Hard Pass (St. Louis Mavericks 3)

Always.

Right?

“Take the last bite,” Nash said, scraping the last of the raclette off the plate and onto a piece of baguette.

My mouth opened before I could stop it and he popped the whole thing inside. I caught myself before closing my lips around his fingers, but it was almost too late. Our eyes met and the strike of lightning that flashed between us was impossible to miss.

I swallowed, reaching for my wine glass and downing what was left. I was absolutely not supposed to be flirting with Nash.

“You should tell me what you were thinking just now,” he said under his breath.

“I don’t think so.” My face felt hot as he looked at me. I wasn’t sure if it was him or the wine making me feel this way, but damn, I would have given anything in that moment for him to touch me. The way he watched me told me he was thinking something similar, but neither of us seemed willing to make the first move.

Thank god.

The waiter refilled my glass and I took another sip, trying to still the wild beating of my heart. Why was he affecting me this way? I didn’t like feeling so out of control, but months of hurt and rejection and stress had caught up to me. It was nice to be around someone so sexy who was also attentive. Someone who made me feel wanted. I wasn’t insecure about myself, or my looks in general, but Theo had put a few nicks in the armor of my pride, and Mo had been right that it might be time to let my hair down.

The eight of us at our table finished off three bottles of wine before our main courses arrived, and I was pretty tipsy. We’d all taken Ubers from the arena, so I wasn’t worried about driving, though I’d have to figure out how to get home if I didn’t sober up soon in the next couple of hours.

“How’s the steak?” Nash asked when our meals arrived.

“It’s fantastic. Want a bite?” I’d just cut a piece and I offered it to him on my fork.

He opened his mouth and closed his lips around the tines of the fork, eyes never leaving mine as he slowly pulled away.

It might have been the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.

How was eating steak sexy? I wondered.

But with Nash it was.

Shit.

“That’s delicious,” he said, his voice a little lower and raspier than usual.

“Right?” I tried to counter by making mine light and nonchalant, but it was impossible. The chemistry between us tonight was practically tangible and the more we drank, the easier it became to allow myself to enjoy it.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Nash said quietly, his mouth a fraction of an inch away from my ear.

“Th-thank you.” I swallowed, turning to look at him.

He stared at me for a beat too long before asking, “Would you like to dance after we eat?”

“Yes.”

Oh, fuck yes.

Chapter Eighteen

Nash

* * *

“Where do we go from here?” I asked Sariah, my arousal making it hard to think straight.

The crowd at the club had thinned and we were two of the only people left. We’d had a couple more drinks as the night went on, but mostly we’d danced. When the music was on, we were on the floor together, our bodies finding an unspoken rhythm.

The DJ was done for the night now, and Sariah was standing across from me at a small high-top table, her cheeks flushed and her chest damp with sweat from dancing. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

“I don’t know,” she said, a note of apology in her tone. “I mean, tonight has been great, but there’s someone I really like and even though I think he just ghosted me…I’m in a weird place. And we work together. I like you, but I love my job, and I also need it.”

I smiled as she continued talking herself in and out of taking things further with us. Her indecision was sexy as hell. Sariah was a smart woman who didn’t act on impulse. She didn’t have stars in her eyes over me, but I knew she wanted me every bit as much as I wanted her. I’d seen her nipples pebbled under her top as we danced, and I’d felt her soft exhales every time I put my hand on her hip.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it,” she reasoned, still debating with herself. “We both would, but—”

“Sariah,” I said, stopping her. “Your place or mine?”

Her gaze locked with mine, her eyes glazed with desire. “Mine.”

I took out my wallet and threw down enough cash to cover our drinks plus a tip, then took her hand and practically ran for the door, weaving around the chairs that had been left pulled out from tables.