My eyes flew open, and last night, all of it, came flooding back to me in high-definition with surround sound.
Five orgasms.
“You’re gonna stop running and I’m gonna stop fighting this.”
Nash on his knees between my legs. His tongue working miracles.
“I need you.”
Inevitable.
And then circling right back to the five orgasms.
Not just any run-of-the-mill, I-could-have-done-better-with-a-vibrator orgasms. No. Nash Morgan had blown my previous peak sexual experiences out of the water. Hell, out of the stratosphere.
It was like the moment his penis came out, my body was programmed to explode.
Just what the hell was I supposed to do about that?
Oh, and then there was that whole thing about me falling in l—
Yeah, my brain wasn’t even willing to think the word. This couldn’t be real. This had to be some kind of delusion. Maybe the whole town had a radon problem? Or there was some sort of hallucinogen in the water?
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, which was pressed against my naked back. My stupid body thrilled at the sensation.
“I can feel you freakin’ out.”
“I’m not freaking out,” I lied.
“Angel, your body is so tense I might find a diamond with my dick next time,” he said, tracing the edges of my tattoo with a finger.
“There’s not going to be a next time,” I decided, trying to scooch my way to the edge of his bed.
The sheets were rumpled from our sexathon before we’d passed out from dehydration and orgasm supersaturation.
His arm tightened around my belly and he dragged me back against him in a delicious show of strength. I was plotting defensive maneuvers when he nuzzled his face against my hair and sighed. “I was right.”
I paused my plotting. “About what?”
“Best way to wake up in the morning by far.”
I went limp.
Great. After a night of Nash the Sex God, now I had to deal with Nash the Sweetheart. I didn’t have the weaponry to defend myself against either, let alone both.
“You can’t keep me here,” I warned him, stretching my leg straight until my foot found the edge of the mattress. “Eventually someone will come looking for one of us, and I’ll be forced to tell them that you held me captive.”
A heavy, hairy leg slid over mine. He hooked my ankle with his heel and dragged it backward.
In another second, I was on my back and an amused Nash Morgan was ranging himself over me. His hips pinned mine to the mattress with the aid of what I identified as his usual impressive morning wood. “Angel, any man who walked in and saw you lookin’ like you look wouldn’t blame me.”
My escape plan fell out of my head.
Those blue eyes were sleepy and satisfied. His hair was tousled. The fresh bruises on his face tarnished his all-American good guy handsomeness, giving him an even sexier rakish appeal. There was a self-satisfied smirk playing on the lips that had turned me into a writhing puddle of need.
Without thinking, I traced my fingers over his pecs where a dusting of light hair tickled me. God, I loved chest hair.
Those two garish pink welts stood out against the rest of his smooth skin, reminding me that the man on top of me was nothing short of a hero. He had such a beautiful body.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, beautiful?” he asked.
“How’s your shoulder?” I asked. “I wasn’t careful last night.”
“Shoulder’s fine,” he said. “I wasn’t careful with you either.”
I grinned against my will. No, he hadn’t handled me like I was a delicate flower in danger of being trampled. I hadn’t felt like a glass figurine. He had used me. Hard. And I’d freaking loved it.
“I guess I didn’t mind it.”
Nash slid down my body and placed a light kiss to each of the trio of surgical scars surrounding my breast. It was painfully sweet. My toes curled against the hair on his legs.
“Tell me what you need,” he said, just before using his mouth to tease my nipple.
“Coffee. A huge breakfast. Some ibuprofen.”
His head came up and those blue eyes were serious now. “Tell me what you need to feel safe with this. With us.”
If I hadn’t already lo—liked him, I would have fallen hard just for that. No one had ever asked me that question before. I wasn’t sure I had an answer.
“I…don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you what I need,” he offered.
“What?”
Nash slid off me onto his side and propped his head in his hand. The fingers of the other trailed over my breasts and stomach. His swollen cock rested against my hip, scrambling my brain.
“I need to know that you’re okay with what happened last night and that you want it to happen again.”
“Done and done. Wow. That was easy. Now about that coffee…”
“I need to know that you’re in this with me for however long it lasts,” he continued. “That you’re willing to admit there’s something between us that adds up to a hell of a lot more than just chemistry.”
“Pretty sure we experienced a very chemical reaction last night,” I reminded him.
He trailed those talented fingers up my neck, through my hair, combing it back from my face. “I need more pieces of you. As many as you’re willing to give. And I need you to talk to me, honestly. Even if you think I’m not going to like what you have to say.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Nash, we don’t know where this is going or what the future holds.”
“Angel, I’m just happy to be back among the living. I’m more concerned with enjoying right now than worrying about tomorrow. But I need us to be on the same page.”
It wasn’t a big ask.
I brushed my fingertip over the scar on his shoulder. “This sounds like you’re trying to turn this into a relationship.”
His smile was like the first peek of the rising sun. “Baby, we’re already in one whether you like it or not.”
“I’ve never done the relationship thing. At least, not as an adult.”
“And I never had sex in a public library before. First time for everything.”
I contemplated my options, and for once, telling the truth seemed like the straightest path to what I wanted.
I needed Nash to understand what he was getting himself into. To recognize the pitfalls that lay ahead.
“I live alone and I like it. I hate sharing the remote. I like not having to consult with someone else before ordering dinner. I don’t want to have to move the seat of my car every time I drive. The idea of passing my decisions through an ‘us’ filter leaves me feeling vaguely nauseated. I love my parents but their constant need to check up on me drives me insane, and that problem could become yours if this goes anywhere. I like to splurge on clothes and bags and shoes, and I’m unwilling to justify that. I get up early and I work a lot. I don’t want to have to change that to accommodate someone else.”
Nash waited a beat. “Okay then. The only TV I watch is the occasional football game. The remote can be yours the rest of the time. I don’t mind cooking, but if you tell me you want takeout burgers, I’ll get you takeout burgers. I promise to always move your seat back to the original position after I drive. I wouldn’t mind having some nosy parents worry about me for a change. I like the way you dress just fine so I’ve got no problems with your shopping habits. Long as you let me spoil you once in a while. As for the schedule thing, I think you’re just reachin’ because, Angel, I’m a cop. Enough said. And when it comes to making decisions together, I need a say in your personal safety. I expect you to want a say in mine. Any decisions that affect us together, we make together.”