Marked Men: Nash Part 12

"It's amazing."

"I keep telling you that so are you. You just aren't listening." He moved to take the painting down and I reached out to stop him.

"Can I have it?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Of course."

It was huge, I had no idea what I was going to do with it, but the idea that that was how he saw me ... s.e.xy, beautiful, and in control ... I didn't want to let it go.

"Nash, let's go somewhere."

"What do you mean? I was just gonna come back to your place with you if that was cool."

I took the painting he offered me and hugged it to my chest.

"I never went on dates in high school, never had a guy try anything funny or get handsy so I could tell him to stop. I didn't kiss my first boy until I was almost twenty years old. I want you to take me somewhere kids go to fool around. This was fun, and I haven't really ever been the type to just let my hair down and have fun. I think parking with you in a car sounds like a blast." It also sounded hot and s.e.xy and would fulfill every teenage fantasy I had ever concocted that involved him.

"Saint, it's cold out, we both have empty apartments, we're both tall, and I'm not anywhere near as small as I was in high school. It might sound fun, but the reality is going to be cold and cramped." He was grinning lightly when he said this, though, and I knew he just needed to be persuaded.

I put one of my hands on the center of his chest, felt his heartbeat steady and sound under my fingertips, and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please, Nash."

He sighed and put a hand under my braid at the back of my neck.

"As long as you realize I probably won't stop at second base and that means your a.s.s is the one that's going to be naked and cold, then I'm in."

I giggled, actually giggled, which I don't think I had ever done before tonight, and kissed him on his scruffy chin.

"Deal."

He put the stuff from our painting party in the trunk, hopefully because he wanted the backseat free ... goody ... and we started to head out of the city kind of toward Brookside.

"Where are we going?"

"Lookout Mountain."

It was just outside Golden and where Buffalo Bill Cody's grave was located. I had heard about it but had never actually seen it. You were supposed to be able to see the entire city from up there.

"Is that where you used to take girls?"

"Uh, no. By the time I knew girls had more going for them than the fact that they smelled good and would do my homework for me if I told them they were pretty, I was pretty much living with Phil full-time. Dude is a player, way worse than Rule or I ever was. I had the house to myself pretty much every night, so when I got the opportunity I just took them home."

"What do you mean 'got the opportunity'?" I remembered girls hanging all over him in high school. It didn't look like he had to work too hard at finding a willing bed partner.

"I hung out with a dude in a band, every chick's idea of the perfect rebel, and the captain of the football team. I was just some guy with a bad att.i.tude that was constantly getting told what a mistake I was at home. I didn't know how to talk to girls that mattered. I had girls floating around that were easy and would put out ... they didn't really care who the guy was. That means they could've been into Rule for the night, or Jet. Opportunity definitely had to play into it."

That was so odd. My perception and the reality of everything back then just seemed so different. I wanted to ask him more about it, but we got to an outcropping of rock that was flat and just long enough and wide enough for him to park the car. He killed the headlights and threw an arm over the back of the seat and looked at me in the now-dim interior of the front seat.

"We can go back to the city. You say the word."

I didn't answer him. I lifted up and wiggled over the back of the seat instead. I pulled off my flannel s.h.i.+rt along the way. He left the car running, but it was still January in Colorado and we were high up in the foothills, so it was brisk in the car and the windows were already fogging up. He watched me for a second and then got out of the car. There was no way he was fitting over the seat like I did, and he pulled his wallet out on the way. He handed me the square foil packet and climbed in, pulling the door shut behind him. He stripped off his hoodie and hat and we sat facing each other.

I thought he would grab me and pull me to him, but a ghost of a smile teased around his mouth and he pushed back his broad shoulders so that he was lounged across the leather seat.

"This is your game, Saint. How do you want to play?"

He was always putting me in the driver's seat, pus.h.i.+ng my limits, making me say what I wanted from him. Maybe that was why I never froze up with him, why I never had to question what was happening between us, because everything that was happening was what I was asking for. There was no room for rejection or judgment that way.

I s.h.i.+vered, and not at all from the cold.

"I want you to kiss me."

