Page 63 of Nash

“Nothing is ever truly secure. It’s just degrees of safety you try to control.”

“Well, I can control a golf game better than any of you could, and you know it’s a good idea. I can be the ultimate distraction.” I bat my lashes. “Imagine the sexy little golf dress I can wear.”

Whoops! I pushed too far.

The beast roars, “Home! Now!”

If Nash could take me by the hair like a caveman and drag me home, he would. Not that I’d let him, but I appreciate the instinct. He wants to hide me away so no one can hurt me.

Too late.

Ironically, the more I’m around Nash and his menacing men, the less I’m afraid.

After he aims his gun, clearing my apartment, he slams the door behind us. Three times, he flips the locks, securing them. Then he pushes the loveseat in front of it before he takes a seat and ponders the gun in his hand.

I flop down, sitting on the edge of my bed, and wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

“Wow, you really never shut up, do you?”

“You really have no idea what you’re asking to do,” he answers.

“I’m not asking; I’m telling you, I’m playing in that tournament. That man traffics girls and women, and probably boys, too, and hurts them in the most horrific ways. So long before you and your Bratva beasts get a hold of him, I just might take my 9-iron to his skull and yell, ‘Fore,’ before I smash it open.”

I catch it; Nash tries not to smile. I grab my phone on my nightstand and start tapping.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m putting the tournament on my calendar, along with the days we’re going to fight about it and the days we’ll get kinky and make up. It’s what we do, and who wants a scheduling conflict?”

“Thisis a conflict,” he barks, “and it’s one you won’t win.”

“Oh, come on,” I coax. “You gotta admit that you like it. It kind of turns you on; me and you working together.”

He licks his bottom lip.

“You kind of like that I’m not afraid,” I add. “I’m not intimidated by you or your men. I know I can trust them. Yeah, that Axel one can be a royal dickhead, but I adore Jace and Grant, and I think that Sire dude is right. Test me and see if I want to join you.”

Tensely, he sets his gun down on the loveseat. Glaring at me, he draws several deep breaths before he reaches down, adjusting himself, making a salacious shiver whip through me.He’s getting hard.

He rises like a threat, and I’m thrilled.

“You want me to test you, Vale?” He jeers, “Do you want me to show you what we do if you’re mine?”

“Yes,” I sigh because I have a very taboo idea of what they do, how they bond, and how I will come to sit on one of their queen’s chairs.

Nash stalks my way, ripping his shirt over his head, tossing it aside as my teeth catch my bottom lip. He makes fast work of losing his shoes, pants, and boxers. He’s huge and raging hard, muscles and ink everywhere, and my body ignites.

Standing by the edge of my bed, just feet away, he demands, “Lift your skirt, pull your panties aside, and show me what you want me to test.”

I obey.

“I’m clear,” his voice strains, “but do you want me to use a condom?”

“No. I’m clear and protected, too.” And I’m already wet with his command, and the naughty display I’m giving him, tugging my panties aside and showing him my pussy only makes me slick even more.

He stares like a starving animal at my exposed sex, so I clench it for him. I have Kegel’s that can crack rocks. I practice with my yoni eggs and his eyelids hood, watching how I can make my pussy pulse for him. Around him. It stirs his cock, soaring thick and veiny, a pearly drop leaking at the sight.

“Take them off,” he demands about my panties, “and give them to me.”

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