Page 206 of Tessa and Nash

“Probably.”

I step closer to him, feeling the rhythmic beat of his pulse beneath my fingertips, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his shirt. Nothing else exists in this moment, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be closer to someone in my life.

Nash doesn’t waste a second. His hand slides behind my neck, pulling me toward him, and before I can even process it, his lips are on mine.

The kiss isn’t gentle—it’s hungry. Like he’s been waiting for this moment forever, and the second our lips meet, I realize I’ve been holding my breath, waiting for exactly the same thing.

His hand moves to my waist, drawing me in so close that I can feel the heat of his body through the fabric of my dress. I can’t stop the little gasp that escapes me, and Nash deepens the kiss, his lips curving into a smile against mine, like he knows just how badly this is making me lose control.

Maybe it’s me making it worse when I tangle my fingers in his shirt, pulling him even closer. But honestly? I don’t care. I want him closer. Now.

Then his mouth finds mine again.

This kiss carries none of the careful hesitation from earlier. It is urgent and heated, the kind that pushes every sensible thought straight out of my head. My back bumps softly against the wall, and heat spreads everywhere he touches me.

Nash moves closer, filling the space between us with solid warmth and quiet strength. Every inch of him is firm, as though he has finally stopped pretending restraint is possible.

My fingers curl into the front of his shirt, pulling him nearer even though there is barely any distance left to close. His hand slides slowly down my thigh, rough fingertips catching the hem of my dress and lifting it higher until the cold air brushes across bare skin.

The contrast steals the breath from my lungs.

Nash notices instantly. “Tessa,” he murmurs, my name rough in his throat.

For a brief second, it sounds like he might try to gather himself, as if some final piece of self-control is still holding the line between us.

I close that space before he can.

“Don’t,” I say quietly.

His expression shifts at that. Heat, relief, a flash of wicked understanding that sends a shiver through me. His forehead rests briefly against mine, breath warm against my lips.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says softly.

I meet his gaze without flinching.

“Oh,” I reply, tightening my grip on his shirt. “I think I do.”

And then I kiss him hard.

He shoves my dress to my hips, and a startled breath escapes me when his hand finds me through my thin lace panties. His palm presses there, and the heat of the contact sends a sharp rush of awareness through me.

My head tips back against the wall, breath catching as the tension builds in slow, relentless waves.

“Nash,” I manage, the sound barely more than a breath.

His relentless touch curls my toes. With my clit between his fingers, I can’t catch my damn breath.

“I like feeling what I do to you, Tessa,” he growls against my ear. “So damn wet for me.”

His hand slides to my thigh and lifts me before I fully realize what he’s doing. The movement is effortless, like I weigh nothing to him, and instinct takes over as I wrap my legs around his waist. My dress gathers around my hips, completely forgotten as I cling to his shoulders for balance.

The heat between us is immediate and overwhelming. I can feel how much he wants me, the solid pressure of him against me sending a sharp, electric need through my entire body.

A tremor runs through me.

“Please,” I breathe, the word slipping out before pride has a chance to intervene. My fingers tighten against his shoulders as I meet his eyes. “Now.”

Nash doesn’t hesitate. He half undresses himself in one fluid movement, his eyes fixed on mine the entire time.