This time, I do laugh at her melodramatic response. “We’ll see,” I repeat, shifting into gear and speeding off down the road.
We’ve been on the road for at least five minutes before she stops pouting long enough to realize we’re not heading toward her condo.
“Where are you going?”
“I need a drink. And so do you.”
FOURTEEN
Marissa
Even though I want to argue with Nash, just to ease my frustration, I don’t. He’s right. I need a drink. I might even need two.
I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes, trying to forget about the last hour or so. And the disappointment of it. I don’t look up again until I hear Nash shift into park and cut the engine. When I open my eyes and turn my head toward him, he’s watching me, his expression blank. I’d love to know what he’s thinking.
Or would I?
I decide I probably don’t. I’d say he thinks I’m a monster. And, at the moment, I feel an awful lot like he might be right.
Feeling ashamed of myself, I look away, through the windshield, to see where we are. I half expected to see Dual in front of me. I don’t really know why. That makes no sense. I’d say that’s the last place Nash would want to go to relax. But of all the other places I might’ve imagined him picking, this place is possibly even more surprising.
We’re parked in the lot of a piano bar. Before I can ask any questions, Nash speaks as if he’d read my thoughts. “My mother used to play the piano. It always relaxes me to hear it.” He gets out and comes around to my side to open the door. I’m surprised when he takes my hand. It’s such a gentlemanly gesture. And he’s no gentleman. But he sure does have a way of keeping me off balance. I’ll give him that. “Plus our fancy clothes won’t be that big of a deal here.” I wouldn’t have even thought of that, but I’m glad he did.
“Why the calm courtesy tonight? This isn’t like you?”
He looks at me and arches one brow. “Maybe I don’t mind pretending to be something that I’m not, either.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Pretending?”
“You’re complaining?”
“No. I’m just . . .”
“Just what? Suspicious?”
I smile. “Maybe.”
“Good.”
Nash releases my hand more quickly than I would’ve liked. I remind myself that it’s for the best. The more distance I can keep from him emotionally, the better off I’ll be.
But already a part of me is arguing that I don’t want to keep distance. I want to get closer, close enough to feel the heat. The problem is, close enough to feel the heat usually means close enough to get burned.
His hand at the base of my spine causes chills to erupt down my arms. Self-conscious, I want to cross my arms over my chest; I know my ni**les are hard. But I resist the urge. Rather, I put my focus on enjoying the touch of his hand.
The bar is dimly lit but for the circle that spotlights the piano. The smell of expensive cigars permeates the air and creates a haze that further obscures the half-moon-shaped booths that line the walls. Nash guides me to an empty one, pushed deep into a corner.
I slide in behind the table. Rather than sitting across from me, Nash scoots in beside me, forcing me to move around to the back of the booth, almost entirely hidden from the room, but with a great view of the piano.
When I stop, so does Nash. He doesn’t look at me as he slings his arm over the back of the booth; he’s already watching the pianist work magic with his long fingers. But that’s not the case with me. I can’t concentrate on anything except Nash.
His body is plastered to mine from my knee to my shoulder, which is tucked snugly under his arm. Even above the smoke, I smell his clean, manly scent. It envelops me.
I let my eyes slide to my left. Nash fills my vision. If I were to tilt my head and lean in, I could press my lips to the pulse I see beating in his neck, just above his collar.
As if he feels my eyes on him, he reaches up with his free hand and loosens his bow tie, expertly unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. The tie lists to one side, dangling at a sexy angle. Thoughts of undressing him run through my head, making my mouth dry.
With perfect timing, the waitress comes to take our order. “Vodka rocks and a Grey Goose martini, dirty.” Again, I’m fine with what he orders. Not that it would matter. He’d probably order whatever he wanted, anyway.
I wonder to myself if he does things like that because he’s that thoughtless, or if it’s because he likes total control. Maybe it’s a bit of both. One thing is for sure—the thought of giving him total control, of letting him take the reins, of letting him take me, gives me a thrill like no other.
Nash keeps his silence and basically ignores me until the drinks come. He downs his in two large gulps and signals the waitress for another before she can even step away from the table. Reaching forward, he slides my drink closer to me and shifts in the booth until he’s slightly tilted in my direction. His body creates a barrier against the rest of the room, like I’m shielded by him.
Or being overtaken by him. Overwhelmed. Slowly consumed.
“Drink,” he says softly, drawing my eyes to his. They’re deep pools that look like the perfect place to get lost, to hide out from the rest of the world. “Tell me about it. Tell me what happened.”
I don’t need him to clarify; I know exactly what he means. He’s referring to the days I was held captive. A shiver works its way through me, as it always does when I think of it, which I try purposely not to do.
“Let’s talk about you first. I’m happy to give, but I want something in return.”
“If I answer your questions first, that’s not ‘something in return.’ That’s bribery. What is it, Marissa?” he asks softly, his dark eyes taunting me. “Don’t you trust me to satisfy you?”
“No, I don’t.”
He reaches forward to push my hair back over my shoulder, his fingertips grazing my neck. “Well, I can promise you I won’t leave you anything but satisfied.”
I struggle to think past his smooth words and magnetic gaze. “You know what I mean, Nash,” I say as sternly as I can manage.
I can’t hear so much as feel his sigh. He’s so close to me, his chest brushes my arm when he inhales. “What do you want to know? That I haven’t already told you, that is.”