I scooted back on his lap, toward his knees, making sure to grind down hard as I shifted. Nash’s eyes flared wide, those storms turning hazy. My hands slid down his pecs, flattening over those impossible abdominals to his tight hips. I grasped the edges of his T-shirt and yanked the material over his head. He sputtered, spitting out the cotton that must have gotten caught in his mouth.

  I giggled even as I leaned forward, my lips taking the same path my hands had moments before. Once I reached his navel, I slid to the floor and moved my hands to the button of his jeans.

  But then came his voice. “Ah, ah, ah, love. I have some unfinished business.”

  He scooped me up and settled me back on the wide leather sofa. The way he whipped off my jeans and panties led me to believe he wasn’t quite as in control of himself as his voice suggested.

  He dipped his head and buried his cheeks between my thighs, licking at the crease where thigh met buttock. He nipped the skin there before soothing it with his tongue. I expected him to move to the other side, but he used his hands just above my knees to pry my legs farther apart and kissed me—full-on tongue to my folds.

  I arched my back, shocked by the contact even as my body tried to force my lower lips against his gentle ministrations. I moaned. He kissed me deeper, parting my wet flesh with his tongue and delving deep inside me.

  My thighs shook, and I tried to tighten them around his head, but he kept just enough pressure to keep my legs open—my body open—to his will.

  And he willed to love me deep and soft, which he proved over the next few minutes. I tried to twist, unsure if I wanted to move from or get closer to his nips, sucks, and licks.

  He met my gaze before he thrust his tongue inside me one more time.

  I combusted around him. My gasps and screams echoed around the space as my belly and thighs convulsed. I softened, finally relaxing on the couch, still trying to catch my breath.

  Nash pressed a soft kiss to the fleshy part of my thigh before he crawled up my body. I continued to tremble through the aftershocks as he pulled me tight into his arms. I rested my head against his chest, unsurprised to feel the raging staccato of his heart.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  He pulled back, studying my face before a slow, totally masculine, pleasure smile lifted his lips. “Mmm… I like you ready for me.”

  My body glowed with the warmth of residual pleasure…until he pulled back farther. “Nash—”

  “Oh, I want you, Ay.” He pressed my hand to the bulge—the large, hard bulge that caused my core to clench delightfully. “But…are you sure? About us?” He looked pained. “Because this is more than getting off. This is me showing you just how much I love you. It…it’s going to tether me to you more tightly.”

  His words warmed me. I placed my hands on his cheeks, and he nuzzled into my palm, kissing it.

  “I want to be as connected to you as I can,” I said around the emotion building in my throat. “You own this,” I placed his hand over my heart.

  His palm encompassed my entire breast. My lack of breast size used to make me self-conscious, but Nash’s appreciative looks, his half-lidded gaze when he licked my nipples, made it clear he was attracted to my body.

  “Now, I want you inside me, making my body yours, too,” I whispered.

  He gently squeezed my breast, causing my back to arch. His smile turned darker, more seductive.

  “If you’re sure…” he began.

  I brought his head down, my palm on his nape, my teeth nipping at his lip. “So sure.”

  He moaned before he sat back enough to help me remove my top and then stood, toeing out of his boots while unbuttoning his pants. He slid the jeans and underwear off his hips in one smooth motion and stepped casually from the garments. He bent, pulled out his wallet, and found a condom. I watched him, licking my lips as he rolled the latex down his length. When he got to the base, he gave it a good squeeze, and I gasped, my thighs clenching at the sight of Nash in his own hand.

  “You sure about this, Ay?”

  “Definitely.” I opened my arms to him, and he settled over me. I spread my thighs, and he slipped between them. He cupped my cheeks in his big palms and surged upward, into me. I blew out a long, slow breath at the thick slide of him rooting inside me.

