Page 14 of Nash

“That I have to take care of them,” he says, flashing Monroe an apologetic look. “Why do you think I’m in the gym almost twenty-four seven?”

“Recovery,” Monroe says. “You have to let those muscles recover or all the lifting is for nothing.”

Baylor sighs. “I'll try.”

“You better,” she says playfully. “We need you healthy. You’re essential to this team.”

Baylor beams at that. “That’s the truth,” he says, nudging Nash with his elbow. “You wouldn’t have scored without my assist.”

“Won’t deny that,” Nash says.

Eventually our group breaks up, people drawn this direction or that by other teammates and guests at the party. The night winds on, and I realize I’ve got a ton of great footage, but not enough of me and Nash.

I follow him into the living area where a makeshift dance floor is set up in a hangout area. “Do you mind if I try to get some more shots of us?” I whisper, pulling out my phone.

“Sure, what do you want me to do?”

“I don't know,” I say pulling up my camera. “Do whatever feels natural. Whatever you'd be doing if you were my boyfriend.”

He cocks a brow at me. “See, that's kind of a problem.”

My shoulders drop. “Why?”

“If you were my girl?” He shrugs. “My natural instinct would be to seduce you. Always,” he says, plain and simple.

And I admire his blunt honesty.

“Even if we were already in a relationship?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Especiallyif we're already in a relationship. Damn, what kind of relationships have you been in where the seduction stops after you've made things official?”

I wave him off, totally not wanting to open that bag of worms.

“Okay then,” I say. “Do what comes naturally.”

“Are you telling me to seduce you, Reese's Pieces?” His smirk is ridiculously enchanting.

“Sure,” I say. “What are you afraid of? You think I’m going to fall in love with you so easily? You've already kissed me, Stokehill, and I haven't asked you to marry me yet.”

He grins at me. “Yetbeing the optimal word,” he says, stepping a little closer to me, lowering his voice between us. “I told you, you’re the one who’s going to lead us when it comes to PDA, but if you want me to act natural, then my hands are going to be on you.”

Heat streaks through me at his words, at the promise in them, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

“I'm okay with that,” I manage to say, even though my heart is racing. “If we want this to work, we need to act like this is real. I’m comfortable with you,” I say, and his eyebrows raise. “I appreciate you checking in for the consent—it’s refreshing as hell—but I'm in this with you.”

“You're sure?”

“One hundred percent,” I say, and the certainty in that term turns on a little light bulb inside of me, alerting me to the fact that I trust him. At least enough that I'm giving him permission to touch me in public. That's a huge leap, but it makes sense. Despite our ridiculous, sometimes heated debates in the past, he’s never made me feel uncomfortable in a negative way. And after he took care of me on New Years’ Eve? How could I not trust him?

His usual effortless smirk turns downright mischievous as he takes my hand, the other one holding my phone as he backs up until his knees hit a chair and he falls into it, tugging me into his lap.

A surprised little whimper escapes my throat, but I do my best to act naturally as I settle myself on his lap.

And it's a really nice lap.

His thighs are wide and muscular, his legs long and his arms supportive around my body. He smells like a dream, and his face is a mere inch from mine, his eyes bright and charged.

My body reacts, an ache wrenching in my core as my need ramps up. I can blame it on the fact that it's been a long timesince my last intimate encounter, but there's something about Nash. It's the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing of interest in his world.

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