Page 88 of The Lilac River

"You're freezing."

"I'm fine," I lied, sighing like a moody teenager. “I should know.”

He chuckled, deep and rough, and narrowed an uncompromising gaze on me. Putting the coffee down, I took the towel and started to pat the ends of my hair.

"Good girl," he murmured, low and sinful. Reverberating through my whole body.

When our gazes locked, the world fell away.

Nash stepped closer, his knuckles brushing my jaw. "About the lilac river," he said, voice raw. "I swear, Lily. I never told her."

"I know," I whispered. I did. That had been ours and I knew he’d probably brushed it away like discarded rubbish when I left.

He took the towel, dropping it onto the table, and cupped my face in his rough hands, his thumb brushing a raindrop from my cheek. For a heartbeat, he simply stared at me, as if memorizing every line of my face. As if he didn’t know if this would be the last time.

Then we moved together, our mouths crashing, desperate and hungry.

It wasn't a kiss.

It was a homecoming.

It was a silent promise:I still love you. I never stopped.

The storm howled against the windows, but inside, in Nash’s arms, I finally, finally felt safe.

Chapter 33

Golden – Harry Styles

Lily

Nash’s hand slid to the back of my head, drawing me deeper into the kiss. I didn’t need his help—I was already desperate for him. My fingers dug into the hard muscle of his back as I tumbled headfirst into the abyss of him, of us. My skin blazed, every nerve ending sparking with every sweep of his tongue.

This kiss wasn’t like the one in the bar, bitter and angry. This was need and promise, euphoria roaring in my veins. Everything melted away until it was just us, Nash and me, devouring each other like the world was ending.

His hand gripped my ass, dragging me flush against him. He was as hard as rock behind his jeans, and I shivered with anticipation. Nash had been good when we were kids, but he was a man now. A man who moved with purpose, whose touch made me ache in ways I’d forgotten.

“Nash,” I whispered as his hand ghosted across my breast, sending tingles straight to my core.

“You taste better than I remember without the anger,” he ground out, gripping me harder.

He was everything I ever wanted, and if it weren’t for the wetness pooling between my thighs, the burn in my chest, I would’ve thought I was dreaming.

“I need to know something.” His deep voice was a rasp against my ear, mouth trailing fire along my neck.

“What?” I gasped, arching into him.

He cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Tell me why you left.”

The bottom dropped out of my world. His frown, the hard line of his jaw, it wasn’t lust anymore. It was a man demanding truth.

I froze. The weight of my mother’s life, of everything I’d protected, chained my tongue. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t.

“Don’t you dare lie to me again,” Nash ground out, his voice breaking. “Otherwise as much as it’ll kill me this won’t happen.”

His hands moved to cup my face as he studied me. “Tell me why you left.”

And just like that, every heightened sense tumbled back to earth and flatlined and tears burned behind my eyes. I shook my head. "I can't."

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