  Nash’s eyes widened, the storms gone, replaced by wonder. He pulled back a little, so I tilted my hips, trying to capture all of him. He grinned down at me. I tugged his head toward mine, kissing him because he seemed reluctant to let me taste myself on his lips.

  But I wanted that—I wanted everything with him.

  I made sure to kiss him long, slow, and deep, savoring the nuances of how our flavors melded. And as he settled against and over me, I used my inner muscles to squeeze him tight.

  He pulled back just enough to speak. “Driving me crazy.”

  “Good. I want you wild.”

  “Hell, Ay…” He groaned.

  And then he was moving, and it wasn’t soft. He let me know he was there, deep inside me, that he owned me.

  And I lost myself to the pounding of his body into and against mine, just as I lost myself in his beautiful, clear eyes. He hovered over me, watchful, intense.

  We peaked together—him with a muffled shout, me with an open-mouthed, silent gasp.

  He collapsed on top of me, his cheek to my shoulder, his lips to my neck, his arms cradling me like I was the most precious thing there was.

  22

  Nash

  Somehow I managed not to crush her, even as my breathing remained labored and my vision tunneled. Fuck, that was intense.

  I felt wrung out, but in the best way. My muscles were loose, and my head was empty of all but the scent and feel of Aya. I clutched her to me, unwilling to break this moment, break our connection.

  She rested her forehead against my collarbone, also struggling to regain her breath. I kept one arm wrapped around her waist as I shifted us so my ass wasn’t hanging off the edge of the cushion. She tilted her head back, and I leaned in—almost as if we’d choreographed this, or been here in this position before. I could only wish, even as I marveled in the soft touch of our lips, the rightness of the connection.

  “Aya.” I stopped, unable to think of what I could tell her.

  She smiled against my lips. “You’re quite the snuggler. Almost as good as the sexing me up, but definitely sweeter.”

  I chuckled as I tightened my hold. “I’m a lot of things with you that I wouldn’t be with others. I need you to know that. Remember it. Because the world just wants its pound of flesh.” I traced the elegant arch of her brow and the soft, smooth plumpness of her lip.

  “Would you like to be this way with others?” she asked.

  I continued to caress her face. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel safe. But you matter to me, Aya. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you how much back then, but it’s always been more than any album or record deal or trust fund.”

  Her smile wobbled a little. “I understand,” she murmured. “And I love you, too. More than anything.” She cupped my cheeks and stared into my eyes. “I need you to know that.”

  I frowned a little at her intensity, but my stomach rumbled. “Sorry.”

  “I’m hungry, too,” she said.

  I started to pull away, but she stayed me with her palm to my cheek. “Thank you.”

  I swallowed, worry clawing up my chest. “For what?”

  “For your patience as I worked through my fears. For loving me.” Mischief lit up her eyes. “And loving me very thoroughly.”

  I laughed as I disengaged from her. Then, before she could argue, I swung her up in my arms and strode from the room. I padded down the hall and up the back stairs, ignoring Aya’s whispered demands to be put down, to get her clothes.

  “No one’s here and no one’s going to walk in,” I assured her.

  She looped her arms around my neck and rested her cheek against my shoulder. “Okay.”

  I shouldered open the door to my room and marched us into the large bath. “Let’s get cleaned up. Then, we’ll find something delicious from Chef Steve.”

  I set her on her feet in front of the marble shower stall. She began turning on knobs and adjusting the shower heads she wanted, so I went to the small room with the toilet and unrolled the condom.

  I dropped it in the trash, wishing I didn’t have to wear one. We’d need to talk about what she was ready for. The rehab center had tested me for STDs, and I was clean. I was pretty sure she was, too, but we’d talk about that, soon.

  I smiled as I re-entered the main bathroom and grabbed another condom out of the package I kept in one of the drawers.

  Aya was under the rainfall showerhead, water sluicing over her tanned skin. Oh yeah, definitely after a long, long shower.

  “You should talk to him.”

