Page 26 of Defending her Heart

I tilt my chin, not afraid of the smoke coming from his ears. If I did something to piss him off—which there’s no way I did—I want to know about it. I’m a talk-about-your-emotions kind of woman without getting too touchy feely. Because I’m not. Not an emotional person, but not afraid to talk about what’s pissing me off either.

“Yeah. What gives?” I cross my arms over my chest and return his glare.

He takes a few more breaths before he speaks. “What’s the deal between you and Miles?”

I blink back my confusion. “Me and Miles?” When he doesn’t elaborate, I shrug. “We’re friends.”

Nash grinds his molars and fists the bottom of my jersey in his hand. “Why his jersey?”

Is that...is that jealousy in his tone? If so, I think I like it. No man has ever been jealous of me before.

“Because it’s the only one I own.”

“Did he give it to you?”

I snort. “No. I bought it when he was first signed.”

“Why?”

Honesty is the best policy in my book. “Because I thought he was hot and I like wearing this jersey.”

“You think he’s...hot?”

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

His brows dip. “I have a different taste.”

“Yeah? What’s your taste?”

Even with the noise from the traffic on the street, I can hear his growl. With no warning, Nash grabs a fistful of my hair in each hand and drags me into his body, slamming his mouth over mine.

Too stunned at his move to respond, I stand there and breathe in his scent. Fresh spring soap and pine and more testosterone than I’ve ever smelled before. That delicious tongue of his touches my bottom lip and I open for him.

Nash isn’t a gentle kisser. He fucks my mouth with his tongue and I imagine what his cock would feel like in my pussy. As if reading my thoughts, he flattens me to the side of his car and presses said thick cock into my stomach.

He leans his head to the side for a better angle and deep throats me with his tongue before backing off and sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. I’ve never been kissed so thoroughly in my entire life.

He’s literally sucking the air out of me, and I’m not mad about it. He loosens his hold on my hair and massages my scalp. I moan into his mouth and he freezes. Our lips are sealed together, then, as if a switch is flipped, he steps back, leaving too much space between our bodies.

I’m gasping for air as I stare at his lips, wet and swollen from our heavy makeout session.

“Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that.” His hands are now in his hair and he’s back to clenching his back molars together.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why shouldn’t you have done that?” He’s a runner from conversation, from facing his problems, and I’m a bulldozer. I’m not letting him get away with not talking about this.

“Because you’re not mine.”

“I’m notanyone’s.I belong to myself. No one owns me, Nash. No one ever will.”

“Right. Instead you make yourself available to anyone who wants you.”

My cheeks burn, and this time it’s not from lust. “What the fuck did you just say?” He’s called me a slut once already. The apology was obviously not real and just to appease me so I’d bail him out.

There’s no forgiving him this time. The man is truly a fucking asshole and I couldn’t hate him any more.

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