Page 49 of Wicked and Claimed

“I mean that I like good TV as much as the next person.” She shoved at him until he backed away. Then she vaulted off the bed, scrambling to find her clothes.

“Where are you going?” He rose from the sheets, his body so solid and beautiful, his cock standing at attention, pointing at her like a divining rod.

For months, she’d been telling herself that the way he wanted her constantly must mean something. He had to have some feelings for her, right? He’d even admitted he’d been faithful since they started hooking up.

But that wasn’t a declaration of love.

Feeling exposed, she grabbed her dress and held it over her nakedness. “What about you? Do you believe in love?”

“I never said I didn’t.”

What did that mean? Maybe nothing, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way.

“I think I should go.” Haisley grabbed up the rest of her things he’d strewn across the floor when he’d undressed her and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her.

With shaking hands, she tugged on her clothes, sniffling back tears that stubbornly insisted on leaking from her eyes.

He pounded on the door. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

But she wasn’t. Every time Haisley got around Nash these days, she felt emotional. She hated feeling so off balance.

It was another reason to put distance between them. In fact, maybe she ought to think about doing it for good because sooner or later, he was going to shatter her heart. And she wasn’t sure how—or if—she’d survive.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Present Day

After a hectic day, Nash was exhausted when he sat down with a cheeseburger near nine p.m. and opened the lid on his laptop.

The disappointment on Haisley’s face this morning had haunted him all day. His best read on her mood? While it was possible she’d awakened grumpy, she’d clearly been confused when he’d refused to engage with her beyond the professional. Did that maybe mean she missed him?

“You’re finally home, asshole?” Garrison padded barefooted and bare-chested into the kitchen, a discarded T-shirt slung over his inked shoulder.

“Hey, fuck face.”

“Aww, I love our pet names for each other. They’re almost romantic,” he quipped as he poured himself a glass of milk.

Nash rolled his eyes. “I’m eating here. Don’t make me hurl. I’d never want to be romantic with your hairy ass.”

“Same. So…do you know where your girl is tonight?”

That taunt made Nash freeze. “Haisley?”

“Who else?” Ethan quipped with an I-know-a-secret smile. “I ran into her less than an hour ago.”

If she’d been at Highrise flirting—or worse, sneaking around the mall—he’d spank her ass a spectacular shade of red. “And?”

Ethan chortled. “Listen to you, trying to play it cool. Dude, your face is telling me you’re desperately worried about what she’s up to…”

Nash tossed down his burger and stood. “Okay. Ha ha. You’ve had your laugh at my expense. You want me to tell you that woman drives me crazy? I admit it. She does. You got me. Now tell me where you saw her.”

“Chill, bro. I ran into Haisley at Matt and Madison’s. She stopped in to check on her bestie, who’s apparently having a real bitch of a time with morning sickness. She was worried.”

“Oh.” Nash sat again, relieved that he didn’t have to chase her down and have it out tonight. “Did she say anything about me?”

As soon as the words fell out, Nash wished he could bite them back. Fuck, that sounded so junior high. But he was out of restraint.

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