  Aya and I lay on the couch in the library, which was fast becoming my favorite place in the house. She liked the books, the comfortable furnishings. I liked that I’d fucked her here.

  “Talk to who?” I asked.

  Jigsaw lay on my chest, purring. Mayet was curled up next to me while Aya snuggled on the other side, her head on my shoulder. This was bliss.

  “Steve.”

  I tensed.

  “Why’d you have to go and ruin my good mood?” I grumbled.

  She tickled the underside of Jigsaw’s chin. He shook his head, then yawned.

  Aya remained silent.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “You are so stubborn,” I grumbled.

  She batted her eyelashes at me. “And you aren’t?”

  “Fuck. I don’t want to do this.”

  Concern washed over her features. “Then don’t.”

  “I need to talk to him about it—about my mom.” Which I was dreading. “But…I can’t pretend she didn’t abandon me. But if he tells me…” I blew out a harsh breath, though it didn’t dissipate the tension behind my breastbone. I rubbed, wanting to move it.

  “I overheard her and Pop Syad one time,” I said.

  “It was the night of Lev’s funeral. I was upset, didn’t want to sleep alone.”

  “So you went to your mother,” Aya said in a soft voice. “Of course you did.”

  “They were too busy glaring at each other, throwing around hurtful comments to notice me.”

  “But you remember every word.”

  It wasn’t a question. Aya knew I’d kept that conversation close, taken it out and studied it, obsessing over it.

  “Mom said she didn’t want new security, but Pop said I needed it, especially now that Lev was gone—that I was his heir and needed to be treated like it. Mom said I needed time to process Lev’s death, to just be. And Pop Syad said I didn’t get that luxury. Mom said he’d never given it to her either. Pop said that’s why Mom had married Brad, and the situation devolved.”

  I gazed down at my clasped hands. “Mom kept accusing Pop Syad of trying to control her, manipulate her, bend her to his will.”

  “Did he?”

  I snorted. “Till the day he died. I’m pretty sure Pop Syad sought Steve out, hoping his presence would cause Mom to fall in line, but Mom refused to let Pop Syad take me to Paris.”

  “I was supposed to go to school there—” Aya said.

  “Le Academie de Honore?” I asked.

  She nodded, eyes wide. “Right. We talked about that. I wouldn’t have remembered the name until you said it. Wow,” she muttered. “They really did—”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Why didn’t you end up in Paris, then?”

  “I think Pop gave in to leaving me here when Mom promised she wouldn’t interfere with my new security—that was Steve.” I ran my teeth over my bottom lip, almost chewing on it, until Aya touched her fingers there.

  Aya lifted her head and met my gaze. “Did Pop Syad keep her away? Did Brad? Did Steve?”

  I shut my eyes. If Aya’s suggestions proved true, I was going to feel even worse—if that was possible. I wasn’t sure I could feel worse about my mother. I stroked her hair with my free hand, letting the gesture soothe us both. I liked the puff of warm breath that hit my neck, reminding me I wasn’t alone.

  “I don’t know.”

  “But it matters to you. And Steve could tell you.”

  I resisted the urge to shrug, not wanting her to move again. Her weight was comforting. “Maybe.”

  “Just think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Will you give me an incentive to do so?” I asked.

  Aya giggled. “No one would believe you’d been sexually inactive for years.”

  I turned to face her, our noses millimeters apart. “I’m making up for lost time.”

  23

  Aya

  The next day, Nash announced that he was moving me back into his house and his bed, telling me he couldn’t stand another lonely night. I wasn’t sure of the wisdom of this, but now that we’d been together again, there was no putting out that flame. Nash had been back in my life for months now, and I didn’t want to go to bed alone anymore either.

  So now I stood on the front porch of the Graces’ big house, soaking in a long hug from Mama Grace while Nash, Steve, and his bodyguards brought down my suitcases and other new clothes.

  “Have you talked to him about the will?” Mama asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know how.”

