Page 101 of Her Dark Angel

“Did you get it because I said Wisteria is my favorite plant?”

“Yeah.”

Oh, my fucking God.

I inhale a sharp breath, unable to speak. Despite the air conditioning blowing out a cool breeze, my skin is hot to the touch and my lungs begin to burn.

What the hell do I even say to that?

I have no words. None.

“Why?” is all I manage to choke out, breathing heavily.

Nash lifts a shoulder and tears his eyes away from the tattoo to meet mine. “I don’t know.” He licks his lips slowly, almost seductively. “I was drunk when I went into the shop after our last meeting with our managers. The guy asked me what I wanted done and the first thing I thought of was you. Something about you and that damn story about the stupid plant stuck with me enough that it was the first design that came to mind. So, I got it.”

All I can do is stare at him in awe. Awe that I was at the forefront of his mind. Awe that he would get a tattoo related to me. And awe that my childhood story stuck with him enough he would get it permanently inked into his skin—forever a reminder of me when we’re only in a temporary situation.

I can’t believe this man.

“I, uh…” My throat is so dry the words come out odd sounding. “I just… don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, little devil.” Nash shifts in the seat, resting his back partially against the side of the door. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to me, but you’re all I can think about. Whenever I want to have a drink or indulge in the drugs that have been my best companion since I was sixteen, all I hear in the back of my mind is your voice telling me not to do it. That I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. That I need to take care of myself because I only get one chance at life.”

Nash laughs humorlessly and runs a hand through the inky waves falling around his face. “And you want to know the worst part? I’m fucking listening to that voice and I don’t know why. Not all the time, but enough that it’s becoming a problem. And I don’t know what to do.” His eyes meet mine, an intense fire burning behind them as he holds me captive where I sit. “I don’t know what to do about you.”

All the air in the car seems to evaporate with the last of his words. My chest tightens painfully as I stare at Nash, unable to move or say anything.

Again, I’m at a loss of words for this man. How is it that he can be so intimidating and crude one minute, and then say all the right things the next?

It’s a head fuck, really. One that has my world tipping on its axis.

“Nash,” I breathe, my throat dry and scratchy.

He leans forward so suddenly my heart jumps into my throat. A woodsy scent mixed with nicotine consumes my senses as Nash invades my space, his eyes boring into mine.

“What are you doing to me, little devil?”

There is that same question again. What are you doing to me? The question should be: what are you doing to me?

The internal battle I’ve been fighting since the day I met Nash has been exhausting. The more I get to know him, the more he shows his true colors and the man he truly is. I’m finding it harder to view him as the arrogant, womanizing rockstar who gave me attitude the first night we met.

Now I’m starting to see him as a man who struggles with the demons from his past and has so much potential to be better, to do better, but is also constantly fighting to stay afloat.

The struggle between wanting to keep him at arm’s length to protect my heart by sticking to the guidelines of the contract we signed, and the need to feel the heat from his skin against mine merging with the fire he elicits within my soul is a daily battle.

The more I get to know Nash, the harder it is to stay away.

Realistically, could we make it as a couple? Would Nash be capable of letting me in and allowing me a glimpse of his past?

But then the question becomes: am I capable of letting him in on the details of my past?

If you had asked me ten weeks ago, the answer would be no. The thought alone of Nash knowing the details of my demons would be enough to send me into a panic attack. But now… the idea doesn’t scare me as much because, despite the darkness that consumes us both, if anyone were to understand me and the struggles I face each day, it would be him.

That’s never something I thought I would ever admit, but here I am.

“What are you doing to me?” I breathe, my chest heaving with each sharp inhale. The air in my lungs is cold despite the heat burning across my skin.

Nash’s jaw ticks as he gazes longingly at me. The fire burning in his mismatched eyes reflects the wildfire raging throughout my body, burning for him. Longing for him.

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