Page 48 of Love Me, I Dare You

I rush to my feet, careful not to step with my injured foot, which luckily is my left foot. “I need to shower and get dressed…” Nash doesn’t stop me, though I don’t give him much of a chance, practically sprinting on one leg to the bathroom and slamming the door shut. I don’t lock it—a precaution in case I fall and crack my head against the tiled shower wall as I attempt to shower on one foot. No need to die just to prove a point.

I didn’t think through my plan of bolting out of the room, though I’m sure I’ll be able to manage on my own for the few minutes he takes to leave. Without undressing, I step into the shower and open the faucet, letting the frigid water cascade over me. The temperature is ice cold, but I can’t feel it. The heat inside me nearly evaporates the water as it hits my skin.

Leaning my head back against the shower wall, I don’t hold back the tears that spill out of my eyes as I recall how foolish I just felt as Nash stared at me with such pity. Just as he had in the dream I was having. In the memory of a near perfect night we spent together and how foolish I’d felt after he didn’t kiss me. How I wanted to leave, run away and pretend it never happened.

I was embarrassed, ashamed, and felt like a complete idiot. But when he wrapped his arms around me and asked me to stay, I couldn’t refuse. I could never refuse him. We’d stayed until the sun rose on the horizon, watching it cascade over thewater. My head resting on his bare chest as we lay on his shirt. If someone, my daddy, had found us in that position, well, let's just say someone would have ended up with a bullet in them and it wouldn’t have been me.

I panicked and jumped to my feet as we awakened and tried to immediately take off, but Nash didn’t let me. Not in that state of near undress. I begged him not to drive me or walk me back. That I would have an easier time sneaking back in if I were alone. It was only five in the morning. No one would be up until at least seven, but he didn’t let me leave without a parting gift.

His shirt. The one I kept all these years. The one he’d put on me last night. The one I was still wearing only now was stuck to my body like a second layer of skin.

Moments later, I hear Nash enter the bathroom, an immediate chill running down my spine. I can hear his footsteps, the soft tap against the marbled floors as he slowly approaches. I look up and find his eyes glued to mine from the moment he enters and they never once stray. There's a hint of remorse in them, but nothing compared to the burning desire that takes over as he looks from my head down to my feet and back up again.

Nash doesn’t speak. Not a damn sound leaves him as he pulls the curtain further open and steps inside the shower, the icy stream of water hitting him as he inches closer to me. The shower isn’t small by any means, but with Nash’s tall, muscular body hovering over me, we barely fit. He rests his forehead against mine and I close my eyes, unable to look directly at him, in fear of what I might do if I get lost in them again.

The earlier feelings of shame and embarrassment rushed me like a wild torrent crashing against me, drowning me, and making me feel helpless. But that all fades to pure, carnal desire as his rough palm snakes under my thigh, lifting my leg to wrap around him so that my injured ankle doesn’t touch the floor.I’m sure if he weren’t pressed up against me, holding me up, I wouldn’t be able to stand on my own.

Soft, heated lips trail up my neck, peppering kissing as they trace along my skin. From my chin to my check, until he uses his teeth to tug on the lobe of my ear. I whimper in his grasp, the sensation much more arousing than it should have been.

“Bailey,” he groans, and fuck does my name on his lips do some wild things to me.

“Mhmm,” I moan breathlessly, unable to form a simple sentence, but he doesn’t call me out. He’s just as equally desperate for whatever this is between us.

“I was a fucking idiot for not kissing you that night, B,” he whispers into my ear at the same time his fingers dig into my thigh. “I knew if I had, I’d never be able to stop.” My heart nearly stops at his words. I’d dreamt of this moment, waited ages to hear him say those words to me, but it never happened. Now that it has, it shouldn't still make the butterflies which have spent the last decade dormant in my stomach come to life. “But I won’t make the same mistake twice. Even if it’s the only chance I get Bailey King, I’m going to fucking kiss you.”

I want to argue, but Nash doesn’t give me a chance. Fierce lips come crashing down hard against mine and take with them every ounce of courage I have to fight back. Every argument, every curse I want to throw his way, vanishes with the caress of his lips on mine. It’s electrifying, enigmatic and all-consuming. More than I remember, all I want to know.

Though his kisses don’t render me completely helpless, no, I meet each one of his kisses just as hard, gasping for air as his tongue invades me and dances along with mine. Teeth clatter, hands squeeze and my body writhes against him, trying to find the least bit of friction it can manage.

I throw my arms around his neck and I moan into his mouth as his hand grips my ass, digging in so hard I’m sure he’s made me bleed.

“Nash,” I whimper against his lips, but he swallows whatever stupid thing I was about to complain about. Instead, he releases me for a second, just enough time to effortlessly take my shirt by the hem and tug it up and over my head, exposing my sensitive breasts and achingly hard nipples. I’m completely bare in front of him except for the thin red lace thong that does nothing to cover the arousal currently slicking it to my‌ pussy. “Aahh,” I groan as my back hits the cold tile.

“Fuck, Angel.” He exhales, shaking his head as he leans his forehead up against mine. Nash usually towers over me, but my feet are no longer touching the ground, both legs now wrapped around his. “You’re perfect.”

His eyes turn the darkest shade of blue, taking in my naked torso. I’ve never felt so aroused by just the mere gaze of a man. There hadn’t been many men over the years who could make me feel as desirable and wanted as I was currently feeling, but absolutely no one had ever made me wish I could.

Nash’s eyes continue to trail over my naked body. Only the small piece of red lace left between us, though that too is completely soaked and it isn’t because of the water. “How were you planning on showering on one leg, B?”

I’m panting, his hands keeping me in place as I try to grind myself against the hardening erection between his legs. “I was going to figure it out before you came barging in.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have to.”

Reaching for my bottle of shampoo, he squirts a decent amount into his hands, lathering it before his fingers tangle in my hair. “Nash, what are you…”

The question dies on my lips as he massages my scalp, gentle enough as to not tug on the ends too hard as his fingers coatevery strand. He shifts me so that my back is no longer against the wall, my legs still wrapped around his waist and my arms crossed behind his neck, holding onto him. Throwing my head back, I let the now slightly warmer water rinse off every bit of shampoo from my hair.

Though Nash doesn’t stop there. He reaches behind me and grabs a bottle of my body wash, bringing it to his nose and taking a sharp whiff of the thing before doing the same as he did with the shampoo and squirting it into his palms.

“Nash, you can’t…” I want to argue, trust me I do, but the moment he rubs the vanilla and citrus scented soap on my skin, starting off of course with my sensitive, swollen breasts I can’t remember what I was going to say.

Nash takes his time, rubbing the soap all over my chest, giving extra attention to my breasts as if it’s necessary. I’m not complaining, allowing him to take full advantage of them, and hoping he’ll do a lot more than just tease them. I reach for my loofa hanging on the shower caddy and hand it to him, but he shakes his head in refusal.

“No, I don’t want anything other than my fingers touching every inch of your skin. And maybe my tongue if you’re a good girl for me, Angel.”

Shifting us so my back is against the shower wall, he uses the cold tile as leverage to take my breasts in his palms, squeezing before tugging on my achingly hard nipple. “This right here. Fuck, I want these in my mouth.”

He’s not necessarily asking my permission, but I give him a slight nod. He immediately takes it, sucking my nipple into his mouth as he continues to knead with his hand.

---