Twenty minutes later, Nash emerged from Orla’s flat with flushed cheeks and sex-mussed hair. With tight jeans and the scent of her all over him. Fuckin’ hell. I closed my eyes for a hot second, forcing myself to breathe through my mouth and not picture every depraved thing they might’ve done to match the sounds that had filtered through the wall. Goddamn, why was everything about these two pure fuckin’ sex?
