Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 26

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

NASH

The sound of the shower running in the background startles me. Opening my eyes, I glance around and realize that I’m at home, in my bedroom, but I wonder who the fuck could be in the shower. Then it all comes back to me.

It’s James.

My James.

And then I grunt as I attempt to pull up to sitting. A sharp pane slides throughout my body. It really fucking comes back to me then. Sonofabitch. I was stabbed, then had surgery, and spent way too much fucking time lying in a hospital bed.

The water turns off, and I curse myself because all I want to do is strip down and join James in the shower. Another thing that this motherfucker took from me. When the door to the bathroom opens, I see her standing there.

She’s wearing a pair of tight leggings and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair is wet and freshly combed. Her face perfectly clean of any traces of makeup. “You’re awake.”

“I am,” I murmur, my voice sounding much hoarser than I expect.

Clearing my throat, I let out a slight cough, then force myself up a bit more. I close my eyes when a grunt escapes. James moves away from the door and slowly walks toward me. Goddamn, she’s sexy. She’s not trying to be. She just is.

This woman is sexy as fuck, and she’s mine.

All mine.

I watch as she climbs onto the bed, her knees spreading as she straddles my thighs. I feel her palms press against my chest as I tip my head back to look up at her. The back of my head hits the headboard, and I let out a grunt.

“Nash,” she whispers.

Shaking my head once, I clear my throat again. “Nashville,” I state.

Her eyes widen, then she leans forward, and her lips touch mine before she whispers my real name.

“ Nashville .”

My cock twitches at the sound of my full name on her lips. “Nashville,” she repeats the word.

Fuck me.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to stop saying my name unless you’re gonna ride me.”

She curls her fingers around the side of my neck, tipping her chin so that her eyes meet mine. Grabbing ahold of her waist, I grip her there tightly. She lets out a heavy sigh. Then her lips curve up into a smile.

“Your family is just a few feet away,” she warns.

I snort. “You think I give a fuck?”

Without another word, she leans forward until her mouth touches mine again. I feel her tongue slip inside of me, tasting me. I would give everything to James. Anything and everything she could ever dream of is hers. I’m that fucking in love with her.

James nibbles on my bottom lip as she breaks the kiss. “Food first. Then sex.”

She climbs off me, shooting me a bright smile as if she wasn’t just straddling me, making me so fucking horny that I can’t see straight. I have never felt this before, and in the midst of all this chaos, there is still her.

“Nashville?” she asks, her eyes searching mine, and her expression turns serious.

I haven’t processed exactly what happened, but I’m doing that right now. “You saved me,” I rasp. She shakes her head, but I don’t let her speak. I continue. “You walked into that room like a woman fucking possessed, and you saved me.”

“That wasn’t my plan. To go in there and do that,” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

Then I watch as something flashes across her face. I can’t read it, but her mood has instantly shifted. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I grip the sheets and hold on as I plant my feet flat on the floor.

I have to hype myself up to stand, knowing that it’s going to fucking hurt when I do. I’m hoping that in a few days, this won’t be as goddamn painful, but my pain meds have worn off, and I’m sore as shit.

“My plan was to hand myself over,” she whispers.

Widening my eyes, I tilt my head to the side. “What changed?” I ask.

Because something did. I know it. She’s no longer talking about leaving. She no longer has one foot out the door. She is here, she is with me, and we’ve been talking about the future. I want to hear it from her.

“He hurt you,” she says. “He was going to kill you. I couldn’t let him do that to you. Too many people care about you, Nash.”

My heart squeezes at her words. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? “But you were willing to let him take you from me? Don’t you think that would have hurt me?” I ask.

She shakes her head, her eyes watering. “I would have been okay with that. There’s someone better for you out there.”

The anger consumes me in an instant. It fills me so goddamn quickly that my vision goes from normal to seeing nothing but a deep shade of red. Her words piss me off, but not as much as the fact that she fucking believes them.

“I need you to turn around and walk out of this room. Right now.”

James’s breath hitches. Pinching my eyes closed, I tip my head, refusing to look up at her. I can’t. I cannot see her right now, or I’m going to do something that I’ll supremely regret. I used to be a man who flew off the handle, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that isn’t the best way to handle things.

I’m about to fly off the goddamn handle.

I need to breathe.

