You Own My Heart (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake 4)

“She reminds you of yourself.”

Honey nodded. “My mom…” She shrugged, and it looked like she was struggling for the right words. “My mom wasn’t a bad person, although for the longest time, I thought she was. Just like Brooke, I thought she was a loser.” She walked toward the large window in the living area, the one that looked out over the parking lot. It was frosted and rattled as another sheet of ice hit it.

“God, some of the things I said to her. Vile, hurtful things. And to her face. She just took it because she was used to taking shit from people.” A pause. “She did some bad things. Some inexcusable things.” Honey spoke slowly, as if she were remembering. “But her heart wasn’t black, you know? At least that’s what I believe. She wasn’t strong, and life beat her down. She made bad choices and did bad things but…” Honey rested her forehead on the windowpane. “I still remember how she used to brush my hair. I remember her smile and touch…the way she smelled like flowers. I remember the pink wallpaper. The baby squirrel she handfed.” A few moments passed. “It died. The squirrel. And we buried it in the backyard. A bad person doesn’t bury a small baby squirrel.” Her voice was now a whisper. “A bad person doesn’t dance in the rain or smell like flowers.”

“No,” Nash replied. “I think you’re right about that.”

The air was charged, it seemed. An invisible energy that electrified and slid across his skin with a heat that was unmistakable. It took everything in him not to go to her. Not to put his arms around her and hold her so close, he’d absorb her pain.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she said turning around to face him.

He nodded. His mouth was dry at the look on her face, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he wanted to.

“Do you think your family will mind if…” Her voice trailed off, but she didn’t look away.

He managed to get his shit together. “If what?”

Her eyes shone up at him, and damn if Nash Booker didn’t feel his heart skip. It was like he was fifteen all over again, standing in front of Beth Sanders with his heart in his hand and a hope as big as the Grand Canyon.

“If you stayed here, with me…” She licked her lips, and her eyes dropped. There was no mistaking where her thoughts were going.

The thing was, he wanted this more than anything, but they’d been pussyfooting around the same dance for weeks now. “I’m done playing games, Honey.” He took a step forward. “I want to stay. I want you naked, and I want to be inside you. I want to fuck you slow and hard and watch you come because I made it happen. But the back-and-forth and the second-guessing has to stop. If we’re going to do this, let’s just do this. Throw the dice and see what happens. No trying to reel in whatever this is. No putting it in some damn box we have no name for and pretending it never happened.”

Honey seemed to consider that for a few moments. Then she walked toward him and, without saying another word, slid her hands up along his body until they hooked around his neck. She rested her cheek against his chest, and slowly, his arms encircled her. He held her close. He absorbed her pain. He ignited her passion.

The night had barely begun, and already, Nash thought that maybe this was the best Christmas Eve he’d ever had. There had been giving and receiving. And there would be lots more to come.

Wasn’t that what Christmas was all about?

15

Honey could have spent all night standing in her living room, held tight in Nash’s embrace. He was large and warm, and he smelled so damn good, it was heaven to be there. Heaven to feel his hardness against her. To hear his heartbeat strong and steady in her ear.

And yet there were other things at work spreading heat throughout her body until every single nerve ending was on fire. Until that slow throb between her legs became too persistent to ignore. Until her nipples hardened, and she squirmed against him. Was she really going to do this? Again?

When had she ever been the kind of girl to see where the chips would fall?

Honey Harrison didn’t trust a soul. She planned everything. Looked ahead, saw three different outcomes, and made the one she wanted to happen, happen. She looked at life as if it were a game, because up until now, it had been. A game of running before she got caught. Outsmarting before she was found out. Breaking hearts before her own got broken.

Crystal Lake had been an outcome, one she’d wholeheartedly embraced. And yet, nothing had turned out as she wanted. No one was who or what she’d expected, and that had thrown her off her game. That had led her here, to a moment with Nash she hadn’t seen coming.

Her surrender.

For once in her life, she was going to act simply on feeling—on feeding the void inside her, an empty space only Nash seemed able to fill.

With a groan, she raised her head and found those dark, fathomless eyes on her. They looked black in the low light. Sexy. Mysterious. His lips were parted, and the sight of his tongue made the throb between her legs ache even more. Before the night was through, those lips, that tongue, would kiss the ache and drive her over the edge.

As for right now? She led Nash toward the sofa and pushed him gently until he fell backward. He was dressed casually. Jeans. Dark blue Henley. She knelt in front of him and tugged on the edge of his shirt. He leaned forward a bit and raised his arms. She pulled it off in one deft move and tossed it on the floor behind them. Next, she reached for her T-shirt, and it joined his in less than two seconds. Her breasts were free, the nipples hard pebbles, invitations to touch.

But not for Nash. Not yet.

She grinned as he squirmed in his seat and swore as she circled the dusky rose flesh with her fingers before letting her right hand slide down into the front of her pajama bottoms.

His eyes were riveted to her crotch as she touched herself. “Do you want to see?” she asked, her voice husky and thick with passio

n.

He swore, something she didn’t quite get, and smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Honey got to her feet and stepped out of her pants, moving so that she stood between his legs—she wanted him to see exactly what she was doing.