21. Nash
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nash
I kiss her harder, deeper, desperate to close the distance between us. I forget the journal upstairs, the map with both our family names written side by side like a warning.
I’m drowning in her. Winter pine and bergamot, her warmth threaded through the cold of Juniper House, the only sane thing left. My hands find her waist, pull her closer, and for one suspended second, the storm outside is a rumor.
I can’t wait any longer.
My hands move swiftly, pulling her sweater off over her head, the fabric slipping from her body as if it never existed, exposing her to me, every inch of her glowing under the soft light. My eyes run over the goosebumps that pop along her arm.
She’s perfect, flawless, and I can’t resist the urge to taste every inch of her skin. My lips find the sensitive spot just below her ear, kissing it softly, then trailing down her neck, feeling the rapid pulse of her heart against my mouth.
She gasps, arching into me as I move lower, my lips brushing the delicate curve of her collarbone, then down to the swell of her chest. I hear her breath hitch when my fingers graze the skin above her bra, and I can’t help but smile. She’s so beautiful, so irresistible.
“Tessa…” I murmur, ragged, trembling with everything I’m trying to hold back, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s desperate for more.
My fingers find the clasp of her bra, trembling with the same need that’s clawing at me. The snap of it coming undone is almost too much. I can’t wait. I lean down, kissing her, just a quick press of my lips before I move lower, exploring, tasting every inch of her soft skin.
She lets out a soft, breathy moan, and I take my time, savoring the feel of her body beneath my hands. Nothing else exists but us.
Her hands move down my chest, over my stomach, and then she’s at my belt, her fingers trembling as she works it loose.
I know what she wants, and I’m not stopping her.
I can feel the sizzling between us, the pull of her hands as she tugs, and the sharp intake of breath when she finally gets me free, leaving me in nothing but my boxers.
Tessa looks at me then, eyes dark and needy, lips parted, her hands trailing over my jaw. Before I can process it, she pulls me to her, her lips crashing into mine with a desperation that matches the hunger inside me.
We’re past the point of no return.
I can’t hold back any longer, so I slowly drag her leggings down her hips, pausing to look at her, to drink in the flush of her skin, the way her body reacts to my touch.
She helps me free her from the fabric, and I slide them off, feeling the curve of her thighs, every inch of her soft, burning skin.
My hands move to the waistband of her underwear, grazing the delicate lace. I meet her gaze, searching for any hesitation, but I find none. There’s only hunger, only urgency there, and I know I’m not stopping. She’s pulling me closer, her body urging me on with every movement, every breath.
I tug at the waistband tantalizingly slowly, savoring the moment, and when they finally slide down her legs, I’m struck by the beauty of her, laid bare, exposed for me.
I take a moment just to look at her, every inch of her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths, her eyes molten with desire.
She’s everything. Every soft curve, every trembling breath.
It’s all I can think about as I press against her, feeling the heat of her body, the slickness of her skin as she moves beneath me.
She rocks her hips once, and the friction sends a bolt of electricity through my spine, hitting me right in the core.
A low groan escapes me, raw and needy, before I can stop it.
My body tightens, my control slipping, and I feel myself harden even more, aching for her, desperate for more.
Every inch of her is a damn temptation, and I’m losing myself in her, in this moment.
I guide her backward through the doorway, kissing her hard, until we hit the couch.
I lean down, my breath hot against her ear, pressing a slow, intense kiss to the sensitive spot just below it, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my lips.
She shifts against me, her body a silent invitation, and I let my lips trail lower, grazing her collarbone with a touch that’s both light and firm.
I can’t get enough of the feel of her skin. Her breath catches when I brush past the curve of her chest, and a dark smile tugs at my lips. She’s already undone, chest rising and falling with every shallow breath, body trembling beneath my touch.
“Nash…” she whispers, barely more than a broken plea, thick with need.
She’s losing control and doesn’t want to fight it anymore.
I move lower, lips brushing the curve of her breast, then trailing down her stomach, savoring the smooth skin beneath me with a tantalizingly slow touch. Her back arches, and she groans, hands gripping my hair, pulling me in closer, desperate for more.
“Nash,” she gasps, trembling beneath me, a sound that sends a thrill through my spine.
I press my mouth against her, lowering further, the heat of her body setting my pulse on fire.
My tongue finds the delicate skin of her inner thighs, and I take my time, tracing every inch with agonizing slowness, savoring how she trembles at the sensation.
She shivers, her legs parting instinctively, urging me closer, silently begging me to do more.
I hear her breath catch, the moan that escapes her lips a sound I crave more than anything else.
I tease her slowly and relentlessly.
Her hands find my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as she presses her hips up, desperate for more. The sound of her voice, her need, drives me wild, and I answer it, pushing deeper, tasting her with a hunger that takes over my every sense.
She moans, a broken whisper against my skin. "Nash, please."
Her hips lift off the couch, her body begging for release, and I give her what she wants, what she needs, my mouth completely devouring her. She comes apart against me with a soft cry, her body tightening as the tremor of her release shakes through her.
I don’t stop.
I hold her there, let her ride the wave of pleasure, feeling every pulse of her body, every breathless, shuddering moan. I pull away just long enough to look up at her, my lips brushing against hers, still trembling with the need to be inside her.
