Page 38 of Make Your Play

Another huff escapes me, and Nash chuckles as I begin to walk up the stairs to the second floor. He’s right behind me, following me up each step. I glance at the room he’s been staying in, walking over to that one first as I push open the door. It looks exactly as it always does—his bed a mess like he just crawled out of it because he insists making it is a waste of time.

We walk out of his room and I push open my door, giving it a quick once-over without stepping into the room. Nothing looks any different. I turn around to look at him, glancing at the door for the nursery before looking back at him.

“Nash…”

Emotion consumes me, my throat constricting as I roll my lips between my teeth and swallow back the tears that threaten to flood my eyes.

“Open the door, Riley.”

My footsteps are light as I walk over to the nursery, my hand instantly finding the doorknob. I slowly turn it, my heart still in my chest as I hold my breath. I push the door open, lifting my hands to cover my mouth as tears blur my vision. Nash’s hand grazes against my lower back and he eases me into the room.

I step inside, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I look around, my eyes scanning the walls. I never told him the color I wanted to paint, but he’s clearly been paying attention to the different pictures I’ve shown him for inspiration. The walls are painted a soft gray-blue color with the far side a darker blue as an accent wall.

“You painted the nursery for me.”

“Do you like it?”

Emotion chokes me and I close the distance between us, my body crashing into his as I grab the sides of his face. I can’t stop myself as I lift up onto my toes, my lips finding his in an instant. “Yes,” I murmur against his lips, kissing him again. “I love it.”

“Good,” he breathes against my mouth before his lips begin to move with mine. I kiss him with the fire that’s been building and multiplying deep inside of me since the moment he decided to step in. Really, that fire sparked years and years ago, but only recently has it begun to burn as deeply as it has.

My feelings for Nash started when we were younger and they always felt forbidden, like something I couldn’t explore. Perhaps things are different now. Perhaps everything between us has changed. We’ve shifted into unknown territory. Friends don’t kiss friends the way he kisses me.

His legs move against mine as he turns my body, walking me backward until my back collides with the wall in the hallway. “I wanted to do this when I saw you this morning,” he murmurs against my lips as he lifts his hand to push the hair away from my face, stroking my jawline with his fingertips.

“Do what?” I ask him, my voice barely audible as I drop my hands down to his shoulders, fisting the material of his shirt as I hold on to him.

“Kiss you until you’re gasping for air.”

His lips move against my own, soft and gentle as he kisses me with an intensity that has warmth pooling in the pit of my stomach and my toes curling. He kisses me as if time ceases to exist—like it is ours for the taking. He’s attentive and tender, his tongue sweeping across mine, tangling and dancing together as he pins me against the wall.

My hands dig into his shoulders, holding on to him as I tilt my head back, granting him further access. Our surroundings fade away and the only thing that matters is him. He’s all I see, all I feel. Nash Simmons grounds me in more ways than one. He’s like an anchor—strong and steady, keeping me from drifting out to sea.

He kisses me slowly as if he’s trying to siphon my soul from my body. He doesn’t have to ask and he doesn’t have to try. I’ll gladly give him every piece of me; whatever he wants, it’s his.

Nash moves his lips from mine and my lungs scream for oxygen as my chest rises and falls in rapid succession. He pulls back, just enough to scan my face as he bites back a grin.

“Mission accomplished.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NASH

“How’s your ankle feeling?” Caleb asks me as he skates beside me at the end of practice. “Do you think you’re ready to get back into the game tomorrow?”

It’s been two weeks since my injury and even though I don’t feel back to one hundred percent, I’m close enough. I’ve spent enough time rehabbing it and missing games. We’re starting to get closer to playoffs and although we’re currently the number one seed, that can easily change. We still have plenty of games before playoffs start and it’s a hard position to maintain.

All it takes is some fucked-up games and not gaining points to set you back further.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, nodding as we reach the bench. “It’s still sore, but nothing I can’t play through. It’s definitely feeling better than it was.”

“Good,” Caleb says, his lips forming a straight line, never giving anything away, as usual. His brother skates up, along with Rowan, as practice has finished. “We need you back on the ice.”

“You’re coming back tomorrow, right?” Carson chimes in as we all head off the ice and back to the locker room. Lincoln meets us there, dropping down onto the bench next to me.

“Yeah, I’ve been cleared to come back if I feel like my ankle can tolerate it.”

“Well, try not to get hit again,” Lincoln says matter-of-factly, like it’s that fucking easy. He, of all people, should know things don’t work that way. The game moves so damn fast, you never know what is going to end up happening.

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