  “When the time’s right,” she said with a smile, but it seemed a bit forced. “Maybe I was wrong, Aya. Don’t hold back too long. Just be honest, and he should understand.”

  I remained quiet on the way back to Nash’s place, trying to figure out how to bring up my mother’s will. I didn’t want him angry with my mum, but the longer I waited, the more I worried about him seeing this as a form of manipulation. Ultimately, the clause mattered not one bit. I just needed him to see that.

  So I needed to tell him. Soon.

  I collected Mayet once we entered the house, cuddling her close in an effort to subdue my anxiety. She wiggled from my arms when we reached Nash’s room, and she and Jigsaw tripped over each other while Nash positioned my suitcase near his closet. I set to work, and when my clothes were put away, Nash scooped up a kitten in each hand.

  “They’re awesome little deviants,” he said, rubbing his cheek against Jigsaw’s fur, then Mayet’s.

  I reached for Jigsaw and cuddled him to my chest, enjoying the deep purr.

  Nash stepped in closer, angling his body toward mine. “You belong here.”

  I tilted my head, exposing my parted, waiting lips as well as my neck to Nash’s hungry gaze. “Do I?”

  “Mmm… Yes.”

  My lips twitched into a grin. “You going to show me how much?”

  He narrowed his eyes as he pressed his hips to mine. My smile grew. “That seems like a lot.”

  Nash set Mayet down and took Jigsaw from me. With a soft pat to their heads, he turned back, gathering me in his arms. I ran my fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

  “I’d stay inside you all day if you’d let me,” he mumbled.

  My breath hitched as I envisioned his plan.

  “Ay, you’re supposed to be the voice of reason.”

  “Well, I can’t be. I want you too much.”

  He kissed along the column of my throat. “I want you, too.”

  The next week passed with us focused solely on each other, but then real life intruded. As much as Nash didn’t like it, he needed to attend band rehearsal. He, Bridger, and Jax had hired a new bass player named Maddox, who needed time with the guys to see if they’d click.

  I listed Nash’s rising anxiety among my reasons for not bringing up my mum’s will.

  More days passed, and I went to my classes while Nash and his bandmates recorded three songs for their fourth album, so each day was busier than the last.

  He flopped down on the couch in the library next to me at about ten one night, exhausted but his face glowing with excitement. “We laid down an amazing track today,” he said, turning to look at me. His eyes were alight, the storms nonexistent.

  I set aside my textbook and moved closer, resting my cheek on his shoulder and my hand on his chest. “Which one?”

  “‘Breaking with Dawn.’ It’s bad juju to say it’s going to be a hit. Otherwise I would.”

  I smiled as I caressed his cheek, my fingers trailing down his jaw. “I know it’s going to be a hit. The lyrics are gorgeous, the melody hauntingly beautiful.”

  He gripped my waist and lifted me to straddle his thighs. “You’re beautiful.”

  He brushed his lips over mine. Once, and then again. I melted. All thoughts of talking to Nash about my mother’s will vanished under his soft lips and nimble fingers. I cried out in pleasure, peaking twice before Nash carried me to his bed.

  I woke the next morning determined to talk to him. We were happy, we were in love. We could discuss and discard my mother’s strange demands. I mean, it’s not like we needed the money. We’d just ignore the clause, go about our business, and lots of charities would benefit. It would have no bearing on our decision whether or not to have children. I would make sure Nash understood that.

  But he was already gone—back in the studio, his note said. I sighed, shoulders sagging.

  Jenna called before I made it out of the bedroom.

  “Hey, girlie. Kate and I thought we’d go shopping after lunch, then hit up happy hour—well, mocktail hour for preggers-me—before we need to meet the guys at the show.”

  Cam and Rye were bringing their wives to Nash’s intimate performance at Antone’s in an effort to ensure Maddox had the band’s cues down before they restarted their postponed touring from when Nash had gone to rehab.