Page 36 of Nash

“Rest here,” he says, “while I fill the tub.”

No man has ever considered ordering lavender-scented salts from a hotel spa and having them sent to our suite so he could fill my bath with them.

No man has ever neatly placed a plush robe, a pile of towels, and a shot of tequila by a tub for me, either.

“I read you shouldn’t drink alcohol,” he says before leaving me in our suite’s palatial spa bathroom, “but I know you like Casa Amigos and cheeseburgers. I’ll order some for our room service while you relax.”

Relax? No. I undress, then slowly ease my aching body into the soothing water while I drown in an even warmer feeling. It surrounds me, and I close my eyes.

I let a tear fall.

Yeah, no man has ever loved me, but I don’t need love if I have Nash.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

VALE

Neatly,Nash folds our dirty clothes, one piece at a time, before packing them into our duffels.

I grin, sitting on the bed, watching his ritual, and get busted.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

He raises a brow.

“By all means, move at a glacial pace,” I answer. “I’ll be a hundred by the time you’re done, and I don’t want to leave anyway.”

“We can’t stay forever.”

“I really hate that word—can’t.”

“It’s a contraction,” he corrects me.

“It’s a heartbreak,” I confess softly, and he nods, looking away.

It suffocates us; everything we can’t do.Didn’t do.

Four days of luxury have passed, and all the spa baths and Nash’s spoiling gave me the shortest period I’ve had in years. It’s gone, and physically I feel great. But now we have to go. So, emotionally, I’m a hot mess.

I wish we could stay in The Mercier Hotel forever. Here, I see how my sister lost her heart to a man. It’s a lavish escape from the world, and Nash has been perfect.

He watched movies with me. Although he hated my favorite horror flicks, he seemed content to sit beside me on the sofa. Probably because I wasn’t talking.

He ordered massages for us in our room. Facials, too. The way he scowled in a green mud mask? The Grinch would be upstaged. I laughed so hard. “Say ‘moisture.’” I tried to snap a pic of him, too, but he wouldn’t let me.

He slept in the king-sized bed with me because I asked. Every time I think of what could happen to me if I get taken by his enemy, I don’t want Nash to leave my side.

But we didn’t do anything. He didn’t make a move.

He can’t.

It was just brief touches. Heavy sighs. Tender laughs. Quick kisses to my hair. Ugh! It was so goddamn sweet and innocent; we were like teenage virgins wearing purity rings and not adults who wanted to fuck in a hot frenzy of need.

We check out, and Jace drives us back to my apartment, which now feels even smaller.

Nash makes my second favorite dinner: lasagna. At least he satisfies my stomach. The man can cook.

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