13. Intoxicating Blend of Pleasure and Pain
thirteen
Intoxicating Blend of Pleasure and Pain
Iris
Iris stirred in the darkened room, her senses emerging slowly from a deep sleep.
A faint rustling sound pricked her ears, and she blinked open her heavy-lidded eyes.
It must be Nash, back from where ever it was he went off to.
She never meant to fall asleep, but her body had other plans.
The sight of a familiar dark t-shirt shocked her.
It was Nash's shirt. She'd grabbed it days ago in the hospital, when she couldn't settle down even with the aid of a sleeping pill.
Being alone let the nightmares in. Nash kept them at bay, and when he wasn't there, the smell of his was enough to beat back her fears.
Her cheeks warmed with a sudden rush of blood as realization dawned on her—Nash must have caught her snuggling into his shirt for comfort. What must he think of her? How clingy could she be? Embarrassment sunk into her bones. But it wasn't like she could help it. The shirt was like a lifeline.
The scent of him, a heady mix of cologne and something innately masculine, clung to the fabric, surrounded her like an embrace.
Ever since the attack, Nash had become her safe place.
The only place that she felt secure. His presence alone could soothe her fears.
When he wasn't there, she needed the shirt, or she suffered through horrendous nightmares and panic attacks.
Slowly, she tucked the shirt back under her pillow, where she had been keeping it. Maybe he hadn't seen it, she thought to herself.
If he did, oh well. He's not getting it back. The thought rushed through her.
And she couldn't argue with herself. She wasn't giving it up.
It was the only thing standing between her and a total breakdown.
He would have to deal with it. She kept her body boneless as she listened to him move around in the walk-in closet.
She wanted to pretend sleep just a while longer, hoping he hadn't noticed the shirt when he came in.
As she laid there, she felt her muscles relax.
She hadn't even known she was tensed. Having him close settled her nerves.
She lay there for a moment, allowing herself the indulgence of feeling protected, cocooned in the very essence of him.
Iris couldn't deny it any longer; Nash had unwittingly become her sanctuary.
He always had been, even when she didn't know it.
He protected her from her parents, her sister, and now from some stranger who wanted her dead.
He might not be her knight in shining armor, but he was still her knight.
Maybe he was her knight in tarnished armor. But she needed him all the same.
Her thoughts scattered as Nash emerged from the walk-in closet.
His tall, muscular frame moved with purposeful grace, every inch the dominant force she knew he was.
In his hands, he cradled a pair of soft-looking sweatpants.
He immediately fixed his striking blue eyes on her.
"You're awake. Good. How are you feeling?
" he asked, his voice low and gravelly—a caress and a command all at once.
"Better," she whispered, her voice gritty from sleep. Iris watched him approach, acutely aware of a growing tension that seemed to charge the space between them.
Nash surveyed her face, searching for any sign of lingering discomfort. She was careful to hide it away. Not wanting to worry him anymore than he already was. Her pain was actually much better than it had been since the attack. She watched as his eyes darkened.
"Alright," he said curtly, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw on her face.
He extended the sweatpants toward her. "If you feel so much better, then you'll have no problem getting dressed all by yourself?
" She flushed deeply. Knowing that he'd seen right through her.
His eyes narrowed. "That's what I thought.
If I wanted to be lied to, I wouldn't bother asking.
Tell me the truth when I ask you a question. "
"I wasn't lying," she protested angrily. "It is better. I feel amazing compared to the last few days." She insisted, upset at the insinuation that all she did was lie to him. He stared at her for a long, tense moment before nodding.
"Probably all the sleep," he speculated, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the quiet room. His eyes lingered on her face, searching for something in her eyes. Whatever it was, it was clear he didn't find it.
"Sleep?" Iris queried, confusion knitting her brows together delicately.
"You've been out for nearly fifteen hours, ma fleur," Nash informed her with a matter-of-fact attitude. Her eyes widened in shock, the reality of time lost dawning on her.
