Page 22 of Brother's Keeper

I’d also been told I narrowly dodged long-term nerve damage and risked losing my hand entirely or dying of traumatic blood loss.

Nash gingerly placed my hand on his chest while silence swelled between us. My answers didn’t satisfy him, but pressing the issue would turn a nice moment into a fight, and neither of us wanted that.

The houseboat shifted and swayed with the water that lapped against the hull, and suddenly that gentle rock seemed to slow. Beams of afternoon sun cast golden ribbons across everything, but I noticed them most on Nash’s face. He wore a soft smile and the dimples that were almost hidden by his beard. With the light warming everything red and gold and gorgeous about him, I thought I might melt.

Neither of us spoke while I stared, studying features I knew well but didn’t always appreciate.

The quiet lingered long enough for Nash to ask, “What’s on your mind, Trouble?”

It was a welcome invitation to change the subject, and one I didn’t hesitate to accept. “Ripley says you talk about me.”

Surprise widened his eyes, then they slowly softened. “A bit,” he confessed.

“A lot.” Moving my good hand to his shirt collar, I started thumbing the buttons through their holes.

“Okay. A lot.” His smile betrayed the slightest hint of embarrassment.

I nuzzled into the exposed hollow of his throat where his body heat warmed my face. “What kinds of things do you say?” I murmured.

“Someone’s fishing for compliments.” Nash leaned his head all the way back, inviting me in.

“Or harsh truths.” I dragged my tongue past his Adam’s apple. “You could’ve told him I take too long in the bathroom, or snore, or some shit.”

Pushing his shirt open, I smoothed my hand over the subtle dips and curves of his torso. Softly defined abs led down to the thin trail of hair that disappeared below his belt line. I kept touching, tempting us both until Nash gripped my hips and pulled me forward.

“I told him…” He paused, and I sat back on his thighs, watching the theater of his face. “That I can’t get enough of you. I think about you when I’m alone at night.”

Grinning, I shimmied against him, feeling his erection pressing into my crotch.

His smile returned as he continued. “I remember what you feel like in bed with me. Beside me. Beneath me…”

My stomach flipped, and I turned away from his gaze. The once cozy warmth had become hot, and sweat trickled down my spine.

Nash drew me in, pressing his chest against mine. His breath rushed across my ear as he whispered, “I may have also mentioned that waking up beside you was the best part of my day.” He placed a kiss on my cheekbefore I shoved him away, laughing.

“Gross.”

“Gross?” he echoed, incredulous. “How is that gross?”

I sat straight and spread my hands in the air in a dramatic pantomime. “I can picture it now. Poor Rip trying to drink in peace while you’re laying it on thick with the mushy bullshit.”

Nash’s brows drew together.

“You’d better cut it out,” I teased. “You can’t afford to lose any more customers.”

Behind me, the door opened, flooding the space with blinding sun. I felt like a vampire shrinking away as Donovan burst in.

“Fitch!” he blurted, then seemed to register the scene he’d walked in on. “Oh hey, Nash.”

“Hi, Donnie,” came the chuckled reply.

Grumbling, I rolled off Nash’s lap and reached down to adjust myself. “Does a sock on the doorknob mean nothing to you?”

Donovan’s dark hair was windblown and his cheeks were flushed pink. “I need you to come out here,” he said breathlessly. “It’s important.” Typical of him to give me shit for days then expect me to drop everything and jump the moment he asked.

“Thisis also important.” My gesture to Nash’s bare chest sparked pain in my bandaged arm. I fought a grimace.

Donovan sighed loudly. “Would you just come outside?”

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