Her eyes closed, and a small pucker formed between her brows. Good. She was listening to me.

  “When you disappeared, I pretended I didn’t care because I knew if those little punks realized how much I needed you, they’d…” I pressed my lips closed. “That was my fear, residual from high school and courtesy of Lord Prescott, but it doesn’t matter. What you need to know is I was hurting. I thought you’d broken your promise to me. By the time I realized... I hurt us both, Aya. I cut myself so deeply I needed years to find my footing. If nothing else, can you believe that?”

  She remained still. After a long moment, she opened her eyes and studied me. Her gaze started at the top of my head and swept over my face—like one of those facial recognition scans—before returning to my eyes, holding them, searching. I held still, doing my best not to shut down. I desperately wanted to, though, because letting Aya in was the most vulnerable I think I’d ever been.

  I thought I’d given her my heart that day I’d first talked to her about Lev, and in a way, I had. But I hadn’t realized then how much trust I’d put in her, nor had I realized how careful she’d been with me. Not until I smashed us all to hell. But I was done being careful. I had to be. Now was the time for boldness, honesty, abandon.

  “I’m glad you didn’t drown… You’re pretty.”

  That vacation, when I was five, maybe six. That’s when I fell in love with Aya. My words had been simple but, she and I had clicked. And somehow, we’d reconnected in high school.

  Regret swamped me, making my throat tight and achy.

  Aya’s nostrils flared, and her eyes seemed to beg me for...something.

  “What, love?”

  That endearment suited Aya and her place in my life as my top priority. I wanted to smile, but she was still skittish, obviously hurting. I pressed my mouth flat instead.

  “I’m scared.”

  Her voice cracked, and my muscles tensed. I needed to soothe her.

  “Of what?” I asked.

  “You.”

  18

  Nash

  Her lower lip trembled so much that her teeth clattered. She heaved a breath. “That you’ll leave me.”

  Words tumbled out of her mouth, faster and faster, like rain spilling onto the eaves. “That you’ll realize what I’ve always known: I’m shy, a bookworm interested in making things, and you’re…you’re changing the world. Even before things fell apart, I worried you’d break up with me once you realized I don’t want to tour endlessly; that roots matter to me in a way they don’t to you because I never had a permanent home.”

  She stayed still under my hands, but she wasn’t passive. She was exerting her will in her own way—quietly, as Aya did most things. She let me touch her because she knew it grounded me in the moment, but when she’d said her piece, she would ease away. And if I hadn’t convinced her by then, she would walk. Because Aya was strong, stronger than me. She had an inner will that kept her from collapsing under the weight of her emotions—most of the time. I envied that inner strength. I always had. It was one of the traits that drew me to her, that caused me to love her, however incompletely, all those years ago.

  “If you break my heart, you’ll still be here, in this world,” she continued, her voice cracking. “But if you die... Jenna told me how close you were to overdosing. I can’t live in a world without you, Nash. That would be so much worse.” Her jaw trembled. “I’m not trying to force us to be together. I came back because I’ve missed Austin. It’s the last place I was happy.” She sucked in a harsh breath. “I wanted to come home.”

  I pressed my thumb to her lower lip, taking in her eyes, the slope of her cheek, her precious chin, those soft lips. I tried to speak, but had to clear the emotion from my throat. “I was happiest when you were here. I believe we could be happy again. I don’t want you to be afraid.” I sighed. “I need to tell you, I wasn’t fair to you before.”

  Her breath caressed my finger as her brows tugged lower.

  “Listen, I’m still learning as I go, but this is important. You were my foundation. My rock. Lev was dead, Brad was angry, and my mother was absent—she ran. Right when I needed her most.”

  Aya dropped her gaze, her face twisting. “You call him Brad now,” she observed.

  Ah, right. Another truth she didn’t know. I hated that I had secrets from her. “Because he’s not my father.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Can’t say that’s sad news.”