"Fifteen hours?" She gasped out. Unable to believe that she'd slept for so long. The pressure in her bladder made sense now.
"Your body needed it," he continued with a shrug.
He walked away from her, grabbing something from the dresser that sat along one wall.
His tone taking on a gentler timbre as he turned back towards her with purpose.
He returned holding a chilled bottle of orange juice and a single pill between his fingers, offering both to her.
"You are overdue for your medication, though. I let you sleep as long as possible."
With a grateful nod, she accepted both, swallowing the pill with one swallow.
The sweet juice felt amazing on her dry tongue.
After sleeping for so long, she was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was.
She took three more great swallows, nearly finishing it.
Once she lowered the bottle, she glanced up at him.
"Get ready. We're going down to the spa," Nash announced once he took the now near-empty bottle. His statement hung heavy in the air.
The spa? She could barely make sense of his words.
Once upon a time, that had been her favorite room in this entire house, but he never went there with her.
At her silence, he wiggled his hand that held the clothes.
Iris's gaze dropped to stare at his fist, and her brows rose when she noticed the way his fingers subtly shifted to reveal the bright red string bikini hidden beneath the sweatpants.
Her heartbeat quickened, heat crawling up her neck and flushing her cheeks.
She remembered that bikini, remembered the way his eyes had devoured her every curve as she wore it.
She especially remembered how she wore that bikini to tempt him away from work on more than one occasion.
The memory sent a jolt of awareness straight to her core, awakening a familiar ache.
"The spa?" She barely managed to croak out the word.
"Come on," Nash's voice was gruff, more command than request. Iris pushed herself up from the bed, her legs unsteady, and immediately felt the sharp protest from her wounded side.
A wobble sent her faltering, but before she could fall, his strong arms steadied her.
"Sit," he ordered, guiding her back down onto the mattress.
Nash's hands were surprisingly gentle as they peeled away the soft pajamas from her body, exposing her to his heated gaze.
Iris couldn't stop the shiver that ran through her, caused by the way his eyes blazed at her as he helped her into the swimsuit.
As she slid into the bikini, the fabric felt like it exposed more than it concealed.
The hospital stay dropped her weight down, closer to what she weighed three years ago, but her curves were still bigger than before.
The strings that covered so much before were straining.
His gaze lingered on her barely covered breasts, and for a moment, time seemed to slow, the air thickening between them.
Then, leaning forward, Nash placed an open mouth kiss over her nipple, the material doing little to diminish the heat of his mouth.
A soft gasp escaped Iris's lips, her body responding despite the pain in her side.
She held her breath as his mouth lifted away from her top.
But, rather than continuing, he pulled away.
She looked at him with a disappointed frown.
He saw it. She knew he did because his lips turned up into a much-too-pleased smirk.
She narrowed her eyes at him. He let out a small huff of air, not quite a chuckle, but close to it.
He leaned back in towards her, his mouth tracing her collarbone. Right over her nearly healed scar.
"I don't want to kill any of my own guards," he murmured against her skin, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.
It was a statement laced with dark intent.
"So you're going to need to cover up." He reached for the sweatpants, his movements precise and controlled as he helped her into them.
Iris felt like she was losing herself. All she could think about was sex now.
It was as if now that she couldn't have it, it's the only thing she wanted.
As he helped her stand to get the pants on, all she could feel was the strength in his hands.
The power he wielded with such ease it ignited a deep hunger in her.
Since he found her, she had scarcely gone a few hours without an orgasm from him, and now it'd been weeks.
In the hospital, it was torture. Between the guards and Daisy, she was never alone. Not to mention her brother Ash. He made sure to pop in as well. Which she tried to tell herself not to get her hopes up about. Her family had disappointed her too many times before.
Lifting her into his arms effortlessly, Nash carried her out of the bedroom, after making a quick stop in the bathroom. Iris clung to him, her side aching, but she didn't care. She sunk into the safety she felt in his arms.
She knew this couldn't last, but she found herself hoping it would, all the same.