Page 65 of Tempting

“Nix . . .”

“Shh, beautiful. Relax and trust me,” He croons, and a flicker of a flame comes roaring back to life. My body already primed for more. How could I not be when Nixon plays me like I’m the most important game of his life. Only he could ever do this to me. For me...

I press my lips to his shoulder and bite down as he teases me. Circling the puckered hole while he pounds into me in the most delicious way. And when he finally pushes his finger inside me as he pulls me down over him, I scream out in pleasure and come violently while Nixon roars my fucking name as he pulses and empties inside me.

He lays me down, dragging his fingers though my sex, gathering our release and pushing it back inside me. It shouldn’t be hot as fuck, but with Nixon, everything is.

And hours later, after we’ve showered and fallen back in bed and back into each other’s arms, I trace his tattoo and whisper a truth that scares me more than any other. “You scare the shit out of me, Nixon.”

He presses his lips to the crown of my head and holds me close.

He doesn’t push for me. He waits and lets me find my words.

Words that hurt on a primal level.

“I don’t want to let you in, Nix. I don’t want to need you. I don’t want to love you. Because if I do... That kind of loss—that’s the kind that has the power to break a person, and I don’t think I could survive that again.”

“Your mom,” he whispers against my skin, and I nod, unable to form words as tears burn the backs of my eyes.

“Baby steps, Mackenzie. You’re here. That’s a start. Give me baby steps, and I’ll give you everything I have.”

I don’t look at him, because if I do, he’ll no doubt be able to see it all on my face. Every single thought. Every emotion. Every truth. And I already feel flayed open. I don’t think I could take that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Sleep, Mac. I’ll be here all night to keep your demons away.”

And the thing is, if anybody ever could, it would be him.

When I wake up the next morning, the bed is empty. Nixon is gone, and so is Gordie. There’s no mistaking that one because the English Bulldog puppy snores loud enough to drown out all of downtown Kroydon Hills.

Do they make CPAPs for dogs?

I get out of bed carefully, deliciously sore and throw on the Boston U shirt Nixon gave me last night and my discarded panties. Luckily, he didn’t rip these to shreds like he did my others. His condo mirrors mine, but it’s more lived-in. The bedroom furniture is minimalist and stylish, but it’s done with care, unlike my lack-of-furniture motif. Grays and blacks bleed into the en suite bathroom, where I help myself to his toothbrush, then fix my hair.

Hey... if he can use mine, I can use his.

I laugh at that thought and pad down the hall in search of coffee and stop, cursing myself for not considering that Leo would be here.

The younger Sinclair brother stands in the kitchen, shirtless and shoeless. A pair of jeans hangs from lean hips while he waits for the coffee pot to finish brewing with his arms crossed over his chest.

For a brief second, I think about tucking tail and darting back to the safety of Nixon’s room. That only lasts as long as it takes for Leo to laugh though.

“Might as well wait with me, Kenz. Pretty sure I heard you two going at it all night. You sounded very enthusiastic. You’ve gotta need the caffeine more than I do.”

I’ve known Leo since he was in fourth grade and would pick his nose and eat it.

Maybe that familiarity is why I do what I do next.

I pick up an apple, toss it in the air, and catch it with one hand. “Hey, Leo...”

He looks at me with a cocky grin.

“Catch.” Only instead of tossing the apple gently at his hands, I nail him in the nuts as hard as I can throw. “Now you need coffee and an ice pack. Sit down and shut the fuck up.”

Leo doubles over in pain, and I help myself to a pack of peas in their freezer and toss them to him too. They land on the floor with a thunk because he can’t bring himself to straighten out just yet.

I guide him over to one of the kitchen chairs and push him down into it, then hand him the peas and laugh when he flinches.

“What the actual fuck, Kenzie?” he groans, and I don’t bother hiding my smile.

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