Page 15 of Captivating Nash

As their breathing slowed, Deanna began to wake, the dream fading, but the sensations lingered, leaving her body sated and her mind spinning with the intensity of the experience.

Deanna stirred, coming fully awake to the soft creaking ofTheReverieshifting in the gentle morning breeze. The air was cooler now, the remnants of the storm having swept through, leaving the island in a fragile peace. She lay still for a moment, the light filtering through the small porthole casting warm patterns across the sheets. Her body ached with exhaustion from the previous day’s events—the storm, the adrenaline, and the tension between her and Nash.

God, Nash.

The thought of him sent a ripple of emotions through her. She sat up, brushing her curls away from her face as she remembered the two versions of him that had emerged over the past twenty-four hours. Last night, he had been all command and focus, navigating through the storm with the precision and intensity of a SEAL his instincts impossible to ignore. But the man she had met in London? The one who had captivated her so effortlessly with his laid-back charm, his roguish grin, and his teasing dominance?

She couldn’t reconcile them. Was he the pirate she’d flirted with, or the hardened SEAL who kept everyone at arm’s length?

The smell of salt and fresh morning air wafted through the cabin, reminding her that they were anchored off the coast of an island and not out of the woods yet. She needed to clear her head. Throwing on a lightweight sweater and shorts, she padded barefoot into the galley, her movements slow and thoughtful. The galley was a chef’s dream, and she wondered idly if Nash could cook or if he hired someone when he was doing a charter.

Deanna decided to start breakfast. Maybe a simple meal would cut through some of the tension still clinging between her and Nash. She busied herself with making scrambled eggs, slicing some fruit, and brewing two mugs of coffee. As the coffee brewed, the aroma filled the cabin, and she found herself smiling slightly—maybe it would help bring back that elusive, relaxed version of Nash.

Once everything was ready, she balanced the plates and mugs on a tray and made her way up the narrow steps to the deck. The moment she stepped outside, she felt it.

The tension.

Nash stood at the helm, his entire posture rigid, the relaxed nonchalance he sometimes carried gone. He was alert, scanning the shore with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of Deanna’s neck stand up. She stopped in her tracks for a moment, watching him. He looked different—his body was still, but everything about him screamed alertness. His military bearing was unmistakable now, a stark reminder of the life he had lived before this one. His face was set, jaw clenched, and his sharp eyes darted across the landscape like a predator hunting for signs of danger.

Gone was the man who had shared that brief, fiery night with her in London. Gone was the casual, confident charmer who had flirted with her on their first encounter. This was Nash Maddox, the SEAL.

She swallowed, feeling a strange pull in her chest—something between fascination and apprehension. The man before her was a protector, but there was an edge to him that felt like he could spring into action at any moment. It was hard to reconcile this version of Nash with the one she had known before. He was both. Both the man she had trusted with her body in that fleeting one night and the one who seemed to hold the world at arm's length, ready to fight it if necessary.

“Nash,” she called softly, carrying the tray toward him.

He turned, his eyes softening ever so slightly when he saw her, but the alertness didn’t leave him. He was still scanning the horizon even as he spoke to her. “Morning.”

She offered him the mug of coffee and one of the plates, giving him a small smile despite the obvious tension hanging between them. “I thought you could use something to eat. It looks like you didn’t sleep much.”

Nash took the mug gratefully, his fingers brushing against hers in a moment of warmth. His face eased just enough for her to see the hint of gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks. I needed this.”

Deanna placed the tray down on a small table near the helm and took a seat across from him, watching as he downed the coffee with a kind of focus that matched everything else he did. She studied him quietly for a moment, wrestling with the mixture of feelings swirling inside her. The way he held himself now—the rigid control, the constant alertness—was such a contrast to the man she had first met, the man who had felt like an enigma wrapped in charm and heat. She had known, of course, that there was more to him. She just hadn’t realized how much more.

“This is good,” Nash said, breaking the silence as he forked a piece of scrambled egg into his mouth. His eyes met hers briefly, and for a fleeting second, there was the smallest hint of that playful grin she had seen before. But then it was gone, replaced by something harder, more serious.

“Everything okay?” Deanna asked carefully, her voice soft but probing. “You seem… tense.”

Nash didn’t answer right away. He finished his food, set the plate down, and wiped his hands on a nearby cloth. Then he turned to face her fully, his body still taut with the kind of energy that could snap into action at a moment’s notice.

“The signs I saw on the beach last night,” Nash said, his tone low, almost conversational, but there was an edge beneath the words. “Someone else has been here on this island, and not too long ago. I’m not convinced they aren’t still here.”

Deanna’s stomach tightened. “And you think they could be watching us?”

“Could be,” Nash admitted, his eyes scanning the shoreline again. “But I’m not taking any chances. Whoever they are, I want to know what we’re dealing with before we set sail again.”

She could see it in him—the way his mind was working, already planning, calculating the risks. It was the same way he had moved through the storm last night: focused, methodical. But there was something different in how he spoke to her now. He was sharing the information with her, not just barking orders. It felt like… respect. Like he understood she could handle it.

“What do you think we should do?” Deanna asked, folding her arms as the breeze picked up around them.

Nash hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then he leaned closer, resting one hand on the helm, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

“We do a little recon before we leave. Check out the island, see if there’s anything we need to worry about.” His voice was steady, but there was something else there—something unspoken. “We’ll move quietly. In and out.”

Deanna nodded, trying to match his calm. She wasn’t any kind of a SEAL, but she trusted him. More than she probably should. “Okay. When do we go?”

Nash gave her a half-smile, one that was both reassuring and maddeningly confident. “As soon as you’re ready.”

Deanna stood, her nerves humming with a mix of fear and anticipation. She wasn’t sure what lay ahead, but one thing was clear: Nash Maddox wasn’t just protecting her. He was pulling her into his world—whether she was ready for it or not.

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