Free Fall: an MMF romance (Wilde Boys Book 2) Page 9

  “I hope Nash isn’t giving you too much trouble,” she says with a bright smile as she takes a sip of her drink.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” I reply, but when I glance back at Nash, I notice a softness in his expression as he looks at her. I had a suspicion he still harbored feelings for the girl who was once his, the one who slipped out of his grasp, and I remember how he told me in Amsterdam he would have never made a good boyfriend for her then, but I can’t help but wonder what it is that exists between them now. It’s like a strange combination of family, friends, and ex-lovers.

  We all take our seats and immediately I regret the way it happens. Alistair is next to his wife. Hanna is sitting next to me, and Nash sits alone at the head of the table. There’s a clench to his jaw, and his fists are so tight around his drink they’re blanched white at the knuckles.

  Zara puts her hand through Alistair’s fingers as the girls go on about Zara’s dance studio.

  “How is the acquisition going?” Alistair asks me, talking aside from the women. Nash takes a drink, looking away from his father, as if he’s actively avoiding that question. As if it doesn’t bother him his father didn’t direct the question to him.

  “You said no work talk,” Zara complains. She runs her hands through his hair, and I glare at her. Does she know what she’s doing? Sure, Nash is okay with them being together, but he’s still struggling with the physical touch between them. How do they not see that?

  Because he puts up a wall, hides it all…just like Hanna does.

  “You’re talking about work,” Alistair argues softly.

  “That’s different.” Her eyes dance over to Nash, and I want to scream. The messages are all wrong. She’ll touch Alistair in front of him, but pretend she’s protecting him from the stress of talking work with his overbearing father. The boundaries are all wrong here, and it’s making me crazy.

  Just then, I feel Hanna’s hand run along my back, and I stiffen, my eyes immediately bolting over to Nash to see his reaction. He seems to be too busy sipping down his vodka soda with lime to care.

  “So, Ellis told me he used to work here years ago when Nash was just a kid,” Hanna says.

  Zara laughs. “So, what was Nash like as a child?”

  “That’s what I asked,” Hanna replies. They’re all looking at me, and I try to keep a casual expression on my face, remembering how I answered this question three days ago. I had said he’s the same spoiled brat now he was then.

  But when I glance at him, I see a man in the margins. Shoved out of the only relationship he’s ever been in. No significant other, no friend, no brother. It’s enough to remind me he’s not as tough as he lets the world believe. And I feel instant regret over the way I answered the question before.

  “He was a good kid,” I say with a shrug.

  His eyes snap up to me, and instead of looking pleased with me, he stares daggers at me, his brow furrowed with anger.

  “He was the good one,” Alistair adds, taking the attention of the table, well everyone except from Nash who is still seething with his eyes on me. It’s not so obvious everyone else will notice it, but I do.

  “It was Preston who was the troublemaker.” Bringing up Nash’s late brother seems to be the only thing that draws his glare away from me. He nods his head at his father as they both share a subtle, silent moment.

  Then, Zara winds her fingers in Alistair’s and when he looks at her, she leans up to plant a kiss on his lips.

  “He may not have been a troublemaker when he was a kid, but he certainly is now,” Zara says as she looks over at him with a soft smile.

  I know she thinks she’s being friendly with him, and with the way he smiles back at her, it’s obvious she’s buying his front. But I see what they don’t.

  Nash is holding onto something. And it grates on my nerves.

  “Well, being a troublemaker makes him a great CEO. I don’t think I’ve ever seen business in such good shape when I get to a job.”

  Again, he glares at me because speaking kindly of him when he so clearly wants me to hate him as much as he hates me is enough to set him off. He thinks I’m fucking with him.

  “He cares about his company and not in dollar signs. He loves his job because this company means everything to him,” I add.

  “What Nash needs is to learn to let go of some responsibility. He has control issues. He knows that,” Alistair adds, taking a bite from his sandwich.

  There’s a short moment of silence as I look around at the table, trying to bite my tongue. Trying, but failing.

  “Yeah. He does. But it’s pretty clear he has trust issues.” The words slip out of my mouth, and I feel the tension land like a brick against the table. His eyes squint as he levels his glare at me. Meanwhile, Zara is staring down at her lunch, pushing around her food while chewing on her inner lip.

  No one will dare to argue Nash doesn’t have trust issues. They can’t argue because they were the ones who instilled them. He can feed me all the bullshit about it being consensual and how he was the one to let her go, but I see it for what it is. He gave her up because she fell in love with his father more than she fell in love with him.

  It’s quiet for a moment, and I already know Alistair will have words for me, but I don’t give a shit. It’s like I’m the only one who sees things clearly here, and it’s infuriating.

  “We need more drinks,” Hanna says, breaking the tension.

  “I’ll get them,” I snap, standing quickly and grabbing their glasses. When I get inside, I slam them against the bar top a little too hard. They don’t break, but I almost wish they had.

  What the fuck is happening to me? It’s like the feelings I’ve been ignoring for the past three years are bubbling up as if they never really went away. I pushed away everything that happened with Nash. I thought I could get past it, but when I see him at that table, struggling with his pain alone, the pain of accepting what we did in Amsterdam on top of it, I feel so fucking unsettled, I want to break something.

