gone differently.
She could have died in that street. Ethan could have succeeded in silencing her permanently.
I could have lost her before I ever really had her.
The thought makes me desperate, frantic to touch every inch of her skin and memorize the feel of her beneath my hands.
I sit back on my heels and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it aside before reaching for the hem of her sweater.
She lifts her arms to help me, and then she's bare from the waist up except for a simple black bra that makes my mouth go dry.
"Fucking beautiful," I breathe, my hands spanning her ribcage as I drink in the sight of her.
Her skin is smooth and warm, darker and beautiful, glowing in the silver light from the windows.
There's a small scar near her left shoulder I hadn't seen before and that I don't remember from when we were teenagers, and I lean down to press my lips to it, wondering what story it tells.
"This is new," I murmur against the mark.
"Cooking accident," she explains, her voice shaky as my mouth moves across her skin. "Last year. The pan slipped and caught my shoulder."
I kiss it again, more tenderly this time, then continue my exploration of her body. Her bra disappears somewhere in the tangle of hands and mouths, and then I'm cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing across her nipples until she's writhing beneath me.
"Nash, please," she gasps, her hips lifting to press against mine where I'm still wearing jeans that are becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
"Please what?" I ask, even as I'm already moving to strip away the rest of our clothes. I need to hear her say it, need to know that she wants this as desperately as I do.
"Please touch me. Fuck me. I need you."
The honesty in her voice, the complete lack of pretense or games, makes my chest tight with emotion. This is Eve—direct and genuine even in her desire, giving me exactly what I need to hear without making me guess or work for it.
I make quick work of her remaining clothes, then my own, until we're finally skin to skin with nothing between us.
She's perfect beneath me—all soft curves and warm brown skin that feels like silk under my hands.
Her body is different from what I remember from our teenage years, fuller in all the right places, marked with the small scars and imperfections that come with living.
I love every inch of it.
"I've thought about this for so long," I confess as I settle between her thighs, my cock resting against her but not yet pushing inside.
"Dreamed about having you in my bed again, about making you come apart in my hands.
" Even if we had sex yesterday, it still isn't enough compared to how long I've wanted her.
She reaches up to cup my face, her thumbs brushing across my cheekbones in a gesture so tender it makes my throat tight. "Then do it," she whispers. "Take me, Nash. I'm yours. I always have been."
I push inside her slowly, savoring the way she opens for me, the soft gasp that escapes her lips as I fill her completely. She's wet and tight and perfect, her body welcoming mine like we were made for this, made for each other.
"Fuck," I breathe against her ear, holding still for a moment to let her adjust. "You feel incredible, sweetheart."
Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my lower back as she pulls me deeper. "Move," she demands, her voice rough with need. "I need you to move."
I start slow, long strokes that make her arch beneath me, her nails leaving crescents in my shoulders as she clings to me. But the deliberate pace doesn't last long—not when she's making those soft sounds of pleasure, not when I can feel how close I came to losing her forever.
I fuck her like I'll never get the chance again, like this is the last time I'll ever have her in my arms. My hips snap against hers with increasing urgency, each thrust deeper than the last as I chase the sounds of her pleasure.
She meets me stroke for stroke, her body rising to meet mine as we find a rhythm that leaves us both gasping.
"That's it," I murmur against her throat when she cries out, her inner walls clenching around me. "Come for me, Eve. Let me feel you."
Her first orgasm hits her like a wave, her back arching off the bed as she calls my name. I don't slow down, don't give her time to recover before I'm driving her toward the next peak, my thumb finding her clit as I continue to move inside her.
"Again," I demand, my voice rough with exertion and desperate need. "Give me another one."
She's sensitive now, every touch making her gasp and writhe beneath me, but she doesn't ask me to stop. Instead she pulls me down for a kiss that's all tongue and teeth, her hands fisting in my hair as she holds me close.
Her second orgasm builds slower but hits harder, her entire body trembling as waves of pleasure crash over her. I can feel her pulsing around me, can see the way her eyes roll back as she loses herself to the sensation.
"Please," she gasps when she can speak again, her voice wrecked and beautiful. "I need... I need to feel you come. Please, Nash."
The request breaks what little control I have left.
I fuck her harder, chasing my own release as she continues to pulse around me, her body still sensitive from her climax.
When I feel the familiar tightening at the base of my spine, I pull out at the last second, wrapping my hand around my cock as I stroke myself to completion.
I come with a groan that seems to come from my soul, spilling across her chest and stomach as she watches with dark, satisfied eyes. The sight of my release marking her skin, claiming her in the most primal way possible, makes something possessive and fierce surge through me.
But then she does something that nearly stops my heart entirely—she runs her fingers through the evidence of my pleasure, smearing it across her skin with deliberate movements, her eyes never leaving mine.
"I like being yours," she whispers, her voice soft but certain as she continues to mark herself with my release. "I like knowing that no one else has had you here, in your bed. I like that I'm the only one."
And so do I.