  I chuckled. “Me neither. Some of the best ever. Just…the timing sucked.”

  She sighed. “That night?”

  I nodded.

  “It was a terrible one,” she said.

  I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers. “I was caught in a situation I didn’t fully understand, caught between adults who should have supported me but either couldn’t or wouldn’t. That goes for Steve, too.”

  “Steve?” she asked, brows tugged together in confusion.

  “I’ll get there. For now, I just need you to understand that I didn’t plan to make you my lifeline, which, in turn, made me your anchor.”

  “That’s not true,” she burst out. “Why do you think I felt weighed down by you?”

  “I think you still do,” I told her. “You said it yourself: we don’t know what’s going to happen. None of us. I could die. So could you. Lev dove into the lake and never came out. But I promise you, I want to live. I want to be present. I won’t try to destroy myself ever again. Now matters a fuck-ton, because we have it. We have a chance to make it what we want it to be. I don’t want to squander that.”

  Her eyes widened, searching. Her need to feel secure, to feel loved, was palpable around us, melding with my same needs. But this time, Aya was asking me to be strong. That wasn’t my typical role. I knew how to lock myself down, and how to drink and medicate myself into an uncaring state. But standing up, taking charge—not a position I was used to.

  Nevertheless, I stood taller, squared my shoulders. For Aya, I’d do it. I’d be the man she craved, the man she deserved.

  I hadn’t been that before, and it had cost me years of my life that I’d never get back, never remember clearly. No way in hell was I going to let my fear, my weakness destroy more of either of our lives. We both deserved more.

  “We have now, and right now, I can tell you that I love you. I’ve loved you for years, pretty girl.”

  She chuffed as she pressed her cheek more firmly into my palm. Her eyes told me she’d felt our crazy connection from the beginning. We’d been changed by those early messages—both of us—and for the better, at least in my case. Amazing how the world could have spun a different way, but it didn’t. And I had to wonder why.

  I let the soft heat of her skin warm me, settle me.

  “You saved me,” I told her. “That’s not hyperbole. I was drifting when I sent you that first message. Nothing mattered. But you... You gave me hope, a reason to keep striving. And when I let fear overwhelm me…” I swallowed, my teeth clenched. “After you left, I faded back to that thing I was before, and I hated myself because I’d lost you.”

  I steadied myself, kept my gaze locked on hers. “I love you, Aya.”

  I let those words linger. I wanted her to feel them, as I did.

  “I love you with a passion I’ll never have for anyone else. I couldn’t; it’s you I see. It’s always been you, and it always will be.”

  I brushed her hair off her temple, a simple gesture of affection I’d made so many times before. But I’d lost the right for so long—to simply touch her. I smiled, even as the gravity of that settled over me. I thought again of all we’d lost. I rested my forehead against hers, my palm sliding down to capture her neck, tugging her even closer so our bodies touched from forehead to hips, all aligned. And it still wasn’t enough.

  “You’re literally my other half. I need you. Not just want, or crave, or desire, or...or whatever. I need you, Aya Jane Aldringham. I’m not talking about grounding or calming me—I need to tell you my secrets, my fears… I need you in my life. Always.”

  I breathed out the last word.

  She inhaled shakily, her eyes huge in her pale face. Tears wet her lashes. “With my mum, it was easy. We had a simple life in all the villages where we lived. I never had to struggle for a place, to understand the jockeying and backstabbing of this world. I’m not good at it. So I can’t do this with you if I’m also freaking out about whether there will be an us. You say we’re two halves of a whole. Well, when you run, when you hide behind others instead of staying, of talking, it chips away at me, and we can’t…” Tears dripped down her cheeks. She needed another breath to go one. “We can’t fit together. My heart can’t fit yours.” She shuddered with a great sob.

  I wrapped my arms around her, determined to do this. “We have now, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.”

  She huffed a laugh. “Are you going to tell me this is a tale spun by an idiot?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I am glad you caught the Macbeth reference.”

