Page 89 of The Lilac River

Breathing heavily, we watched each other, wary and fearful of the words unsaid and the memories that had been brought to the surface. When I realized what my silence would mean, a shot of realism in my heart roused me from the what ifs.

I turned toward the door. “I can’t be here.”

"You can’t leave, Lila." He grabbed my wrist, desperation crackling off him. "The storm’s wild. You’ve got no car. Just tell me the damn truth."

Yanking free, I ran.

“Lily, no. Get back here.”

I kept on running.

Rain lashed my face as I tore across the porch, down the steps, into the storm. The dress clung to my body, freezing me instantly. But I didn’t stop.

"Lily, get back here!" Nash roared behind me. "You left your purse! Lily!"

I ran harder. But I never stood a chance.

He caught me just as I hit the edge of the lavender field, grabbing my arm and spinning me into his chest.

“You’re crazy,” he growled in my ear. “What the hell are you doing?”

"I can't do this!" I sobbed. “I can’t be near you!”

His arm locked around my waist. Rain streamed over us.

“You think I want this?” His voice broke. “To stand here knowing there’s a lie between us?”

"Let me go," I whispered, trembling.

He did. I staggered, bolting again but he caught me easily, spinning me back, his eyes black with pain and want.

"Do you have any idea," he hissed, "how hard it is to hate someone and still want them?"

Thunder cracked as he slapped a hand to his chest. "You were always my ending, Lila."

"Nash—"

He kissed me, hard, bruising, and I opened for him without hesitation. The quiver of pleasure returned as Nash’s hands swept down my sides, resting on my hips. He dragged me closer with a powerful urgency, his fingers digging into me. He was rock hard behind his jeans and when I dropped my head back and moaned I swallowed rain and wind.

“I wish I could just forget you, Lila. I wish I could ignore the fact you lied.” He nipped at my neck, teeth scraping deliciously against my skin. “I’ve tried so damn hard.”

I moved my mouth back to his, pushing my hand up his shirt to trace the ridged muscles of his stomach. Ridges thatI’d dreamed of for ten years, that I’d remembered as if I had a picture of them. My memory had played tricks on me because they were so much better than I recalled. More defined. Harder. When I moved my other hand into the back of his jeans, there was no underwear, just hard, toned ass.

Nash stopped kissing me and stared, silently questioning. Asking if I wanted more. When I bobbed my head, big hands went to the front of my dress and gripping it pulled it open, sending buttons flying. Standing in front of him, my white underwear getting soaked by the weather, my hands moved to the button of his jeans. As Nash dropped his head to take my lace covered nipple into his mouth, I desperately fumbled with wet denim. The urgency, the hunger between us, was blinding.

“Leave it,” Nash snapped as I huffed with frustration. He grabbed my leg and pulled it up around his waist, and when his hand came to my ass he tapped it. “Get those damn legs around my waist.”

Without any question I did as he told me, wet with desire and throbbing between my thighs. As my legs tightened, Nash’s kiss became more urgent, and he strode towards the field of lavender. He walked us between the rows and then dropped to his knees, laying me back on the wet ground. With the aroma of heady lavender and rain filling the air, Nash looked down on me, reverence and desire staring back at me. Breathing heavily, I watched as his hands went to the button on his jeans. He flicked it open, his gaze never leaving mine, and then slowly lowered the zipper and then the jeans until his cock sprung out.

I’d forgotten how beautiful his cock was. Long and smooth, and hard as steel.

“Get rid of the panties,” he commanded.

He licked his lips as he watched me tentatively drag the white lace down my legs. The rain, the lavender, Nash watching me, his cock bobbing, it was seductive and intoxicating andmy arousal increased. When he pushed my knees apart and breathed in slowly, I already felt on the edge of an orgasm.

“No condoms,” he rasped.

“I don’t care,” I gasped. “I need you. I trust you.”

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