Page 162 of Tessa and Nash

He lines himself up with one hand, the other splayed on the tree trunk. The tip of him presses, the tease almost too much, and I think he’s going to string me along, make me beg for it.

I hook my knee around his hip and drag him closer, opening myself up as an offering, and finally, he pushes into me, no warning, no soft lead in. I grip his shoulders, digging in with my nails, and he’s so deliciously thick and deep I scream.

“Oh, Nash, don’t stop.”

He ruts against me hard, the bark scrapes my ass, but I wrap my body around him, desperate for leverage. I claw at his back, thighs locked tight around his waist, and meet every thrust with the last shreds of my focus.

This… this madness is what we both need right now, I can feel it.

He fucks me until I’m nothing but nerve endings. Every thrust slams me flat against the chill bark, every grunt is a demand. My arms burn, twisted up behind me, and I chase the pain.

I need it to help me forget.

The friction is relentless, the angle brutal. My body convulses, and in a split second, the pleasure explodes outward. I arch so hard I might break my own spine. The orgasm crashes through, yanking the air from my lungs, white hot and catastrophic.

All the while, Nash’s still pounding, chasing his own finish. I want to tell him to let go, but all I can make is animal noise. The pace finally breaks, he fucks me wildly, then slams into me hard, one last time as he screams out through the remaining shudders of his pleasure…

The moment after is worse.

Not because of regret, at least not right away, but because of the sudden, brutal quiet that rushes in to fill the space where heat and urgency were just burning everything down.

Nash stills against me, breath ragged, forehead dropping to my shoulder. He needs the contact to stay upright. His hands stay firm at my hips, pinning me in place.

For a heartbeat, I let myself stay there.

I let myself feel the weight of him. The warmth. The way my body is still humming, oversensitized, loose-limbed, and trembling. The way my pulse is everywhere at once.

This is real, a traitorous voice whispers.

This isn’t the act.

And that thought is what breaks me.

Because reality crashes in all at once, sharp and unforgiving.

The tree at my back. The frozen lane under our feet. The barn lights not far away. The town, my uncle, his family, the land.

The fact that I just crossed a line I can’t redraw. Not after Nash said the word ‘love’.

I don’t know whether he means it or not, but that, more than anything else, scares the shit out of me.

I pull back.

Nash looks at me immediately, concern flashing across his face, hands loosening as if he’s giving me the option to leave.

“Tessa?” he says quietly.

My name sounds different in his mouth now. Less careful. Less guarded.

That makes my chest ache.

I look down, gathering up and fumbling with my clothes, my fingers clumsy and unsteady. I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with skin.

“Hey. Talk to me.”

I shake my head because if I open my mouth again, I’m not sure what will come out. Fear. Want. Guilt. It’s dangerous and unmanageable.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I admit, the words scraping their way out. “And I hate that. I don’t do this. I don’t lose control like this.”