Текст книги "Nash"

Автор книги: Jay Crownover

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“But—”

“But nothing. I wouldn’t have said anything like that about you because I didn’t think it. I thought you were pretty then, I think you’re unbelievably gorgeous now, and all along I’ve known girls like you don’t get into guys like me. Girls like Ashley Maxwell do.”

I reached out and put my hand on his that was curled so tightly on the steering wheel. I had always been into a guy like him, that’s why those awful words still haunted me.

“Nash …” The way I wanted to believe him, trust in him, was overwhelming and I had to admit he might have a point about telling him I was going to that party to specifically see him. Mostly I was caving and thinking there might be more to what happened back then because it made me feel less confused about the way I wanted him, the way he just lit me up with a mere look.

He looked at my hand and then into my eyes.

“Even if some jerk did say that about you, you should know that it was just kids being dumb and none of it was true. And I swear I never would have thrown away an opportunity to hang out with you if I knew you were offering it up. Back then, a party like that meant one thing—getting laid. I had a one-track mind. Words like that, others’ opinions of you, shouldn’t have that kind of power, Saint.”

But they did and therein lay the problem. I was always guilty of letting other people’s words and actions hurt me and dictate how I felt about myself, and it was costing me more than I ever thought. I wanted who he was with me now to be the real Nash, not the Nash that still haunted my memories with indifference and careless words.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and stuck it in his mouth. I gasped at him and reached over to yank it out of his mouth, which had him glaring at me even harder.

“No! I thought you quit?”

“I did, until last week.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. I knew what happened last week that would have made him start up again. I was to blame for that, but I could rectify it now if he let me.

I shoved the door open and bent down to look at him. “Come inside with me, Nash.”

He threw his head back against the headrest and shook his head in the negative.

“That didn’t work out so great for me last time, Saint.”

No, it hadn’t, but I was tired from holding on to who I’d thought Nash had been, when the Nash from now was all gorgeous and accommodating in front of me. He had dropped everything and come to pick me up without question. I threw his unlit cigarette on the ground next to me and lifted both of my eyebrows at him. It was time to make new memories to replace the old ones that haunted me.

“I’ve never wanted to have sex with any guy like that before. I couldn’t stop myself, didn’t want to stop. I want you, want to touch you, feel you, and it was amazing for me. No guy, ever, has gotten me off before, Nash. Not that there have been a lot, but you are the only one. I can’t promise you that I’m not going to freak out again. There’s a good chance I might start to cry because I don’t really have a handle on all the things you make me feel, good and bad, but I want you to come inside. I don’t want the past between us right now.” I didn’t want anything to stand between us anymore.

He looked like he was going to tell me no. I don’t know how I would have handled that, actual, undeniable, in-my-face rejection, but luckily I didn’t have to find out because he threw open his door and climbed out of the car and looked at me over the roof. He wasn’t going to disappoint me. That made my heart flutter and my tummy go all squishy and warm.

“Let’s give it ten minutes. Ten minutes, and if it isn’t going to work for both of us, let’s cut our losses and no one gets hurt or”—one of his black eyebrows shot up and a self-deprecating grin pulled at his mouth—“left hanging.”

“Ten minutes?” It didn’t sound like nearly enough time to touch all that smooth, burnished skin.

“Ten minutes.”

I could handle ten minutes without freaking out. Heck, when he kissed me the first time, it had lasted longer than ten minutes. I could do this, wanted to do this, but that didn’t mean my hands stopped shaking or the idea of getting naked with him didn’t have my stomach dipping and second thoughts trying to shove their way up from the depths. I talked a good game about letting sleeping dogs lie, but really I could feel they were always there, tugging hard on the leash.

On the plus side, getting naked with him again meant I was finally going to see the rest of that tattoo.

CHAPTER 9
Nash

Ten minutes. No big deal, but something told me they were going to be the ten most important minutes in my life. Especially after what she had just revealed about the past and why she ran so hot and cold with me. That was some heavy stuff, made the way I needed kid gloves with her so much more understandable. She was into me, but she sort of hated me as well. That wasn’t a spot I had ever been in before.

