Page 99 of Nash

“No.” She blinks, pausing way too long before answering softly, “Give it back to me.”

“What?” I ask tenderly.

I’m confused.

“My kiss.” She lifts her lips to mine. “Give it back to me, Nash. Only you can.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

VALE

“Are you sure?”

I’ve never heard Nash sound so soft, and I’ve never been so brutally shocked.

He killed my rapist.

A rapist.

If I should feel guilt over it, I can’t. If I should be repulsed, I’m not. If I should be afraid of Nash? Never.

I’m in love with him.

“Yes,” I sigh. “I’ve never been so sure in my life.”

“Before I kiss you, Vale,” he searches my crying eyes, “you need to know something.”

“Please,” I stammer, “no more surprises.”

Tenderly, he smiles, his lips brushing mine. “Is it a surprise that I love you? I love you, and I mean it—I’m never letting you go again. You’re mine. I’ll givemylife for you, too.”

A happy sob escapes before I smile. “Please don’t because I love you, too.” The emotions strangling my throat release with my plea, “Don’teverlet me go, Nash. I’ve always belonged to you.”

Those words lift a thousand pounds off my chest, my heart lighter and beating fast as Nash slowly presses his lips to mine. They’re supple and seeking, his beard soft, his touch warm, and making me stifle another sob because…

… I don’t flinch with him.

I don’t pull away.

I want this. I want him.

He holds my cheeks, fusing his lips to mine, and I melt into his kiss, parting my lips to let his tongue sweetly seek mine. The way he does it, lightly laving and licking, is how he’s lavished me everywhere else, and my body trusts him. I respond. The heat of our kiss slowly exploring sends warm ripples of desire from my fingertips to my core. Love floods my heart, joining the sensuous dance of our mouths, and I can’t help it.

I’m free.

I cry.

“Vale,” he lifts away, “do you want me to?—”

“Don’t stop,” I insist.

“But you’re crying.”

“They’re happy tears. I like kissing you.”

He gets that look. That sexy one I love to resist because I can’t. “Do you like it or do you love it?” He smirks. “Like me?”

“I love it.” I sink my hands into his wet hair, grinning. “Like I loveyou.” I tug at his strands, yanking him into another kiss—a hot and hungry one.

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