Authors: Jay Crownover
stoked. Your hair is awesome and wild, I love that shit … and your eyes. Fuck me, but your eyes could
inspire men to go to war, to paint works of art, to rip their goddamn heart out of their chest and offer it to
you without a second thought … then and now. None of that has changed over the years, so there is no way
I would have said that stuff about you … no fucking way. You heard me say, ‘Saint Ford needs a bag over
her head to get laid’? I don’t think so.”
He was really, really mad. I could feel it burning off of him and I didn’t know how to react. For so long
I had been the one feeling victimized, had used that turn of events to justify the way I acted with other
people, but now that he mentioned it, as clear as that memory was, I had never heard him say my name.
“I—”
I jumped in the seat when the side of his fist slammed down on the dashboard in front of him.
“You what? Want an excuse not to like me because you know I’m attracted to you and you can’t handle
it? I heard negative shit about myself every day of my childhood, Saint. I wasn’t smart enough, clean
enough, polite enough, and Lord only knows my skin color and my eye color were all fucking wrong. You
really think I would do that to someone else? Yeah, I might be guilty of not seeing you real clearly when
you were right in front of me back then, and I may have inadvertently hurt your feelings by acting like a
hormonal idiot at that party, but if you had said something to me, told me you were going to be there to see
me, I can guarantee that wouldn’t have happened. I might have been running my mouth and talking shit,
but I wasn’t talking about you.”
His eyes were almost black. I had no idea what to do. For my entire life I thought I knew, was so sure,
and now I felt like I didn’t know anything.
I shoved my hair back behind my shoulders and looked at him.
“If not me, then who, Nash? Who else would you have been talking about? I know you said it. I heard
you and I saw you. Even if it wasn’t about me, using hurtful words like that isn’t right.”
He slammed his hands on the steering wheel and growled at me, actually growled.
“Who knows? A teacher I didn’t like, a girl that I hooked up with, a girl that turned me down … I don’t
remember because I was a teenage guy full of stupid shit and a lot of anger back then. We all said stupid
stuff on the regular, but I never picked on anyone because I knew exactly how crappy that felt. Back then,
all I wanted to do was get laid, party with my friends, and forget that my mom was a ruthless bitch. My life
sucked, I had a lot of moments where
I
sucked. I was barely hanging in there most days. I’m not going to
deny I was acting like a moron because I more than likely was, but I know there is no way I was verbally
attacking you like that.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I wouldn’t have said anything like that about you because I didn’t think it. I thought you
were pretty then, I think you’re unbelievably gorgeous now, and all along I’ve known girls like you don’t
get into guys like me. Girls like Ashley Maxwell do.”
I reached out and put my hand on his that was curled so tightly on the steering wheel. I had always been
into a guy like him, that’s why those awful words still haunted me.
“Nash …” The way I wanted to believe him, trust in him, was overwhelming and I had to admit he
might have a point about telling him I was going to that party to specifically see him. Mostly I was caving
and thinking there might be more to what happened back then because it made me feel less confused about
the way I wanted him, the way he just lit me up with a mere look.
He looked at my hand and then into my eyes.
“Even if some jerk did say that about you, you should know that it was just kids being dumb and none
of it was true. And I swear I never would have thrown away an opportunity to hang out with you if I knew
you were offering it up. Back then, a party like that meant one thing—getting laid. I had a one-track mind.
Words like that, others’ opinions of you, shouldn’t have that kind of power, Saint.”
But they did and therein lay the problem. I was always guilty of letting other people’s words and actions
hurt me and dictate how I felt about myself, and it was costing me more than I ever thought. I wanted who
he was with me now to be the real Nash, not the Nash that still haunted my memories with indifference and
careless words.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and stuck it in his
mouth. I gasped at him and reached over to yank it out of his mouth, which had him glaring at me even
harder.
“No! I thought you quit?”
“I did, until last week.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. I knew what happened last week that would have made him start up
again. I was to blame for that, but I could rectify it now if he let me.
I shoved the door open and bent down to look at him. “Come inside with me, Nash.”
He threw his head back against the headrest and shook his head in the negative.
“That didn’t work out so great for me last time, Saint.”
No, it hadn’t, but I was tired from holding on to who I’d thought Nash had been, when the Nash from
now was all gorgeous and accommodating in front of me. He had dropped everything and come to pick me
up without question. I threw his unlit cigarette on the ground next to me and lifted both of my eyebrows at
him. It was time to make new memories to replace the old ones that haunted me.
“I’ve never wanted to have sex with any guy like that before. I couldn’t stop myself, didn’t want to stop.
I want you, want to touch you, feel you, and it was amazing for me. No guy, ever, has gotten me off before,
Nash. Not that there have been a lot, but you are the only one. I can’t promise you that I’m not going to
freak out again. There’s a good chance I might start to cry because I don’t really have a handle on all the
things you make me feel, good and bad, but I want you to come inside. I don’t want the past between us
right now.” I didn’t want anything to stand between us anymore.
He looked like he was going to tell me no. I don’t know how I would have handled that, actual,
undeniable, in-my-face rejection, but luckily I didn’t have to find out because he threw open his door and
climbed out of the car and looked at me over the roof. He wasn’t going to disappoint me. That made my
heart flutter and my tummy go all squishy and warm.