  “Because I made you read it.”

  I smiled.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead more firmly to mine.

  Her answer at this moment would change us.

  For better or worse.

  I hadn’t realized the weight of that.

  I was better with her. So much better. I could feel the weight of it creaking against my shoulders even now.

  “I’ll propose,” I blurted. I dropped to my knee, pulled her to sit on my raised thigh. “We’ll get married. We’ll build our life, one that no one can rip apart.”

  She opened her eyes, the purple irises stark against the red-rimmed lids.

  “You and I both lived through our parents’ failed attempts at marriage,” she said.

  “We aren’t our parents,” I said, desperation churning my guts. “Hasn’t that always been the point we’ve tried to prove? You’re not a fusty British peer, and I’m not a man led by my dick.” I winced.

  This proposal was shit.

  “You get what I’m saying. We’re not our parents. We’ve lived through their train wrecks and know what that feels like. We won’t get married without weighing the risks, but I know you’re worth every single one.”

  She settled on my raised knee and wrapped her arms around my neck. She pressed her lips to mine. They were cool, soft, salty from her tears.

  I wanted this kiss to spin out into forever. I wanted this to be my forever.

  She pulled back, her eyes filled with the shadows I’d helped create. “Nash…”

  I stared at her, my back slicked with sweat. But I waited. This had to be her choice. Even as much as I needed her, I knew I didn’t deserve this opportunity. I was selfish and I’d begged, but I wouldn’t force her.

  She deserved more than that. She deserved...everything.

  I hadn’t given her everything, even now. I cupped her jaw, tipped her chin, and kissed her. This time I didn’t hold back my confusion or pain, the fierce love, the deep affection. I put it all into that kiss. She pressed back, and I tasted anger and betrayal on her tongue. I shifted, softening, letting my body tell her I was sorry, so damn sorry for my teenage stupidity, for hurting her so much.

  She clasped her palms to my cheeks and accepted. She relaxed and let me make the same promises to her lips.

  She pulled back. “I’m pretty sure I still love you, Nash. You know that. So I’ll give you this chance to prove you mean it, but please.” She moved all the way out of my arms, wrapping hers around herself. “Please. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt yourself.”

  She rose, and I caught a glimpse of hurt in her eyes. “And don’t propose to me unless you know in your bones that you want to marry me—and you’ll be faithful forever.”

  Please join my mailing list to learn more about my newest releases, subscriber-only scenes (check out the one in the back of Deep in the Heart!), and excerpts that I send out weeks or months before a book launch.

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  This is not the end of Nash and Aya’s story. Keep reading in SULTRY OBLIVION.

  The boy I fell for was my superstar. Now, he's a rock legend.

  Their love turned into a media circus.

  When the paparazzi hounds Aya Aldringham’s and Nash Porter’s every move, their reconnection brings out the claws—not just from bloggers and fans but within Nash’s band. As Nash and Aya fight for the time to reconnect, they also must contend with jealous rivals and Aya’s debilitating fear of the limelight.

  Aya’s legacy may prove too much for Nash’s tentative ability to trust. Can their passionate love affair, one that’s playing out in the public eye, last?

  Ready to buy? Get SULTRY OBLIVION now.

  Need more? Then turn the page!

  19

  Sneak Peek of Sultry Oblivion

  “I’m exhausted,” Aya said, rising to her feet. “I’ll head to a hotel and—”

  “No, don’t.” Letting her out of my sight meant losing her. I clung to her hand. “Stay.”

  She blinked at me.

  “In the house, Ay. I have four bedrooms. Or you can have my room, and I’ll go to one of the others…”

  She shook her head. “No way am I staying in your room.”

  I frowned. “What’s wrong with my room? You’ve never even seen it.”

  She fidgeted and turned away, her cheeks flaming. “This was a mistake.”