I even remembered both those moments in question. It was all kind of hazy and foggy with time, but I recalled the main parts of it. That party had been one of many. I’m pretty sure I had already been drunk before showing up. Ashley Maxwell and I had an easy thing going where if I showed up without a chick, I usually ended the night in her bed. I can’t even remember what she looked like and I sure as hell don’t remember asking Saint if she was going to be there. Parties like that were below her and I knew it. Hearing her take on the situation made me feel like an asshole and it made why she had suddenly started treating me like a leper back then understandable.

The day she had caught me running my mouth was less clear. I didn’t remember what I had been talking about, or the words I had used, but I do remember seeing her come around the corner looking like she was going to be sick all over the place and crying big, fat tears. At the time I thought if we were actually friends, or if she wasn’t so shy, I would have asked her what was wrong. She was too pretty to look that heartbroken.

I wasn’t a saint. I was an angry teenager cast aside and trying to figure out what kind of young man I was ultimately going to become. That had been a rocky road for a while and I said dumb shit, used hurtful words when I was shooting off my mouth, but I had never been and would never be a gossip or a bully. Yes, whatever she had overheard me say was inappropriate and taken out of whatever context I was using it in, and probably made me sound and appear to be the biggest dickhead on the planet.

However, what bothered me most wasn’t that Saint had stumbled across me acting like an idiot and held it against me all this time, but that she had just automatically thought whoever I was bitching about had been her. That spoke to self-esteem issues and self-doubt that I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle. Not to mention I didn’t really know how to show her the guy I was now versus the pissed-off kid I had been then.

I shadowed her into her apartment and followed suit as she tossed her coat on the back of her couch. I didn’t even look around the place. When she turned to face me I stepped immediately into her space. I wasn’t going to give her the option of running again. She was almost as tall as I was with those wicked boots on. I grabbed her hair in one hand and wrapped the curls around my fist and used my other to grab on to her chin. She was caught.

“We can do a lot in ten minutes, Saint. Where is the bedroom?”

She looked a little unsure and tilted her head in the direction of a doorway past the little galley kitchen. Since I was working on a clock, I didn’t have a lot of time to waste. I kissed her and simultaneously moved her backward in the direction of the door. She moved with me, which made me sigh in appreciation against her lips. She got her hands under the hem of my thermal and started to tug it up over my back and ribs.

No way was that happening again. I hit the door and pinned her against it, which made her gasp a little and had her eyes widening in surprise. I had to say I liked how well we lined up. It would be super easy to tangle her all around me and get down to business … maybe after these ten minutes were up I would show her that ten more would be a great idea … and ten more after that. I gently untangled her fingers from the fabric of my shirt and lightly put my hands on her narrow waist under the hem of her sparkly tank top.

“My turn.”

I think she was stunned, but she stuck her bottom lip out a little bit at me and I couldn’t resist the desire to catch it between my teeth.

“But I want to see your tattoo.” Her voice was breathy and had a catch to it that made my dick all kinds of happy.

I lifted an eyebrow and watched her carefully as I got her top off up over her head. She was breathing shallow and obviously she was anxious, but so far so good, and I still had time on the clock. I turned the doorknob behind her and the door opened easily with her weight leaned against it. As I continued to dance her backward I found the tiny little zipper on the back of her skirt and started to pull it down.

I kissed her again to distract her from the fact that I was steadily heading her toward the bed in the center of the room and told her in a husky voice, “Later. It’s not going anywhere.”

I wanted to turn the lights on so I could see all that pretty white skin I was uncovering and the way all her red-and-copper-colored hair looked all over it, and the bed, and me when we got there. I didn’t think she was there with me yet, though. She was kissing me back, had her arms wrapped around my neck, but she was still stiff and she didn’t seem like she was in any hurry to let me get down to business as I wiggled the skirt over her hips and down over those pirate boots.

“Nash …” There was hesitancy in her voice and I felt like I was running out of time.

I got down so that I was on my knees in front of where she was hovering on the edge of the bed. She looked like she wanted to bolt but she took a deep breath and looked down at me. Her eyes were swirling like a hurricane. In that gaze was an equal mix of desire, trepidation, and question. The way her breasts rose and fell was captivating. She put one of her hands on either side of my head so she was holding on to the fire that marked my skin.