“Let’s give it ten minutes. Ten minutes, and if it isn’t going to work for both of us, let’s cut our losses
and no one gets hurt or”—one of his black eyebrows shot up and a self-deprecating grin pulled at his
mouth—“left hanging.”
“Ten minutes?” It didn’t sound like nearly enough time to touch all that smooth, burnished skin.
“Ten minutes.”
I could handle ten minutes without freaking out. Heck, when he kissed me the first time, it had lasted
longer than ten minutes. I could do this, wanted to do this, but that didn’t mean my hands stopped shaking
or the idea of getting naked with him didn’t have my stomach dipping and second thoughts trying to shove
their way up from the depths. I talked a good game about letting sleeping dogs lie, but really I could feel
they were always there, tugging hard on the leash.
On the plus side, getting naked with him again meant I was finally going to see the rest of that tattoo.
Ten minutes. No big deal, but something told me they were going to be the ten most important minutes
in my life. Especially after what she had just revealed about the past and why she ran so hot and cold with
me. That was some heavy stuff, made the way I needed kid gloves with her so much more understandable.
She was into me, but she sort of hated me as well. That wasn’t a spot I had ever been in before.
I even remembered both those moments in question. It was all kind of hazy and foggy with time, but I
recalled the main parts of it. That party had been one of many. I’m pretty sure I had already been drunk
before showing up. Ashley Maxwell and I had an easy thing going where if I showed up without a chick, I
usually ended the night in her bed. I can’t even remember what she looked like and I sure as hell don’t
remember asking Saint if she was going to be there. Parties like that were below her and I knew it. Hearing
her take on the situation made me feel like an asshole and it made why she had suddenly started treating me
like a leper back then understandable.
The day she had caught me running my mouth was less clear. I didn’t remember what I had been
talking about, or the words I had used, but I do remember seeing her come around the corner looking like
she was going to be sick all over the place and crying big, fat tears. At the time I thought if we were actually
friends, or if she wasn’t so shy, I would have asked her what was wrong. She was too pretty to look that
heartbroken.
I wasn’t a saint. I was an angry teenager cast aside and trying to figure out what kind of young man I
was ultimately going to become. That had been a rocky road for a while and I said dumb shit, used hurtful
words when I was shooting off my mouth, but I had never been and would never be a gossip or a bully.
Yes, whatever she had overheard me say was inappropriate and taken out of whatever context I was using it
in, and probably made me sound and appear to be the biggest dickhead on the planet.
However, what bothered me most wasn’t that Saint had stumbled across me acting like an idiot and held
it against me all this time, but that she had just automatically thought whoever I was bitching about had
been her. That spoke to self-esteem issues and self-doubt that I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle. Not
to mention I didn’t really know how to show her the guy I was now versus the pissed-off kid I had been
then.
I shadowed her into her apartment and followed suit as she tossed her coat on the back of her couch. I
didn’t even look around the place. When she turned to face me I stepped immediately into her space. I
wasn’t going to give her the option of running again. She was almost as tall as I was with those wicked
boots on. I grabbed her hair in one hand and wrapped the curls around my fist and used my other to grab
on to her chin. She was caught.
“We can do a lot in ten minutes, Saint. Where is the bedroom?”
She looked a little unsure and tilted her head in the direction of a doorway past the little galley kitchen.
Since I was working on a clock, I didn’t have a lot of time to waste. I kissed her and simultaneously moved
her backward in the direction of the door. She moved with me, which made me sigh in appreciation against
her lips. She got her hands under the hem of my thermal and started to tug it up over my back and ribs.
No way was that happening again. I hit the door and pinned her against it, which made her gasp a little
and had her eyes widening in surprise. I had to say I liked how well we lined up. It would be super easy to
tangle her all around me and get down to business … maybe after these ten minutes were up I would show
her that ten more would be a great idea … and ten more after that. I gently untangled her fingers from the
fabric of my shirt and lightly put my hands on her narrow waist under the hem of her sparkly tank top.
“My turn.”
I think she was stunned, but she stuck her bottom lip out a little bit at me and I couldn’t resist the desire
to catch it between my teeth.
“But I want to see your tattoo.” Her voice was breathy and had a catch to it that made my dick all kinds
of happy.
I lifted an eyebrow and watched her carefully as I got her top off up over her head. She was breathing
shallow and obviously she was anxious, but so far so good, and I still had time on the clock. I turned the
doorknob behind her and the door opened easily with her weight leaned against it. As I continued to dance
her backward I found the tiny little zipper on the back of her skirt and started to pull it down.
I kissed her again to distract her from the fact that I was steadily heading her toward the bed in the
center of the room and told her in a husky voice, “Later. It’s not going anywhere.”
I wanted to turn the lights on so I could see all that pretty white skin I was uncovering and the way all
her red-and-copper-colored hair looked all over it, and the bed, and me when we got there. I didn’t think
she was there with me yet, though. She was kissing me back, had her arms wrapped around my neck, but
she was still stiff and she didn’t seem like she was in any hurry to let me get down to business as I wiggled
the skirt over her hips and down over those pirate boots.
“Nash …” There was hesitancy in her voice and I felt like I was running out of time.
I got down so that I was on my knees in front of where she was hovering on the edge of the bed. She
looked like she wanted to bolt but she took a deep breath and looked down at me. Her eyes were swirling
like a hurricane. In that gaze was an equal mix of desire, trepidation, and question. The way her breasts rose