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I turn to greet them with a friendly customer service smile, but it falls right off my face when I see who they are. Before me stands Nash, Business Guy, Apron Guy, and the blond kid.
It seems like tequila and Nash don’t mix well because my brain has bid fucking farewell.
Nash pushes me gently, and I fall onto the soft mattress, my heart pounding in my chest. He follows me down, his body hovering over mine, and I welcome the weight of him, a pressure I’ve craved without knowing, a physical connection that fills the hollow spaces in my heart.
“You know, just because he’s good for your hole doesn’t mean he’s good for your soul,” Saylor teases,
I have a new game called Avoid the Jones Boys.
I want to throw something at him. A tool. Myself.
“You’re bleeding,” he says, his voice laced with a concern that sounds almost foreign coming from him. I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes me. “As if you care.” But then he’s on me, his hand at my throat, not just holding but claiming, pulling me toward him. Our lips collide in an unexpected kiss, leaving me momentarily stunned.