“You okay?” I stuck the tip of my tongue in her belly button and she whimpered a little.

“No. But I don’t want you to stop.”

I looked up at her from under my eyelashes.

“Good, because I’m not going to.”

I could see she had no idea what I was talking about and I figured surprise was in my favor. The boots were going to have to stay; it would take too long to get them off, but the cute, black underwear had to go. I sent out a silent hope that they weren’t a favorite pair and snapped the elastic on either side, leaving her very much naked and exposed, right in front of my face. She was obviously turned on, but the way her stomach quivered let me know she was equally nervous.

She called my name in a panicked tone, and I felt her fingernails curl into my scalp, so I knew I had to distract her. No problem. She was shaking so bad and the heels on those boots were so high it only took a little nudge to get her to topple back on the bed. She started to wiggle away across the mattress, but I was bigger, and I think more determined to prove to her we should be doing this than her fear was. I trailed my fingers up the inside of her thigh and lifted it up over my shoulder. I was listening, because if she told me no, told me to stop, I wasn’t going to push her, but all I heard was a breathy panting and my name said like a curse on repeat.

God, was she sweet in spirit and flavor. I don’t think I had ever had my lips and tongue on anything that tasted as good as her. I don’t how much trembling and spasming was happening because she was freaked out, or how much was because I put my mouth on her. I caught her clit between my teeth and sucked—hard—which made her jolt so much that her hips lifted off the bed. I used her move to slide my hands up under her and hold her to my face.

“What are you doing to me?”

It wasn’t a question, it was more a plea, so I just hummed lightly against her trapped flesh until I felt the rest of her body start to respond. Her thighs trembled, her channel got damp and oh so welcoming, and I took that as an invitation to add my hands to the mix. I let go with one hand and trailed it around so I could stroke her, pet her, lick at her until she was tossing her head from side to side and I could see her hands curling into the sheets on the bed. It was the most beautifully unrestrained thing I had ever seen in my life. She tasted wild, she tasted special and slightly illicit, and I knew it was the best ten minutes any other person had ever given to me. Even if we didn’t make it to the end this time, at least I got to see her like this, feel what I was doing to her and how much she liked it.

I felt the crest of her orgasm roll over my tongue, felt her inner walls squeeze around my stroking fingers, and felt the tense muscles in her thighs go lax as she made a high-pitched sound in her throat and just sort of vibrated all around me. I gave her little nub one last hard flick with the tip of my tongue and rose up to my feet in one fluid motion.

I put my hands on either side of her hips and looked down at her replete form. Her stomach was fluttering with aftershocks, her pale skin glowed with a nice, rosy flush that I could see even in the dark, and her eyes were open, dazed and staring right at me. Yes, there were glossy tears in them, but they weren’t falling and she didn’t look half as shell-shocked as the last time we had tried to do this. She looked awed and slightly dumbfounded. My ego was thrilled with the results.

“Time’s up, Saint. It’s your call what happens from here.”

She blinked slowly at me.

“It’s not you getting me off that worried me in the first place, Nash. You already proved you could with very little effort. It’s the other way around that makes me want to hyperventilate and run for the hills.”

Her voice was barely a whisper and it squeezed something in my chest. She was so honeyed, so pretty, I didn’t understand how she didn’t just know any guy would bend over backward to get the opportunity to worship her. Saint naked wasn’t something any decent man would ever pass on the opportunity to appreciate with his hands, his mouth—with everything he had and then some.

“I don’t know how to make you understand that isn’t a possibility. Nothing about you could ever disappoint any man, Saint.”

She sat up on the bed and quaked a little. She was looking me dead in the eye when she reached behind her and unclipped the bra she still had on. She was perfect. I mean really perfect, all full breasts, smooth skin, and perky pink nipples. She was just about my favorite thing I think I had ever managed to lay eyes on, and I didn’t have a clue what to goddamn do with her.

