Page 43 of Filthy Devil

Obviously, Tommy G has been talking, which is surprising because I assumed he was drunk most of the time and not coherent with the goings-on around him. Apparently, I was fucking wrong. He’s not only been coherent, but he’s been absorbing everything, too, and finding it appropriate to tell James.

“Sweetheart,” I murmur, reaching out for her.

I wrap my fingers around the front of her throat, and my gaze searches hers as I place my fingers at the exact places where she wears my light bruising. I’ve never been one to mark a woman I’m fucking, but James isn’t someone I’m just fucking.

She’s more than that.

She’s mine.

“Nobody is going to get hurt. I fucking promise that shit.”

James’s gaze searches mine, and I can see the hesitancy in her gaze. She doesn’t believe me, and I think it’s sweet she gives a shit that someone could get hurt, but we’ve had this conversation ad nauseam.

“This is what we do, sweetheart. It’ll be fine. I’ve already started making moves toward ending this all.”

“How?” she asks.

I smirk, leaning forward as my fingers grip her skin a bit firmer. “It doesn’t matter. Tommy G talks too much. I got this. Trust me?”

Her lips part, her eyes take in mine, and then she lets out a grunt. “I do.”

“Good. Now, let’s go upstairs, and you can show me how much you missed me today.”

Releasing her throat, I reach behind her and grab hold of her ass, squeezing her there—hard. She whimpers, her body leaning forward slightly, rising to her toes as her lips touch mine.

“I missed you a whole lot, Nash.”

I chuckle against her mouth. “Thank fuck I wasn’t the only one.”

Reaching down, I wrap my fingers around the backs of her thighs and pick her up off the floor. She wraps her legs around my hips. Her arms immediately circle my shoulders, and I hike her up for a better grip, then walk us straight toward my room.

I’m fucking hungry, and I need a drink after the day I’ve had. But food and booze will have to wait. I need an appetizer first. I feel like a fucking teenager. I’ve been away from James for mere hours, and I need my fix before I do anything else.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

JAMES

I’m notsure what it is, but something wakes me up. Sitting straight up in bed, my heart races against my chest, my eyes wild as I look around the dark room, trying to get my bearings. It takes me a moment to fully comprehend where I am.

Then I realize that I’m in bed, in Nash’s bed. Frowning, I look around and try to find the culprit or whatever woke me up, but I’m met with silence. I stay still, waiting for any sign of whatever it was to happen again, but it doesn’t.

Lying back down, I let out a sigh as Nash rolls over, slinging his arm across my stomach. “You good, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

I hum, tracing a tattoo on his shoulder. I don’t even know what it is, but there is just enough moonlight seeping in, and my eyes have adjusted so that I can make out the black lines on his skin.

“Something startled me, but I think it was just a dream or something,” I whisper.

He hums and pulls me closer, then touches his mouth to my collarbone before settling back down on the pillow. Closing my eyes, I will myself to fall back asleep. It really doesn’t matter if I sleep, though.

It’s not like I have anything pressing to do tomorrow. I can always take a nap in the middle of the day between my intense schedule of doing nothing and then doing more nothing.

“Nash,” I whisper into the darkness.

He grunts, his hand sliding up my side and curling around the top of my ribcage with a gentle squeeze to show me that he’s awake.

“I need something to do while I’m here.”

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