Page 55 of Seein’ Red

“Then be a good girl and come on my cock,” he tells me. A shudder rips through me, my heart kicking it up a notch. “Use me, come on my cock, and make me come.”

He grips my hands harder, thrusting up into me like a madman, recapturing my mouth. I hold on for dear life, wanting nothing more than everything he’s giving me. The connection between us, the bond that we’re no longer trying to fight.

And it’s more than enough.

My orgasm slams into me, stars taking over my vision. I start to cry out, but Nash continues to kiss me, swallowing my screams as he furiously pumps his hips. I give in, losing myself to the intensity. It’s only when I hear a distant roar do I realize that Nash broke our kiss, his own climax taking over.

Falling forward, I nestle my head into the crook of his neck, hands still joined, chests heaving together. I can hear his pulse, beating in time with mine, the little pieces of my heart gluing themselves back together.

“You and me, Wills,” Nash says, softly kissing the top of my head. “You and me.”

I sigh, savoring the moment. A moment I thought was long ago lost. I just wish we had found it again for a different reason.

“We never did order that pizza. And now I’m extra hungry.”

I push back, giving him a wide, toothy grin. Nash laughs, shaking his head.

“What mama wants, mama gets.”

“Not ready for that word.”

He nods, turning somber for a second. My stomach sinks, worried I ruined the mood. At least until a shit-eating grin takes over his face.

“That’s fair. Then what my girl wants, my girl gets.”

His girl. Yeah, I like that.

16

WILLA

“B-A-N-A-N-A-S!”

Nash belts out the lyrics, drowning out Gwen Stefani with his off-key rendition, shaking his hips in time with the beat. Famously unable to carry a tune in a bucket, it’s never held Nash back when it comes to singing along, especially if it’s going to earn him a laugh. Which this does. Every time.

Today though, I let it show, earning me a smile that lights up my insides like the Fourth of July and a piercing gaze that makes my lady bits tingle. Seriously, this man is my catnip.

There’s no denying my heart is on my sleeve today. I’m not even bothering to try and hide it. To the point where I’m pretty sure the team loading the tables and chairs into Pour Decisions as we set up for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow assumed we’re a couple.

Which we are. In a way.

One who is still finding their footing and figuring out what that means and looks like—while still not publicly acknowledging anything. But, after yesterday, there’s no denying that we are together. A pair.

It’s me and Nash. Against the world.

“If you like that, I can always take it up a notch,” he says, slinking toward me, imitating my pageant walk. I shake my head, pressing my lips together to try and hold in my laugh, but it’s no use. “Fergie and I could get Glamorous.”

“I think you just want to show off your spelling bee skills,” I retort.

“Mrs. MacDonald would be really impressed, I’m sure of it. I’ve come a long way.”

I nod, not sure that singing along with pop stars was quite what our late third grade teacher had in mind when she told Nash he needed to work on his spelling skills.

Turning away from Nash, I survey the room, my heart full. Pour Decisions, the open, warehouse-like space that acts as a taproom for Southern Brothers Brewing, has a rough-cut bar on the far side, leaving plenty of room for hanging out. Filled with round tables and chairs, long buffet tables off to the side of the bar, and a clearing the perfect size for a dance floor, the space looks perfect. Almost as if it were made for this kind of event.

“You know, Milo,” I say, looking at him behind the bar. He looks up from the glasses he’s washing, his best friend and business partner, Brandt Rawlins, and Brandt’s younger sister Brenna to his left, neither of whom bother to respond. “You should really offer this place up to do more things like this.”

“You volunteering to take on the role of event planner?” Milo quips. “’Cause I’m sure as hell not. I brew beer, Wil, that’s it.”