She scooted to the edge of the bed so her legs were on either side of mine and she was face level with my stomach. She put her hands on my abs and started pushing my shirt up. I grabbed it by the collar and ripped it off one-handed over my head. While I did that she tangled with my belt buckle. She glanced up at me and I could see her fingers were shaking again.

“Do you have anything? I don’t keep protection on hand, because … well, you can probably figure out why.”

I wanted to laugh, but she was really close to my dick and I was having a hard time keeping my thoughts in order.

I pulled out my wallet and tossed it on the bed next to her.

“In there.” I felt like if I let her take the lead, this had less of a chance in ending with me having blue balls and a lonely shower again.

She muttered something I didn’t catch and trailed the tips of her fingers along the tips of the wings tattooed all along my sides and down across my front. The very tip of each wing ended right next to my crotch and had probably been the most miserable tattooing experience of my life. I thought she was going to stop when she reached the top of my boxers, but she didn’t. She pulled them down, setting my cock free, and traced the wings all the way down to where they stopped.

“Had to hurt.” I didn’t really want to talk, but if it set her at ease, I was going to force myself to do it.

“Like a bitch.”

She put a finger on the PA where it decorated the tip of my erection and looked up at me.

“This, too?”

I snorted out a laugh. “The tattoo was worse.”

“Ohhhhh …” She trailed off and tentatively reached for the wallet so she could find the condom. I was waiting for her to call the whole thing off, anticipating it, when she surprised me yet again.

“You’re gorgeous, and really fun to look at. I think it gets even better when you start to lose your clothes.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that and then I couldn’t say anything because she wrapped her fist around the base of my straining dick and gave it a firm squeeze. I swore and she looked up at me. I just shrugged and she did it again, which made a drop of pre-cum pearl up at the tip. I didn’t know how long my self-control was going to hold out while she was exploring everything I was working with. I wanted to tell her to just let go, that if she let me I could use it all to make her feel really good, but it was her show for now, so I just clicked my teeth shut on the inside of my cheek and let her brush the metal with her fingers and roll the barbell around. It was the most torturous show-and-tell I had ever endured.

I muttered her name, threaded my fingers in her endless miles of hair, and gripped her head hard enough that I could tilt her face up so she was looking at me and not at my straining cock.

“Happy New Year, Saint.”

Both her fiery eyebrows shot up and she looked at the digital clock that did indeed read midnight. She gave a little sigh and picked the condom up.

“Happy New Year, Nash.”

She got the latex on just as efficiently as she had the last time and scooted back on the bed so that I could crawl up and over her. She wrapped her legs, still clad in those boots, up around my waist and I lifted up her hips so I could slide inside her in one long, smooth stroke. I wasn’t wasting any more time. I felt like I had been waiting for this girl, this moment, forever.

I kept my eyes on her face and she did the same on mine. Her eyelids fluttered and her chest started to rise and fall where it was pressed tightly against mine, but she curled her hands around my biceps and lifted herself up a little higher, which made me groan. I bracketed my arms around her head when we finally got into a rhythm that worked for both of us and dropped down so I could kiss her slightly open mouth.

I was rocking into her fast and hard, partly because I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to change her mind, but mostly because I had been dreaming about this for a week since she left me on Christmas and I couldn’t stop. She was hot, she was tight, she pulsated and burned along me in a way that made pleasure coil and snap along my spine. I was desperate for her and I could feel the pleasure and want building back up inside of her. I was using my tongue in her mouth to mimic what I was doing to her with my body and her hands were getting tighter, the noises she was making in the back of her throat were getting more frantic, and I could feel her inner walls drag and pull against my dick with greedy and needy movements.

I wanted to pry loose so I could get my mouth on those perfectly shaped breasts, but there wasn’t time. She gasped, moved her long legs up even higher along my sides, and I felt her break apart, felt something that defined this moment as something greater than anything else I had ever felt move across both of us, and I grunted, pulled her closer, and released everything that was consuming about her back into her. Maybe that would be the only way I could ever really show her that she was so much better than any self-doubt she might have. I’d never had an orgasm that hollowed me out before, never come and right on the heels of the warm fuzzies that followed felt like it somehow mattered more than anything that had ever existed before.

