Page 53 of Her Dark Angel

I bite back a snort as I fold my arms over my chest. “Oh, I would love to hear this story. Let me guess, someone provoked you, once again, and you had to defend yourself like every other time?”

Nash rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he leans back on the stool, his two-toned eyes darkening as they regard me from across the island. “I know you hate to be wrong, little devil, but you’re way off in your analysis.”

“Enlighten me then,” I retort. I’m not in the mood to play games with him, especially not after I just bailed his ass out of jail not even thirty minutes ago. “Please tell me, oh-mighty Nash Beck, how you getting thrown in jail was not your fault. You love to blame everyone else for your wrongdoings, so tell me how this time is any different.”

“You’re so fucking infuriating,” Nash says through gritted teeth, his hand tightening around the stem of the wine glass.

“And so are you,” I snap. I had every intention of approaching this conversation with caution, but now I don’t give a fuck about treating Nash like he’s a fragile vase that could break at any second. “You never want to take accountability for anything you do and it’s getting on my fucking nerves. I bailed your ass out today, so the least you can do is give me the truth as to why you were in there again.”

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Nash launches off the stool and rounds the island in the blink of an eye. My feet instinctually retreat until I’m backed against the counter behind me and Nash’s body presses against mine, digging my lower back into the edge unforgivingly. His hands slam down on the counter beside me, his silver rings scraping against the white countertop as his thick arms cage me in. Nash’s chest heaves as he peers down at me. The same fire in his eyes I witnessed earlier at the station has returned, nearly knocking the breath from my lungs.

“Nash, what are you?—”

“It was because of you, little devil.”

His words make my eyes widen in surprise. Did he just say what I think he said?

I swallow thickly. “W-what do you mean?”

Nash’s face is now inches from mine, his breath fanning against my chapped lips as his eyes bore into mine, holding me hostage. Not that I could move anyway with his six-foot-four mass keeping me trapped against the counter.

“I went in search of someone’s ass to beat because I couldn’t get your fucking face and sweet voice out of my goddamn head,” he hisses. His grip on the counter tightens. “Why did you have to fucking kiss me like that, little devil. Why? It messed with my fucking head.”

I’m reminded of Nash’s near panic attack last night in the car and how he struggled to breathe—his eyes filled with a pain I have only seen in mine when looking in the mirror every morning. I thought I had done the right thing by returning the favor after he helped stop my panic attack before walking the red carpet at the award show.

Why would it affect him so much that he sought someone to lay his hands on?

“I was only trying to help,” I respond meekly. When staring down the nose of a predator, I know I shouldn’t provoke it. That would be stupid. Instead, I use the calmest voice I can muster despite the tremor in my words. “You were having a panic attack, so I wanted to—I didn’t mean to upset you, Nash.”

“You didn’t upset me,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, skimming over the metal pierced into his skin. “I was fucking angry. Angry at you for kissing me. And angry at myself for enjoying it as much as I did.”

He enjoyed the kiss too? I thought I had imagined the tension between us in the car and how my body reacted to him. Knowing I wasn’t alone in that moment has my body tingling with a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.

No man before Nash has ever made me feel as alive as he does. What is it about him that has me gravitating toward him? Why can’t I seem to stay away? Instead, I find myself inching closer toward him.

With Nash peering down at me, his breath fanning across my lips, I feel… safe. I know it’s odd given the circumstances, but I can’t explain it any other way.

“Nash…” I breathe, my throat tight and my mind fuzzy. “Please…” I don’t know what I’m asking for, but I just need him to do something before my fucking head explodes or my body melts to a puddle at his feet.

Nash swallows hard as he stares down at me, his fingers drumming on the counter beside me. A battle rages behind his eyes as if he’s deciding whether or not he should take the next step.

Before I can utter another word, his right hand slides around the back of my neck, and I’m tugged forward until our lips collide. My brain explodes with bursts of color and shapes, and I all but melt against the counter as Nash’s tongue slips past my lips and expertly moves against mine.

I’m unable to move as he presses his hard chest against mine while continuing to hold my head hostage. Instinctually, my hands rise to tangle in his messy curls as faint cigarette smoke and whiskey coat my tongue. The strands are silkier than I thought.

A moan slips past my lips as Nash caresses my neck, his mouth catching the sound as his tongue continues to explore my mouth. My skin is on fire from where his fingers dig into my neck to hold me still and my core is tingling to the point I know my goddamn panties are soaked.

Nash presses his body harder into mine, and this time I feel something hard digging into my abdomen. It only makes my head spin faster and my need to touch him stronger. At this moment, I feel like I can’t get enough of the man devouring my mouth like we’re the only two people left on the planet.

Your lips are so soft, Kinnie. They feel nice against mine.

The voice is faint, but I hear it in the back of my mind. I screw my eyes tighter, forcing the voice from my mind by focusing on Nash’s woodsy cologne and how warm his body feels against mine.

I can’t let the demons win, not when I haven’t felt this way in a man's presence in far too long.

Nash releases my lips and I gasp at the loss of contact. My eyes snap open to see him staring back at me, his chest heaving, desperate for air. The tingling in my lips tells me they’re swollen, but I don’t care. Not right now, at least.

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