Page 54 of Looking Grimm

By the time he finished speaking, I had run out of tears. I stayed tucked with my face pressed against his shoulder while I drew wavering breaths. I couldn’t comprehend everything he said and hesitated to believe it, but I wanted to.

His response to my confessions shouldn’t have been a surprise. I’d sat across the bar from him and admitted to as much and worse over the years. He never blamed me, never turned me away, and never left. He poured me another drink and nodded along. I’d thought he was just doing his job but, looking back, there was far more to it than that.

He paid attention to me. Genuinely listened to whatever shit talk, drunken ramblings, or corny pickup lines tumbled out of my mouth. He stood up to Grimm for me, and thatmight have been the bravest thing I’d ever seen anyone do. I wanted to protect him because he protected me. And maybe, just maybe, I could do a better job of that by staying alive.

I was ready to go inside—to leave this place what I’d planned to do here—but a bit of unfinished business nagged at me.

Pushing back from Nash, I wiped my face on the scrubby sleeve of his coat and muttered, “About the dead guy in my car…”

He nodded without waiting for me to finish. “I have a plan for that.”

We threw Ezrah’s bodyoff the bluffs.

He disappeared the way I’d intended to, sucked down into the inky dark. The sight stuck with me while Nash and I trudged back to the house, then upstairs to his bedroom.

We sat in his bed, separate at first, keeping distance while I struggled to put words to the thoughts fluttering around in my brain. I’d told him bits and pieces of what I’d been up to the past week, but it seemed only right to explain everything. He deserved honesty.

When I got to the part about Isha, detailing what she’d said, what I’d done, and how everything had gone horribly wrong, Nash dragged me onto his lap and held me while I sobbed. I clung on with my fists clenched so tightly that I put wrinkles in his shirt, and I cried so long and hard that his shoulder, where I pressed my face, was soaked through to his skin.

He stayed quiet the whole time, combing his fingers through my hair while his other arm wrapped snugly aroundme. After I ran out of things to say, he kissed my cheek.

“It’s gonna be all right,” he said. “You’re here now. To stay.”

I nodded, feeling wrung out but not quite numb as I mumbled into his chest, “Nash, I wanna be with you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “You’re with me, baby.”

“I mean I wanna be close to you.”

For the first time, it felt crude to say I wanted to fuck him, but I wasn’t about to call it making love.

Pulling back, he searched my face. I knew I looked a mess, but there wasn’t even a hint of disgust or judgment in his expression. Instead, he stared at me with his eyes soft and his mouth turned in a scarce smile.

“I want to be close to you, too,” he replied.

When he kissed me, I sighed and relaxed into him. His coat was still bundled around me, warm and comforting. His lips brushed along my jaw, then around the shell of my ear where he nipped with a tickling bite.

I squirmed then smiled, and Nash stopped to stare. He studied my face with such intense inspection that blush began to sting my cheeks.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said. “The prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

My nose wrinkled. “You say the weirdest shit sometimes.”

He shifted against the pile of pillows. One leg pinned beneath me while the other bent up against my side. “Can’t you just take the compliment?” he asked.

“I’m a criminal,” I said. “Tough guy. I’m not supposed to be pretty.”

Nash smirked. “Yeah well, it’s true. And I adore the starry look you get when I say it.” He unwrapped the coat from around me and slipped his hands inside, hooking his fingers into my hips and pulling. “Now come here, pretty boy.”

I groaned. “Nash…”

He drew me in and met my complaint with a hungry kiss. I shirked the coat and my shirt immediately after, then went for the buttons of his flannel.

With our bare chests exposed, I pressed hard into him. My erection tented my jeans, and every graze of Nash’s fingers felt like a static shock. I always wanted to rush things, especially sex, chasing the high of an orgasm before I even got my clothes off. But I wanted this togetherness to last. I wanted to be close to him as long as I could stand it. Maybe forever.

“You can take your time if you want.” I shrugged, feeling sheepish.

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