I chanced a look at her face and her eyes were closed, but she had a soft smile on her lips. Even though there were indeed twin tracks of moisture trailing over her cheeks, she didn’t look devastated or horrified like last time. Honestly, there was enough emotion pushing at my chest I wasn’t sure that my eyes weren’t glassy and glazed over as well.

I felt compelled to ask, “All good?”

I levered up off of her, and when I pulled out, the drag of sensitized flesh against swollen folds made both of us groan a little.

She pried her eyes open and sat up. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and pulled one leg up to start working on those boots. Good Lord, she was going to kill me. All naked white skin, fire-colored hair, and sexy-as-hell black boots. I could die a happy man if that was the last image I got to take with me to the grave.

“Maybe next time we can try it without so many accessories in the way.”

I chuckled because I was still mostly dressed from the waist down, had been both times, but really I wanted to shout in victory at the fact she was even joking about there being a next time and not showing me the door.

“Sounds like a plan.”

She climbed off the other side of the bed and grabbed a robe that was hanging on the back of her closet door and flicked on the light. I blinked to get my eyes to adjust while she settled herself cross-legged in the center of the bed. She fiddled with the lapels and I remembered she mentioned not really liking to be naked. It was a shame, looking the way she did, she should never wear clothes.

“I wanna see the tattoo.”

I brushed my hands over my head.

“I gotta take care of this first, and well …” I sort of tossed my hands up. “It’s huge, and if you want to see it all, I have to get all the way naked.”

Now I could see her really blush.

“Bathroom’s that way.” She pointed in the direction we had stumbled in from. “I think my curiosity is greater than my embarrassment might be at this point. I really do wanna see it.”

I shrugged. “All right. I’ll be right back.”

I wasn’t shy. I would’ve stripped for her right then and there, but as much as I needed a minute to figure out why I felt like my entire world was suddenly rotating on another axis entirely, I figured she could use the little breather as well.

I took care of the condom, ran some ice-cold water over the top of my head, and splashed my face. I looked the same when I gazed at myself in the mirror … same eyes, same face, same piercings, same ink … but something felt different.

I dropped the rest of my clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor after I shucked off my Vans. I picked it all up and trucked back to the bedroom. She was where I left her, sitting in the center of the bed playing with the ends of her hair. Jesus, she was going to kill me. She had also plugged her phone into the dock on her nightstand and the Kills were filling the room with moody rock and roll.

“It’s a dragon.”

I forgot I didn’t have a shirt on when I had walked into the bathroom. I turned around so my back was to her and she could see the entire thing. I heard her quick intake of breath and the covers rustle as she moved across the bed.

“It is. Phil did it for me. We started the day I turned eighteen and finished it the day I turned twenty-one. It took over six hundred hours in the chair.”

A lot of people had dragon tattoos. No one had a dragon tattoo like mine. It was done in a traditional Japanese style. The colors were all screaming hues of bold reds, greens, yellows, and golds all over my skin. The tail started on the top of my foot, it wound all the way around my calf, covered my thigh, took up one entire butt cheek, the body twisted and turned across my spine until it reached my shoulder, where the fierce head was always watching me, the wings flared out, completely covered my sides, ran all along my ribs, and ended right next to my dick, the talons were gripping each shoulder in fierce, clutching hands, and the fire it was breathing rolled over my collarbone on each side and danced up the back of my neck until it forked off and marked each side of my head over my ears.

It was massive, had enough detail that it looked like it was going to fly away with me in its sharp claws at any second, and I knew enough about my chosen career field, the skill level involved in the piece, that the reason it was so spectacular was because Phil cared about me. I was more than his protégé, more than his kid, I was his walking, talking legacy of an art form he had simply loved and honed over the years. My dragon was his Mona Lisa.

“It’s so beautiful.” Her hands lightly stroked over my spine, and up along the ridges of my shoulders. “It’s so much more than just a tattoo.”

Something lodged in my throat at the fact she understood that without being in the industry or me having to explain it to her.

