Page 3 of Nash

God, he knew how to kiss.

My lips are still tingling.

His hands had been delightfullyhandsyon my body, never once shying away from my curves. He held me suspended intime and space for those few blissful moments as all my fantasies came true and then some.

I’m not ashamed to say I’d thought about what it would be like to kiss Nash Stokehill more than once, but I’m not the only one. He’s a freaking rockstar in the NHL world with a bad boy vibe that he backs up with nothing but pure, sexual confidence. Add to it he’s gorgeous, with blond hair and crystal blue eyes I want to get lost in, and one might say he’s the perfect male specimen.

Almost.

Because the man drives me absolutely crazy. I used to have a fangirl level crush on him in my third year in college, but that was before I knew he liked to run through women like he did designer shirts. There isn’t anything wrong with that, of course, I’m just not built for that lifestyle. I like my men one at a time and exclusive, and even now, simply standing next to him at the bar is earning me death glares from the women who follow him around.

I could never get used to that, let alone handle it emotionally. Not that he’s asking me to.

It was just a kiss.

A ridiculously hot New Year’s Eve kiss.

“Another!” Monroe playfully smacks the top of the bar with her empty shot glass, wiping some of the stray liquor off her lips.

Pax watches her with an affable grin, and she shrugs.

“What?” she asks with a laugh as the bartender fills up our empties again. “You said you were driving.”

“I am,” Pax says, holding up his water.

“I’ll take a water too,” Nash says, leaning over the bar so close to me I feel his chest brush along my shoulder.

Damn him, it’s a nice, muscled chest too.

Ugh, if he didn’t find pleasure in arguing with me every other time we speak, I might forget I have rules and ask him to indulge me in one of his infamous one-night stands.

Whoa, no way. That must be the alcohol talking.

I cheers my friends again and throw back another shot, hissing at the afterburn.

My muscles loosen another fraction, even the voice in my mind going a bit giggly. But Monroe is right, we deserve to have a little fun.

“Will you take me home too, Pax?” I ask, giving him my bestpretty pleaselook. He waves me off immediately.

“You know I will, Reese,” Pax says at the same time Nash says, “I can take you home.”

I step back a little from the bar so I can face him, our tight-knit group forming a makeshift huddle at the bar. “Aren’t you drinking, Stokehill?”

Nash waves his water at me. “Nope,” he says. “But you can drink up. I’ll take care of you tonight.”

Shock radiates throughout my body alongside a heaping dose of lust as his kiss flashes to the forefront of my mind.

I don’t hate the sensation.

I glance at Blakely and Monroe, who both give me suggestive looks that send all three of us into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, this is going to be such a fun night,” Lawson says, practically beaming at Blakely.

“Yes!” I say with likely too much enthusiasm. “Oh, wait,” I continue, rifling through my clutch. “We must document.” I swipe open my phone, starting a video. “Look like you’re having more fun than any NHL team in history,” I say, panning the camera around.

My friends immediately answer the call of action, laughing and cheering. Monroe starts spitting out stats for Pax, explaining to the camera why he’s the best defensemen on theBadgers, and Blakely matches her passion with equal reasoning for Lawson being the best playmaker.

I do my best not to laugh or agree too loudly behind the camera, but assure myself I can edit out unwanted noises later.

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