  Anger washed over me. “What are you talking about? You’d throw what we could have away because of—”

  She whirled to face me, her eyes wide, wild, and wet. My anger dissipated as I realized just how close she was to losing control. Whatever went through her mind when I mentioned my room hit her hard.

  “I’ve had sex with one man in my life,” she snapped. “So you’ll have to forgive my disinterest in being one of your...thousands.” The last word dripped venom.

  “What about Alistair?” Vicious jealousy clawed at me. Before I registered the action, my fist plowed through the painting and wall next to me. Probably a good thing I split the canvas first because the drywall still cut into my skin.

  I heard Aya’s strangled gasp. But I stood with my back to her, chest heaving. I was losing her. “I’ve never had a woman in my bed. Here or anywhere else.”

  “N-never?”

  I yanked my hand from the wall, gritting my teeth against the throbbing in my knuckles. “Never. If it couldn’t be you…”

  I dropped my gaze to my feet. Bits of plaster dotted my feet. I frowned. I’d thought I’d bared my soul to her already. I knew other men had held her, kissed and caressed her.

  Fuck. I hated them. My hands clenched, but the ache radiating up my arm kept me from punching the wall again.

  “But our last time together…” She trailed off. “That was years ago.”

  “And as much as I hate that memory, I love it, too. Because I was with you.”

  I worried, belatedly, that I’d broken my hand. I ran my other hand down my face as I forced my feet to shuffle around. I faced her. “I freaked out after you told me you loved me,” I said. “Each time, I had these panic attacks even as I waited, desperate to hear you say it.”

  She kept her gaze trained on me. I moved toward the kitchen. Regardless of the extent of my hand’s injury, ice would help. I tugged a dishcloth from the drawer and threw it over my shoulder as I continued to the huge, glass-fronted freezer unit. I opened the door with my good hand and pulled out a bag of peas. After some finagling, I managed to wrap the peas in the towel and set it over my swollen hand.

  “Will you come in here? Sit at the table? I’ll get you some tea.”

  “I’ll get the tea,” she said, voice soft. “Ice, too, if you’ll let me.”

  She looked haggard, as if this night had gone on for years. Mascara streaked her cheeks, and her hair was a mess from my fingers.

  “I’ve got frozen veggies. They’ll work fine.”

  I moved around the space, giving her ample room as I collected mugs and the tin of British teas I’d bought—in case Aya ever visited.

  I couldn’t even muster a smile when I realized my dream had come true.

  “Nash, how could you not have… I saw you with that woman in your band.” Aya’s entire body tensed, and I wasn’t sure if she was rejecting my statement as a lie or working to reorient her belief about me.

  I pulled out a chair and leaned my head back against it as I sat. “You know what it was like with my parents. They weaponized sex. And my d—Brad liked to give those big, elaborate speeches about how much he loved my mother, how she was the shining light of his life…”

  I rolled my head in time to see her nod. Talking about my mom led to a sick oozing in my gut. Now wasn’t the time, not for that story.

  Aya remained intent, focused on me.

  “Even Cam had told me about his first wife, how she screwed around on him—can you imagine? So sex—if it couldn’t be with you—just wasn’t something I wanted. Plus I spent a lot of years too out of it to feel anything.”

  Aya nibbled on her lip, her beautiful violet eyes darkening. She heard me, but I wondered if I could make her understand.

  “I wasn’t in a place to offer myself to anyone else. I didn’t want to, because that had always turned out badly for me. I loved Lev. He died. I loved my mother; she left.” I closed my eyes as memories of our last conversation assaulted me. She’d been tearful and contrite, but I’d refused to budge.

  “She…she died, and…” I bit off the final words: it was my fault. I refocused on what Aya needed to know.

  “I loved Brad, and he turned on me.” I sighed. “And I loved you so much I couldn’t see straight. I hated being away from you, but there was this pattern, and I was sure you’d leave.”

  “If you let yourself love me,” Aya concluded.