  I rinse out the glasses and refill them with ice when I see Nash come inside, shutting the patio door behind him. He’s fuming, nostrils flaring and brow angsty and folded in.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, trying my best to look unbothered.

  “This is none of your fucking business. So, stay out of it!”

  I drop the ice bucket on the counter with a bang. “You’re right. It is none of my business. I’m just an outsider, Nash, and I wasn’t there when all of this happened, but I was there after it happened. I remember how terrified you were that I’d leave you too. Do you remember begging me to stay?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

  “I picked up the pieces in Amsterdam. I tried to give you what they couldn’t, something I knew you wanted, and do you know what you did to me in return, Nash? You broke my fucking heart!”

  He flinches, his eyes going wide, and it takes a moment before he reacts, stomping toward me and shoving me back until we’re in the hallway behind the kitchen. Out of view of the party, he holds me against the wall, his hand pressed firmly against my chest.

  “I swear to God if you don’t drop that shit, I’m going to send your ass packing off this fucking island, do you hear me?”

  I brush him away easily. “I’m already gone. I can’t stay here, not with you.” When I try to move out of his grasp, his hand lands against my chest again and this time when he shoves me against the wall, his eyes are trained on my face, wild and…terrified.

  “I never should have come here. You’re even more fucked up than—” He stops my words with his mouth, crashing against mine. Grabbing onto his neck, I devour his touch, his mouth, the warm velvet sensation of his tongue as it sweeps past my lips. A low groan shudders through me as I latch onto him, feeling him fist my shirt in his hand.

  “Quiet,” he whispers, his hand reaching for my pants, gripping my cock through these thin, l
inen trousers. “I fucking hate you,” he mutters as he quickly pulls down the zipper and reaches inside, wrapping his hand around me and sending my mind far away where it can’t think, only feel.

  The harder I squeeze his neck, the tighter his fist strangles my dick. Pulling away from our kiss, he looks down at what he’s doing, and I watch as he spits on the head, using it as lube as he strokes me, fast.

  “You don’t hate me,” I whisper, grabbing his dick through his shorts, but he swats my hand away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Keeping up his assault on my cock, my breathing starts to stutter. Just when I feel myself start to build up, I grab him by the throat and look him in the eye.

  Realization dawns like a cruel monster, intent on destroying everything good that comes our way. Nash wants me to lose control. He wants to have me vulnerable, to feel the way he did, helpless to this desire. It’s why he won’t let me touch him. Why he fights me, denies everything, blames me for it all. He wants me to foot the bill for everything he wants.

  I don’t lose control. And I don’t do vulnerable.

  My build-up recedes, and with my hand on his throat, I shove Nash down. He fights me at first until he can no longer deny what he wants, dropping to his knees and staring straight ahead at the red, engorged cock in front of him.

  “Open up,” I mutter, and he looks up at me, the boiling hatred still obvious in his eyes.

  Then he does. Slowly he lets his tongue roll out of his open mouth, letting me drop the head of my dick against the warmth of it.

  “Still hate me?” I ask as I slide the small beads of pre-cum against the surface. Then, I slide myself in, and he closes his lips around me like he’s been dying to do it again. A tingle slides its way up my spine remembering the first time he did this. How fucking hot he was, taking my dick in his mouth. So nervous and unsure. So turned on he had to stroke himself at the same time.

  “Do you, Nash? Do you still hate me?”

  I nearly hit the back of his throat as he practically swallows my cock, but he doesn’t let up. He starts bobbing up and down almost angrily, but he won’t look up at me anymore, practically suffocating himself. When his eyes start to water, I run my hands through his long hair, pulling his head back so he can look up at me.

  “Those tears tell me all I need to know.”

  With my hands buried in his hair, I fuck his mouth, five or six hard strokes until I shoot down the back of his throat.

  When he pulls away, he wipes his mouth, staring blankly ahead as I stuff myself back into my pants.

  Neither of us says a word for a moment until he stands, glaring at me with something new. Not anger, but resignation.

  Surrender.

  Defeat.

  “I’m sorry shit is complicated, Nash. I’m sorry the last time you were in love, you had your heart broken, but I’m not sorry you are the way you are. And I’m not sorry about anything that’s happened between us, so if you want me to apologize, then you can fuck off.”

  Leaving him there, I turn away and head back down the hallway that leads to the kitchen, but the moment I reach the room, I stop, frozen in place as I stare at Hanna, who is watching me with wide eyes, heartbreak written all over her face.

  13

  Oh my God. I just happened to catch Nash pushing Ellis down the hall, and I only came in hoping to diffuse the situation, but what I ended up overhearing was definitely not a fight. It was most definitely the sound of Nash choking on Ellis’s…

  Fuck, I’m such an idiot. How did I not see this? I threw myself at Ellis, and I wondered why he didn’t want me back. Now, I know it’s just because he’s…

  And Nash? Is he?

  Thoughts are firing off in my mind, the sounds of him and Nash replaying in my head, the words he said to him.

  “Hanna,” Ellis states so clearly I don’t know if he’s announcing my presence or making a plea.