The room is thick with the sound of her breath, quick and shallow, her hands grasping at me, pulling me closer. I can feel the fire in her, the way her body is still trembling beneath my hands.
I pull away just enough to see her face, flushed with desire, her chest heaving with each breath. She’s trembling, her eyes still heavy with the aftermath of her release, and I can’t help but lose myself in the way she looks at me. The hunger in her matches mine, the fire still burning between us.
Without a second thought, I move back up, my hands framing her face, my thumb brushing over her parted lips before I kiss her again.
I’m trying to steal the very breath from her.
She gasps into my mouth, and I can taste the remnants of her, feel the heat of her skin against mine. Her hands find my chest again, fingers pressing into me as if to pull me even closer, her body pushing up to meet mine, demanding more, needing more.
I can’t get close enough. I lean into her, my chest pressing against hers, fueling the need that’s been building inside me.
Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist, pulling me down onto her, making me feel the soft pressure of her body against mine.
It’s impossible to ignore the way she fits perfectly.
We were made for this, for each other.
Her lips part against mine as she shudders beneath me, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue sweeping inside her mouth in a slow, possessive exploration.
The taste of her drives me wild, and I feel the tension building again, need surging through me, hotter, sharper.
My hands slide down her back, gripping her hips, pulling her closer until I can feel every inch of her pressed against me.
I slide my hands up to her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, my grip firm as I position myself above her.
The moment I make contact, the tip of me brushes against her, a shock of electricity passing between us, both of us gasping in unison.
She arches up into me, desperate, urging me closer, and I can’t resist.
The invitation in her movement is undeniable, a silent command, and I’m lost in it.
I push in slowly, teasing her, testing the tension in our bodies, inch by inch. The heat of her surrounds me, tight and wet, and it’s almost too much to handle.
But I hold back, barely. I move just enough to make her breathe faster, to make her twitch beneath me. My groan is low, guttural, and it mixes with the sound of her breath as she lets out a whimper, her fingers gripping my back, pulling me closer.
Her body is a battleground, her hips rising to meet mine with every inch I give, and I can feel the urgency in her every movement. I can feel her need, the way her body shakes beneath me, and I know she wants more. She needs more. So I give it to her.
I thrust, slow but deep, each movement intense, and the sounds of her moaning, her gasps, only fuel the fire between us. Her legs hook around my waist, her heels digging into my back as she pulls me in closer, tighter, urging me to take her completely.
I can feel her pulse, her body reacting, tightening around me as if it’s trying to pull me deeper. It’s impossible to stay in control. I growl low, the tension in my body snapping as I give in to the rhythm, the pace growing faster, harder.
I’m losing myself, but there’s more… darker in the way she moves, the way she pulls at me, commanding me to take more. The need for control, for dominance, mixes with the way she’s offering herself so freely, and I know I can’t back down.
The pace quickens, and I feel her hands dig into my skin, nails scraping, making her mark on me. She’s desperate, and it makes my blood run hot.
“Nash… I need you,” she whispers, breathless plea, and I hear the edge of desperation in it.
The kind of desperate need that makes me lose my last thread of restraint. The way she says my name, as a command, begging me to break her, to give her everything. The way her body moves, bucking against mine, urging me to take her harder, deeper, drives me to the brink.
I move faster, pushing her limits, feeling her body respond, each thrust sending us both higher, making her gasp, making her moan in that perfect, desperate way. Her body is tight, slick, and I feel every inch of her wrapping around me, claiming me, just as much as I’m claiming her.
I can feel her, feel the way she’s close, her body trembling, the way her hands clutch at my skin, as if she’s trying to hold on, but it’s not enough.
I pull back, just slightly, teasing her with the control I have over her release, and she lets out a frustrated cry, her hips moving, trying to chase the feeling of me.
I watch her, her face flushed with need, her eyes wild, and I can’t wait any longer.
I drive into her again, harder, faster, each thrust an answer to her desperate cries.
"Don’t stop," she begs, and it’s the sound of her voice, breathless and pleading, that breaks the last of my control.
I give her what she needs. I push her, harder, until she’s coming undone beneath me. The sound of her climax, the way her body quivers and tightens around me, sends me over the edge. I lose myself in her, in the way she shatters for me, in the way she lets go, offering herself completely.
And as I spill into her, the release is almost violent. Everything in me is breaking as we fall together, consumed by the connection that’s pulled us into this moment.
We’re both breathless, trembling, as I collapse onto her, our bodies slick with sweat, tangled together in a heap of exhaustion and euphoria.
My arm curls around her instinctively, and I trace slow patterns along her arm until her breathing evens out.
Immediately, I know I’m in trouble.
Not because of the storm or because Juniper House is cut off from the world, a forgotten dot on the map. Not because there’s a land war waiting for us back in Buckhorn, sharpened and ready to draw blood the second we set foot in town again.
I’m in trouble because my heart hurts.
Because it aches for Tessa Long in this quiet, private, terrifying way that has nothing to do with heat or adrenaline or getting carried away in a house full of old paper and older ghosts.
It’s the ache of wanting.
A wanting I know I’m not allowed.