And just when I reach the point where I need Nash to either stop or move forward, he pounces-quick, and powerful. I find myself on my back, Nash shoving my knees wider to make way for his thighs. "Gotta fuck you again, my queen." He thrusts into me.
I gasp at the power of the drive. My mouth opens with a cry, head falling back, chin arched to the ceiling.
And then he's driving hard again. The king of beasts, plowing his way home.
Lights explode behind my eyes. I'm suspended in time-hurled into an explosion of carnal pleasure. I think the snarling sound comes from me, but I can't be sure. The room shakes with our roars, bed slamming against the wall.
He fucks me way too hard, but I love every second of it. I crave this pounding contact, need more, more, more.
"Yes, Nash-yes!" I scream. My nails dig into his back, I think I bite him, although I'm not sure where. My eyes flip back in my head and the room spins.
"Nash, oh fates, Nash," I mumble, chanting his name on repeat mode until the swells smooth and I'm floating on a still, quiet bed of blankets.
Nash crashes beside me, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his light brown chest hair curls. I trace the tattoos across his chest. He turns into me and strokes a hand up my side to cup a breast. "Keep saying my name like that, my queen, and I'll never let you out of this bed."
Nash
MY WORLD-NO, my entire universe-just shifted and rearranged. This is where I belong. In Denali's bed. Satisfying my mate.
Except I have nothing to offer her but a ruined animal and a male who fights with his fists for his dinner.
Still, my beast kneads his paws, a new strength pouring through my veins. Just being with Denali, mating with her again, revives my tattered spirit. I don't know why I need my mate so much, but I do. It's the first time I've lifted my head and looked around since I broke out of the lab. No, since before Afghanistan.
Denali doesn't look at me, caught in her own musings.
Fates-I have no clue what she thinks of all this. Our physical attraction is undeniable, yes. But while she appears content, she's not giving off the let's move in together and play house energy. No, she's definitely giving off a solitary lioness vibe. More like, thanks for the orgasms, catch ya on the flip side.
I should give her space.
No space, my lion growls. Don't let her out of your sight again.
But that's crazy. I'm not a stalker. Okay, yeah, I just chased her up a hill and tackled her to the ground, but I couldn't help myself.
And that's precisely why I need to give her space. My lion is not well. I'm dangerous. And I definitely don't want to fuck this up.
I sit up and roll off the bed, recalling that she had to leave by 4 p. m.
DENALI
"WHAT TIME IS IT?" I reach for my phone and get a chill. It's almost 4 p. m. "I have to go." I rise and grab my shorts.
"I know." Nash bends over to tie his boots, gorgeous muscles glowing in the lazy afternoon light. There's a heaviness to his tone that makes my chest tight.
He knows what I'm going to say.
So I say it. "Yeah. You should go." I face the wall as I shrug on a shirt, wincing at how cold I sound. "I'm sorry. I have a life. A job."
I barely hear a step before he's at my back. "This isn't over, Denali."
My heart lurches and skids. Of course not. It's too much to ask, to share one more afternoon and then part ways.
"I'm late. I have to go. Please, Nash." I turn to plead with him.
His expression is shuttered. He nods.
"It's probably not a good idea for you to come back."
Well, that came out sounding wishy-washy. Because my lioness is scrambling my brain. She doesn't want him to walk away. I'm not even sure I want him to walk away. But I definitely need to proceed with caution. It's not just about me. I have Nolan to protect.
His frown tells me he doesn't agree.
"Walk me to the door?"
He escorts me with a hand on my back. Ever the gentleman. He had manners, even when we were trapped in a cell.
"So where do you live? How can I get in touch?"
"I'm in San Diego. Not far. I'll give you my number."
I enter his phone number into my cell. He doesn't ask for mine in return, but if he found me here, he probably already has it. "It was good to see you." I mean it. As troubled as I am by his appearance, I also hate saying goodbye. I lock the door. "I've got to run." I kiss him on the cheek-and jog to my car. Somehow he arrives before me, and opens the door.
I get in and focus on turning on the car, ignoring him as he leans over me. "I'm sorry," I repeat. "But I'm late. I really have to go."
I pull out of the drive, leaving him standing there, watching me go. Everything in me wants to turn back, run into his arms, tell him everything.
I shake my head, and the flower falls out of my hair. Somehow in all our lovemaking, it hung on. Until now. It lies on the floor, battered but still beautiful. Like the lion I left. A brutal fighter with a sick animal. My mate.
What the hell am I going to do?