“That’s much better, thank you.”
We stand in silence for so long I finally begin to get uncomfortable. But just when I start to rack my brain for things to say, Nash speaks.
And drops a nice little bomb.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Nash
“My father’s in prison. For murder.”
Way to just blurt it out there, idiot!
I don’t know why I feel so compelled to tell Olivia all my dirty little secrets, but I do. Maybe it’s because she feels like the misfit. I can relate to that. In a world where appearances and reputation mean everything, I have to work extra hard to make sure that everything I say and do is above reproach. It was a nearly impossible feat to overcome, outlive and outdistance myself from my father and his imprisonment, but I did it. After years and years of hard work and kissing all the right asses, I finally did it. And now I’m one step closer to my goal.
After what feels like a freakin’ eternity of silence, I look down at her. She’s looking up at me, her lips slightly parted in shock. Her bright green eyes, dark in the dim light, are focused sharply on mine. But the thing I notice most isn’t what’s in them—surprise, disbelief, curiosity, maybe a little pity—it’s what’s not. Judgment. Disdain. Horror. None of the things I’ve so often seen in people’s eyes when I’ve had to tell them my story.
Now I want to kiss her even more.
Damn you! You just get more and more appealing.
“What? No running away, screaming?” I say, unable to keep the slight trace of bitterness from my voice.
She surprises me with a grin and a dubious look. “I think we’ve clearly established that I’m nothing like the people you normally associate with.”
I laugh. And it’s genuine. “Yeah, I guess we have.”
She turns toward me. The only thing on her face now is interest. Simple curiosity. I’m glad to see that trace of pity gone. Of the many things I’d like to have from this girl, pity is nowhere on the list.
“Wanna talk about it?”
I shrug. “It doesn’t bother me as bad as it used to. It feels more like part of my past now than anything else.”
“It must be more than that for you to want to tell me about it.”
Perceptive. She’s as smart as she is beautiful. And probably doesn’t think she’s either one.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t even know why I brought it up.” I look out at the twinkling city lights. Now I feel like a fool for mentioning it.
“But you did. Now you have to tell me or I’ll be forced to think you’re cruel and sadistic.”
“Maybe I am.”
She narrows her eyes on me, sizing me up. “Nah. I don’t believe it. Besides, isn’t there some law against cruel and unusual punishment? You can’t be a lawyer and be a law-breaker at the same time.”
I chuckle at her logic. I can’t help but wonder what she’d think if she knew the truth. “People do it all the time.”
“But you aren’t ‘people.’ You’re the guy that’s getting ready to put me out of my misery.”
“Misery, huh?” I ask, quirking one brow at her.
I know my smile probably gives away the direction my thoughts have taken, and Olivia manages to surprise me again when she immediately jumps in to play along.
“Yes, misery,” she agrees with a smile. “You’re not the kind of guy to leave a girl hanging, are you?”
Although she seems sweet and innocent and shy, at times she seems ready to participate in a much more intimate and dangerous game. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about games or misery or anything else concerning Olivia Townsend.
But damn if I’m not!
Dark and dirty things come to mind, things like how much pleasure I’d get from putting her in misery. But not the bad kind of misery. No, I want Olivia in the kind of misery that makes her sweat and writhe, and then beg me to come inside her.
I feel the need to resituate inside my pants and I remind myself that I’m drifting onto dangerous ground. My mind understands that, but looking down into Olivia’s face, at her sparkling eyes and lush lips, I can’t for the life of me get that through to any other body parts.
“Only if that’s what she likes,” I say, reaching out to pick up a long black lock of hair from Olivia’s shoulder. The strand feels like silk between my fingers. So does her skin against the back of my hand. “What do you like, Olivia?”
I think I see her chest rise as she catches her breath. Maybe she’ll be the one to throw on the brakes. God knows I’m not going to. I might regret it later, but right now I’m not thinking about anything but what it would be like to see Olivia without that red dress.
Her eyebrow arches. I don’t know if it’s really in acceptance of my challenge or if that’s just what I’m hoping. But then she licks her lips and drops her chin a little, looking up at me from beneath her lashes.
She’s coy. But not on purpose. It’s just the way she is. And it’s an even bigger turn on.
“You mean you don’t know? I figured a four-star General would know all sorts of things the rest of us didn’t.”
“Maybe I just like to do my own recon.”
“And what does that consist of?”
I know I should stop while I still can. Only I can’t.
“I like to use all my senses to get a good lay of the land.”
“Lay of the land?” she asks, the corners of her mouth dimpling.
“Of course,” I reply. “So I can plan my attack.”
“Recon? For an attack? Do tell.”
“First I start with touch.” I reach out and brush one dimple with my fingertip then slowly drag it inward, across her pouty bottom lip. “Touch is invaluable. The texture of the terrain tells me how…aggressive my attack needs to be. Some places require a much more delicate approach than others.”
“I see,” she says softly, her warm breath tickling my finger. “What else?”
“Smell,” I say, sliding my hand into her hair to hold it back as I bury my face in the lightly scented skin of her neck. “A certain scent can tell me if I’m heading in the right direction. Something sweet. Something…musky,” I murmur.
I hear her gasp when I gently bite the flesh beneath her ear. “And hearing,” I whisper. “Sometimes the softest sounds, even a moan can tell me a great deal about how close I am to my attaining my goal.”