Nash (Marked Men #4)(41)

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 ass**le 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.