Behind me, Nash took a slow inhale. His lips touched a dressed wound on my shoulder, light and sweet; then he stepped away.
I was hooked on Orla. Every part of me. But I felt him move around the room, tracking his progress to the speaker mounted on the wall, more tension releasing from the devil’s hold inside me as easy, sexy soul music filtered into the air.
Orla’s body called to me.
I leaned down to kiss her, letting her drag me on top of her, and the heat between us spun out of control. A heartbeat that fissured into pain and loss and love, rising from the ashes as a wild thing that had me forgetting the limitations of my damaged body.
Had me forgetting everything except how much I wanted her.
Needed her.
Lovedher.
But she didn’t forget and our woman was strong. She put me on my back, one hand at my throat as the other skated lower, skipping over the mottled bruises still lingering beneath the ink, treating me to a wave of pleasure that arched my neck.
“What are you doing to me, queenie?”
Orla held my gaze. “Everything.”
The lights dimmed lower, the lamps giving way to candlelight that for once didn’t set my teeth on edge. Maybe because I’d left a molar behind in the depths of hell, and I’d spent the last week grinding the rest into dust, but whatever.
Nash.
He moved again and came to lie beside me, bare-chested in sweatpants, and he took my hand. He gave me thislook—the one I usually reserved for him when this madcap tornado between us spiralled to a new level.
We have you. We love you. Nothing has to happen.
And there was another message too. I saw it as he searched my face.You wanna just talk instead?
Yes.
No.
I mean, I did want to talk.
Hell, I needed to.
But right now, I just wanted to feel something other than detached despair.
I wanted to feelthem.
Him.
Her.
I needed it like I needed fuckin’ air.
Nash released me from his web of concern and shifted his gaze to Orla. She was still the only naked one, though my dick was trying to rectify that by drilling a hole in my boxers. Cos, you know, she was fuckin’ straddling me.
I squeezed Nash’s hand, a spontaneous reaction to the heady hit of reality. The last time I’d been in bed, I’d been alone, heart stammering for all the wrong reasons, cold sweat coating my skin as my mind played tricks on me.
Were these cats even real?
I reached for Orla to be sure.
She evaded with a wicked smirk, sliding down my body, taking what was left of my clothes along for the ride, her intentions clear.
I sat up fast, catching her shoulders. “You don’t have to do that.”