  Out of everything going on in my head right now, not one thing is what I should say. Instead, I turn on my heels and rush out of the room toward the patio. I don’t get far before his hand is latched onto my arm.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “Don’t apologize to me,” I snap, glaring up at him with fire in my eyes. “You could have told me. You didn’t have to lead me on.”

  “Lead you on? You were the one throwing yourself at me.”

  With a scoff, I tear my arm away. I don’t want to be mad at Ellis, but my anger boils, threatening to spill over. Why am I so mad at him all of a sudden? Because he let me make a fool of myself. He let me kiss him, try to fuck him, and he could have spoken up at any moment.

  Before going to the patio, I snatch the two drinks off the bar and rush out the door. As I reach the patio, Zara and Alistair are still sitting at the table, both engrossed in their phones.

  “Everything okay?” she asks immediately, noticing the serious expression on my face.

  “Yep,” I lie.

  I should leave. I know that now. I should leave with them right now, and I won’t have to face my humiliation anymore. I can run from this easily too. I found myself wanting Ellis so desperately after such a short time, and not in the same way I’ve wanted other men. I wanted him because with him I feel safe and wanted, but apparently that was one-sided because not only is he interested in someone else, but that person is Nash.

  Nash.

  I really don’t need to be around him anymore either. That strange encounter the other day is branded into my brain, and it’s not exactly a memory of him I’d like to keep. The moment Zara stepped foot on the island, guilt stained my mind. How could I look at her, laugh with her, pretend everything was fine when just a few days ago, her Nash had his head buried between my thighs.

  “Sure you’re okay? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind?”

  “I’m really fine,” I say. “I just—”

  At that moment, Nash steps outside, slamming the door with a little too much force. His eyes meet mine instantly, and the eye contact feels like an attack. I know what he did. He knows I know, and instead of looking embarrassed or ashamed, he looks furious.

  “I have to get back to work.” Without so much as a goodbye, he marches over to the office, leaving us all sitting there in confusion.

  “Nash,” Alistair calls.

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Zara says, and I don’t know why, but for the first time in our friendship, I feel the hot sting of jealousy.

  “Let me,” I bark, standing up too quickly.

  The look she gives me is a mix of shock and hurt. To her, Nash and I have always been barely friends, only really related through her, and now I’m taking her place, pushing her aside to have him to myself.

  I have never felt a sense of protectiveness simmer to the surface the way it is right now.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say carefully, trying to force on a fake smile.

  “We should probably get going,” Alistair replies. “If he’s in a mood, there’s nothing she can say to get him to come back out. In fact, I think he’s been in a shitty mood all day.”

  Zara won’t take her eyes off me, but when her husband puts his hand on her leg, she relaxes. “He’s still working too hard,” she whispers.

  “None of us are going to be able to talk him out of that,” Alistair replies. “I was the same way when I was his age.”

  I can still see Zara’s urge to go to him, so I quickly distract the conversation. “I’m so glad you came out. It was nice to see someone else for once. All these boys do is work, so I’ve gotten a lot of alone time.”

  “That’s good. I hope they’re not bothering you too much,” Alistair adds.

  “Not at all.”

  As they stand up, Zara comes to me first, wrapping me up in a hug. A moment later, Ellis emerges from the house. “Sorry about that. I got caught up on a call. Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah, we have to get back to the baby.”

  The men shake hands with a clap on the shoulder, and I sense t
he tension between them. I know it’s because of the awkward conversation at lunch, but I can’t help but wonder if Alistair has any idea about Ellis or what Ellis has been up to with Nash? Did everyone know about this but me?

  “Thank you again for everything,” I tell the couple as they walk out to the helicopter. The men walk ahead as Zara pulls me back.

  “Do you know what’s gotten into him?” she asks, and I know she’s referring to Nash. I don’t want to lie, but it’s not exactly my secret to tell. So, I swallow everything down and try to answer as honestly as I can without giving too much away.

  “I think he’s having a hard time collaborating with Ellis,” I say, doing my best to sell it. Her mouth twists in concern, but then she levels her gaze on me.

  “Speaking of…” she whispers. “What’s going on there?” Her eyes dance over to where the men are talking, and I’m sure this question was inspired by the intimacy between us at lunch, a reminder I am an idiot and clearly put myself in a stupid situation, making a complete fool of myself.

  “Nothing,” I answer, glancing at him. “We’re just friends.”

  “Just be careful,” she replies, touching a strand of curls that hangs on the side of my head. “I don’t feel right leaving you here with these two. This island does things to you.”

  “I can handle them,” I answer with a laugh. This time the guys look over at us, and we both grin back at them.

  Ellis and I stand together as Zara and Alistair take off, and at the exact moment I feel him turning toward me ready to say something, I give him my shoulder and head toward the office. I need time to cool off, a moment to come down from the initial resentment so I can have a real conversation with him. Like I said, Ellis is the one person here I don’t want to hate.

  He doesn’t follow me to the office. I half-expect him to, but he goes back to the house instead. When I enter the office, I find Nash bent over his laptop again. When his eyes flash up to see me, they soften when he realizes it’s me and not someone else.