JAMES

I leave the bedroom, and my feet carry me as quickly as possible into the hallway. What I don’t do is rush to the kitchen. I can smell food cooking, but I’m too upset to even identify what it could be. Nash is pissed at me. He’s angry that I was going to go with the Southern Mafia.

But he had to know that was my plan.

Right?

That or just running away and hiding. And honestly, I was going with the running-and-hiding scenario until they took Nash. I’m not sure what to do now. The panic has set in, and I find it hard to breathe. The air in this house is suddenly stifling.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, I make my way toward the back door. Thankfully, King is nowhere to be found, Shawn is in the kitchen, and the two boys are still playing in the living room, so I am able to slip outside unnoticed.

But I don’t sink down into the very comfortable-looking outdoor sofa. Instead, I move toward the side of the house, where I can’t be easily found or seen. I just need to be alone for a moment, maybe even cry a little.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the side of the house and breathe. I try really hard not to cry. I’m tired of crying, completely over it, actually. If I never cry again, it will be too soon. This whole experience has exhausted me to the point where I am dead tired.

I don’t know how long I stay outside, leaning against the wall with my eyes closed, but it’s long enough that I hear a deep, raspy voice call out my name. I don’t move. Then my name is called again.

I know it’s him.

I feel the zing that slides down my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

But I don’t move. I can’t. I’m frozen where I am. It’s not just because he’s mad at me. It’s more because I’m afraid he’s going to say that I’m just not worth the headache. And the simple matter of the fact is that I’m not. I’m not worth any of this. I never was.

“James,” his voice calls out again, this time a bit more impatient than the last.

Then I hear the sound of crunching leaves beneath his feet. Turning my head, I open my eyes and watch as he rounds the corner. Nash stands in front of me. He looks tired as hell. His face is pinched, probably because he’s in pain.

“What the fuck, sweetheart?” he asks on a heavy sigh.

“You didn’t want to see me,” I whisper.

He shuffles toward me and only stops when he’s directly in front of me. His tired blue eyes meet mine as one hand rests against the side of the house, likely propping up his tired and sore body. The other lifts, cupping my cheek, and his thumb slides across my bottom lip.

“Do you understand why I was initially pissed off?” he asks, his voice deceptively calm, but his eyes are alight with barely controlled anger.

“No,” I whisper.

He inhales, then exhales slowly. Then he dips his chin ever so slightly, his gaze still focused on my own. “First of all, I wanted you out of my sight because I didn’t want to say something out of anger that I would regret.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stay quiet as I wait for whatever he’s going to say next, and he does continue. He moves just a slight bit closer to me, and I can feel the heat from his body against mine. I want to feel his weight, too. His naked weight. And I want to feel him inside of me, stretching me, consuming me—fucking me.

“I’ve had a bit to cool off, to stop seeing red, and now I want you to know that it pissed me off that you were going to make a decision for me. I’m not a man who likes having decisions made for him.”

“How?” I ask.

He shifts his face even closer, his mouth touching mine, but he doesn’t deepen the kiss. Then he speaks in a barely-there whisper that sends goose bumps up and down my whole body. “You were going to take this from me. You were going to take you from me. That’s not fucking okay with me, sweetheart.”

My breath hitches at his words.

Then, before I can respond, his tongue slips into my mouth, and he tastes me.

Consuming me.

Owning me.

All of me.

This man owns me, mind, body, and soul.

I kiss him back, my tongue tangling with his, and he shifts closer, his body pressing against mine. I feel his hard length against my belly, and I can’t hold back the moan that crawls up my throat.

“Papa,” a little voice calls out. “It’s time for dinner.”

Nash breaks the kiss with a grunt, then lifts his head, looks to the side, and lets out a heavy sigh. “We’ll be right in.”

I hear loud little footsteps run away from us and then the door to the house opens and closes. Then Nash turns to me, his eyes find mine, and he holds my gaze for a long moment. Wordlessly, he takes a step backward, extending his arm out to me, his palm facing up.

“Come inside, James.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip. There is nowhere else I would ever want to be than with him. So, slipping my hand inside his as he tugs me behind him toward the door is exactly where I not only want to be but need to be.

We go inside the house together and sit down at the small dinner table to a beautiful meal made by Shawn. A meal that is shared as a family. Because that’s what we are, the six of us—a family. And it’s the most beautiful moment I’ve ever been part of.