“I was pretty messed up when I was younger. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I did a bunch of dumb shit. Got arrested spray-painting a bridge, got into a brawl at one of Jet’s shows and sent some kid to the ICU, tattooed a bunch of dumb, pointless crap all over my body. Phil saw I was spiraling, tried to get me to stop it. He called me out and told me straight up I was acting like a toddler looking for attention from his mommy, which is exactly what I was doing.”

I sighed as her hands trailed over the wings and skated lower across my ass. She was petting the dragon, but it felt like she was trying to soothe me as well.

“He told me he would teach me how to do what he did. Tattooing always seemed like a cool thing to me, and when he offered to show me and Rule what art was really about and how to put all our feelings of being cast out to creative use, it was what stopped my free fall.”

I shook my head at the memory and gave a wan grin. I had to grit my teeth because her soft hands had found their way to the front of me and there was only one place they could stop.

“One bargain I had to make with him in order to apprentice was no more shitty tattoo work. Phil wouldn’t tolerate it if I was going to represent him and his shop. He told me I had to agree to let him and only him tattoo me until the apprenticeship was up. I agreed and he started the back part of the dragon that day. Of course as we went along he let Rule get his licks in on my skin as he got better, but pretty much only Phil got to pound on me with a needle for years. This was the result. He said I needed something strong, something that reminded me that people always had my back and would protect me from those that wanted to hurt me. He knew I had a rough time with my mom, so he was trying to make me feel less alone.”

My voice trailed off as her hands moved up my chest, across my collarbone, and to my head.

Her voice was quiet when she asked, “Why up here?”

“I was never going to be a cubicle kind of guy or a kindergarten teacher. I wanted something that really solidified the idea that I was doing my own thing and that my mom’s approval or lack thereof wasn’t something I needed to work on getting anymore. When you tattoo your head, or your face, even your neck and hands, it makes a statement. It clearly defines that this is a choice not a fashion accessory. I was pretty used to getting looked down on, getting torn up at home, so having strangers and the general public gape at my ink never bothered me. Plus it’s a great conversation starter. I get asked everywhere I go about it, so I just hand them a business card and tell them to swing by the shop. I can’t count how many new clients it’s gotten me. If I grow my hair out you can’t even tell it’s there, which is why the fire the dragon is breathing goes over my shoulders as well.”

“It’s amazing. Really beautiful.”

I turned around and put my arms around her. She was on her knees on the bed, so we were almost on the same level. I kissed her stunned mouth. She tasted like sex and mystery.

“So are you.”

She didn’t say anything and I saw her flush. She never said anything when I told her how attractive she was. Most chicks ate it up with a spoon, tried to play coy, but Saint just ignored it like I never spoke. I wasn’t sure what to do with that. I wasn’t trying to flatter her, to lure her to bed. I was just telling her the truth.

I brushed my thumb over the owl tattoo she had on her collarbone. She had another one on her hip where her underwear normally covered it, a small cross, and on her back right between her shoulder blades was a traditional Catholic saint depicted in all its detailed grandeur.

“These are all well done, and I can guess they have a lot of personal meaning behind them. I can always tell.”

She lifted an eyebrow and put her arms around my neck as I leaned over and took her back to the bed with me stretched out on top of her.

“How can you tell?”

“They’re in places no one can see but you. They aren’t flash designs off the wall, and even though they are all pretty tiny they have a lot of detail.” A tiny smile flirted with her mouth. “The owl is for wisdom, I bet; the saint, your name?”

She shook her head, and the way we pressed against each other I could feel her body start to soften and melt into the pressure of my much bigger frame. I liked the way my dark skin contrasted so vividly against her much paler skin tone.

“Saint Agnes, patron saint of nurses. My sister is Faith, so that’s the cross, and the owl …” She ran her finger over the tip of my nose. “You got it. They don’t have anything on the stuff you’ve got, but I’ve always been happy with them.”

I worked a hand between the two of us and started to untie the knot at her waist. The lights were still on, so I wasn’t sure how far she was going to let me go before getting shy on me again. Hell, I was counting my blessings she hadn’t kicked me out the front door after the first ten minutes were up.

“Body art isn’t a contest. The only person that has to like it is the person stuck with it for the rest of their life. As long as you love it when you see it, that’s all that matters.”