Things We Hide from the Light (Knockemout Series, 2)
Things We Hide from the Light: Chapter 13

Okay, even “daredevil, throw caution to the wind” me knew this was a terrible idea. I knew it just like I knew mozzarella sticks were bad for me. But just like mozzarella sticks, the temptation was real. “Nash, that’s not a good idea.”

“Hear me out,” he said, tightening his hold on my hand. “I’m too tired to make a move on you.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” I said dryly.

“Fair. How about this? Whenever you’re close, everything is better. The closer you are, the easier I breathe, the less I feel like life is just a never-ending pour of lemon juice into an open wound that won’t heal. You take away the dark, the cold. And you remind me what it’s like to want to be here.”

“Damn it, Nash! How am I supposed to be responsible and say no to that?”

That tired half smile was my undoing. I believed him. Because he was the kind of man who told the truth. And right now, he was telling it to me.

“I’m so fucking tired, Angel. I just want to close my eyes next to you. Can we worry about the consequences after?”

The man knew how to get to me in the best possible way.

“Fine. But no one is sleeping naked. There will be no sex or running of any bases. There will be no snuggling or cuddling or canoodling. And I’m not cooking you breakfast. Not because it’s a rule but because I don’t know what I’m doing in the kitchen and I’d end up poisoning you.”

“If you stay, breakfast is on me.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, considering. “One more thing.”

“Name your price.”

“We keep this between the two of us.”

Piper’s head popped up at my feet. Nash leaned over and gave her ears a half-hearted ruffle, and I swear I saw hearts appear in her little doggy eyes.

“My apologies. The three of us,” I amended.

“I agree to the terms. But if you want it notarized, we’re gonna have to bring Nancy Fetterheim in, and she’s not known for keepin’ secrets.”

“High-five?” I held up my hand.

That ghost of a smile got a little more pronounced. “You high-five to close deals?”

High fives were less intimate. There wasn’t a lingering pressing of palms, a knowing grip of fingers. It was easy, casual, and absolutely not sexy.

“Don’t leave me hanging, hotshot.”

He slapped my palm.

“Now that that’s settled, you’re going to shower and I’m going to go change.”

“Don’t go. Please. I’ll give you something to sleep in. Just…don’t leave.”

For a second, the facade of charming confidence disappeared and I caught another glimpse of the man beneath it all.

I sighed. I’d already brushed my teeth and performed my five-step skincare routine, so technically, I didn’t need anything from my place.

“I’m sorry for putting you in this position, Angelina. I get that it’s not fair. And I want you to know that under normal circumstances, I’d absolutely be trying to get you into my bed. But I’d be doin’ it with flowers and dinner and a different aim.”

“Are you always this honest?”

“No point in being otherwise,” he said, putting his hands into the cushion and slowly getting to his feet. Exhaustion was evident in the hunch of his shoulders.

I rose with him and slipped an arm around his waist. His arm fell heavily over my shoulders. He was too tired to hide the fact that he really did need to lean on me.

“Oh, so you’ve talked to your brother and Liza J about what’s going on?” I pried as we headed toward Very Bad Idea Town, a.k.a. his bedroom.

“There’s a difference between bein’ honest and keepin’ private matters private.”

I was glad to hear him say that. For me, of course. Not for him, because obviously he should be truthful with the people who cared about him. My situation was entirely different.

“I’m not here to tell you what to do. You’re a big boy. You know what’s best for you.”

He paused at the dresser and opened a drawer. It was full of neatly folded shirts. “Long sleeve or short?”

“Short.” Truth be told, I preferred to sleep naked. But this wasn’t the kind of situation in which to divulge that information.

Nash handed me a soft gray T-shirt that said Knockemout Book or Treat 2015.

“Thanks,” I said.

I’d been in this man’s clothes twice in the past three days. I’d flirted with him, fought with him. I’d done him a favor and had his back when he needed me. Now I was about to climb into bed with him. Things seemed to be accelerating awfully fast, even for me.

“You can take the bathroom first,” he said solicitously.

“Thanks, bed buddy.”

“Bed buddy?” I mouthed in the mirror after I closed the door between us. What was wrong with me?

I did my final bathroom break business, then stripped out of my clothes. His T-shirt hit me at midthigh, but the fact that I wasn’t wearing underwear made the ensemble feel less modest and more risqué. I would just have to not flail around in bed like I usually did to keep the hemline in place. I probably wouldn’t sleep anyway. Being fiercely independent was only one of the reasons I didn’t usually let men spend the night. I was a light sleeper, which meant any noise or movement that happened within a hundred-foot radius woke me up.

I gathered my clothes and returned to the bedroom where I was temporarily rendered speechless. Nash was shirtless and barefoot, and his jeans were unbuttoned.

“Be out in five,” he said.

I nodded, still unable to form words.

The bedroom hadn’t escaped the cleaning frenzy, I noted. The fine layer of dust was gone, as were the prescription bottles. The curtains were drawn over the windows and he’d turned down the covers on the bed. Piper lay curled in a tiny ball in the exact center of the pillows.

The water kicked on in the bathroom and I briefly entertained the idea of tiptoeing out to his table and taking another snoop through his files. But I immediately discarded that. It would be a betrayal to use the opportunity for personal gain.

Instead, I got myself settled on the right side of the bed and scrolled through some work emails until the bathroom door opened again.

Sweet baby cheeses. His hair was damp, making it look darker than usual. His scars, one on the shoulder and one on the torso, were a puckered, pink reminder of what he’d been through. He was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. Dark-blue ones.

His thighs and calves were muscular. A fine layer of chest hair that tapered down into a V disappeared under the waistband.

Piper’s tail tapped out a happy beat on the bedspread. If I had a tail, it would have done the same.

“That’s my side,” Nash said.

I had to look away before I managed to form words. “You have a side of the bed?”

“Don’t you?”

“I sleep alone.”

He raised an eyebrow in question and rounded the foot of the bed to approach me.

I shrugged. “What?”

Nash gave my hip a nudge and signaled for me to slide over. “You don’t share your bed? Ever?” he asked.

“I’m no virgin,” I scoffed as I scooted past Piper to the opposite side of the mattress. “But I don’t usually do sleepovers. I like sleeping alone. And since I don’t have to share, I sleep in the middle and use all the pillows. Do you always sleep on the right?”

He shook his head. “I sleep on whatever side’s closest to the door.”

I flopped back against his pillows. “Ugh. You’re good guy hero down to the bone, aren’t you?”

“What makes you say that?” Those cool blue eyes searched mine as he pulled back the covers and got into bed.

“You sleep closest to the door so anyone who gets in has to get through you to get to Mrs. Hotshot.”

“There is no Mrs. Hotshot.”

“Yet. But seems like you’ve given her a lot of thought.”

The dip of the mattress under his weight did something funny to my heart. So did the weary look on his handsome face when he turned his head to look at me.

Piper snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his injured shoulder. I was not the swooning type. But if I was, I would have melted into a puddle on that mattress.

“Maybe I used to,” he said finally. “But right now, all I can think about is goin’ to sleep and waking up next to you.”

“Don’t be sweet. This is a platonic arrangement,” I reminded him.

“Then I won’t tell you how much I like seein’ you in my shirt in my bed.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, Nash.”

“Night, Angel.”

“Night, hotshot.”

Piper let out a whiny little yip.

I grinned and gave her a pat. “Good night to you too, Piper.”

Nash reached out and turned off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

Somehow this was worse. Now instead of seeing him mostly naked and adorably snuggled up to a dog, my senses were dialed in to pick up on every breath, every shift of his body.

In the dark, he reached for me, his hand linking with mine on top of the covers.

Yep. There would be no sleep for me tonight.

I was jerked awake from an absolutely delicious sex dream by something. Something warm and hard.

My eyelids flew open so fast I worried I’d sprained them. I found a strong, male arm snaked around my waist, up my torso, and under my shirt where the attached strong, male hand gripped my bare breast.

Nash.

I was about to demand he unhand me when his body went rigid against mine. Like he was bracing to meet a threat. The hand on my breast tightened and I realized that I wasn’t mad. I was turned on.

The tension drained out of him just as suddenly as it had appeared and when his hips gave a little involuntary buck, I realized why I was feeling like Lady Horndog of the Northern Virginia Horndogs.

My back, every inch of it, was glued to Nash’s front. My heels were against his shins. The backs of my thighs rested flush against his quads. The useless T-shirt barrier was gathered around my waist, leaving my entire downtown exposed. I was also pretty sure he had his face buried in my hair.

Last but definitely not least, there was another warm, rigid, male appendage making itself known against my naked rear end. Wait. One quick Kegel check and I realized my situation was far more dangerous. Said appendage had tunneled its way between the apex of my thighs.

My lady parts were in full-blown throb. Nash’s extraordinary hard-on was nuzzled right up against me. As in his shaft had parted the lips of my sex and the tip rested just beneath my needy, needy clitoris. One of us was very, very wet.

What the hell had happened to his underwear? Had his penis just hulked its way to freedom?

I needed to move, but I couldn’t decide between wriggling away or rolling over, mounting him, and putting myself out of my misery.

No sex. No snuggling, I reminded myself. He’d been through a lot and damn it, I was turning over a new leaf. Besides, Nash was the one who’d broken our bargain. He’d crossed the center line of the mattress and… Oh shit.

I was on his side. I had my arms locked around the one against my chest. He couldn’t have dragged me across the bed. Manhandling would have woken me and I would have at least elbowed him in the face.

Oh God.

Had I flailed my way over here? Had I put my own ass on Nash’s crotch in my sleep?

This was very, very, very bad.

Okay. I needed a plan. I always had a plan and a backup plan, plus two or three contingencies.

I just needed to block out that insane desire for Nash to angle those hips up. Yep. Just block out the needy little throbs and focus on how to get out of this situation without humiliating myself.

Dear Lord.

It was an ocean of wetness down there. Which was worse, my hot neighbor thinking I’d wet the bed or my hot neighbor realizing I’d put us in a compromising position, gotten turned on, and then leaked sex juice everywhere?

Maybe I could blame it on the dog?

I was mulling over my options along with potential solutions on how to mop us both up without waking him when Nash gave a little groan behind me.

I was confident I could have dealt with the inherent sexiness of that raspy moan had it not also been accompanied by the gentlest shift of his hips. That tiny thrust set off an explosive chain reaction.

The crown of his cock slid forward and nudged that demanding bundle of nerves. At the same time, the hand clamped around my breast flexed, brushing pebbled nipple to rough palm.

And that was all it took.

I came against the hot head of his erection, muffling a moan with my hand. My hips bucked involuntarily as the orgasm fluttered through me, curling my toes and contracting every muscle in my body.

Congratulations, me. It was a new low. Orgasming on a sleeping man’s cock. It was basically assault.

“Mmm. You okay, Angel?” Nash asked sleepily, his face buried in my hair, lips brushing my neck.

Well, hell. He was awake. There was no way I could just casually mop up his crotch now.

“Yep,” I squeaked. “Totally fine. Just a…charley horse.” In my vagina, I added silently.

It took a beat, but Nash tensed behind me again. Which caused that talented erection to poke me in the clit again.

The whimper clawed its way up my throat.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry,” Nash said, scrambling away from me under the covers. “I didn’t mean—”

“You know what? I think I’ll take a rain check on breakfast,” I said in a high-pitched voice that sounded like my mother’s I’m-pretending-I’m-not-upset-even-though-it’s-clear-I-am-upset tone. I rolled twice to get to the edge of the bed and tried to sit up.

But I didn’t make it that far.

Nash grabbed a fistful of T-shirt and pulled me back.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Mortified, I hooked my fingers over the edge of the mattress and hung on. “I’m totally fine. I just really need to go away now.”

“Angel, please look at me,” Nash begged. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you like that.”

He rolled me onto my back and pinned me with one hand. I saw the moment he realized his dick was out. His spectacular, girthy, ten out of ten dick.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” His other hand slipped down between us and yanked the waistband of his underwear up over his erection.

My cheeks were so hot I could have fried eggs on them if I knew how to.

“Oh my God. What are you sorry for?” I said, slapping my hands to my flaming cheeks.

“I promised I wouldn’t do…that,” he said. He was so angry, so horrified, I couldn’t let him take the blame.

His mouth was apologizing—unnecessarily—to me, but I was paying more attention to his cock and the fact that it seemed to be having a tough time getting interested in going soft.

I moved my hands from my cheeks to his. “Nash. I was the one who invaded your side. You were a sleep gentleman. I promise. I woke up a few minutes ago and I was the one who didn’t immediately remove my body from your body’s vicinity.”

His muscles lost some of their rigidity. “You came to me? In your sleep?”

I’d also come on him in his sleep.

“Where’s Piper?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“In her dog bed with one of my socks,” he said without looking. “Back to you turning into a cuddler in my bed.”

“I didn’t turn into a cuddler! I was probably just trying to claim my usual spot in the middle and maybe we got tangled up or whatever. I don’t know. Let’s not overthink this. Or discuss it ever again. Just let me slink away in embarrassment and we’ll forget the whole thing ever happened.”

He shifted his weight over me, careful to keep his morning wood from touching me. Which if he’d known what had happened two minutes ago, he’d realize was a moot point.

He brushed my cheek lightly with his knuckles, forcing me to question my status as a non-swooner.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

God, early-morning Nash was cute. His hair was a mess and his stubble gave him just a hint of rakish charm to offset the good guy vibe. He had a pillow crease under his left eye. Not to mention that sleepy, earnest look on his gorgeous face.

“Besides being embarrassed at my dreamland defilement of you, I’m fine,” I assured him.

“You slept?” he pressed.

“I did. How about you?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“How do you feel?” I asked.

The curve of his lips was undeniably sexy. “Pretty fucking great.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Thanks to you.” In a lightning-quick move, he dropped a kiss to my forehead, then hopped out of bed. “Omelets in ten,” he said, heading toward the bathroom. “Oh, and, Angel?”

I rolled to my elbow. “Yeah?”

“If you try to leave, I’ll personally deliver it. Loudly.”