He reached out and caught my braid in his hand and used it to reel me in. When our mouths touched, it was so much more than a simple kiss. He tasted like the past and like the future, the then and the now. He felt so strong and solid, but his lips were soft and searching. His skin was rougher than normal, but when he pulled me closer and our noses b.u.mped, the glide of that little piece of metal he wore was smooth. He twirled his tongue with mine, and used his teeth on the plush curve of the inside of my lip. I gasped into the kiss and felt him chuckle. Before, I would have automatically a.s.sumed he was laughing at me. Now I knew he was just amused because it felt that good and he knew it.

My hands were on his chest and I used them to start pulling his s.h.i.+rt up across his flat stomach. He helped by lifting his arms up as much as he could. Considering the confined s.p.a.ce and how broad across he was, it took a little finesse to get the fabric out of my way. Goose b.u.mps danced across his golden skin and I bent my head to trace the ones across his collarbone with the tip of my tongue, which made him grunt.

"Now I want to kiss you."

He was still holding my hair like a rope, so he had to loosen his hold when I ran the flat of my tongue over one of his nipples and then the other.

He swore and muttered, "Headed the wrong direction for that, pretty lady."

I traced the ridges of his defined abs with my fingers and watched in delight as the muscles tensed and flexed along with the caress. It made it look like the wings along his abs were fluttering in the night air.

"No I'm not. I'm a little worried about working around all that metal down there, but I'm definitely headed in the right direction."

He swore again and I started working on his belt buckle. It wasn't something I had done more than once and Nash was working with some heavy-duty equipment, but I was fascinated by it all and wanted to make him feel as good as he always made me feel.

"Just act like it isn't there."

"Why? It might be my favorite part."

He laughed again, but it turned into a groan when he fell out hot and hard into my waiting hands. He was throbbing, thick and anxious, as I hovered over him. I rubbed my thumb over the ring in the tip and his entire body jerked in response. I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding and he muttered my name softly as the moist air caressed his ready flesh.

I dropped my head and pulled the pierced head into my mouth. It was a texture and sensation overload, must have been for him, too, because he bowed up and his hand jerked on my hair hard enough that it hurt a little bit.

"Jesus." No, not quite, just Saint, but I would take it as a sign he liked it.

I rolled the hoop across my tongue, skated down over that hidden barbell and farther down the shaft until I felt like I couldn't take any more. I slid back up and repeated the exact same motion again, only this time I added a hand around the base that I squeezed with my bobbing motion because he was just too much to take in. He said my name again, I felt the legs I was using to brace on tense and his stomach go rock-hard, but right as I was starting to taste the slippery, salty release that would let me know it was a job well done, he pulled at my hair so hard it actually hurt for real and yanked me up and off of him.

He was breathing hard and his eyes were indigo. "If you do that much longer, one of us is gonna end up cold and h.o.r.n.y. Hint, it won't be me."

He started pulling on my stretchy yoga pants. I was super glad I had worn something that was easy to wiggle and twist out of with very little room and big impatient hands getting in my way. He abandoned the bottom half of my outfit and went to work manhandling my tank top off over my head. I had to admit it was gratifying that I could actually feel how ready, how needy, he was for me. That was a powerful mood enhancer, and as soon as I got my panties off over the toe of my sneaker and he had himself covered, he pulled me down over him and we both made a noise that could only be described as animalistic. It was guttural, deep, and we both felt it as we joined together.

I leaned forward a little and he took advantage of my new position by pulling my nipple into his mouth. I felt the tug and pull all the way at my core, just like I felt the way that metal he was wearing pressed insistently against my G-spot. I moved up and down, set a quick and hurried pace because it was cold and because I knew he was already close. It felt amazing; he always knew what do to build the pleasure up, to take me out of myself and just feel, but given the tight quarters, the limited mobility either of us had, I could tell he was holding back, could see the tendons in his neck straining while he waited for me to catch up.

"Nash ..."

"s.h.i.+t, Saint, you're gonna have to help me out here. Give me a hand." Both his hands were occupied helping me maintain the s.e.xy ride up and down without hitting my head on the roof of the car. I glanced down at him and his meaning was clear. Sure, he could have finagled it, let go with one hand, but he was doing it again, pus.h.i.+ng the boundaries I thought I knew were clear.

I didn't even like to admit I touched myself to myself, and he wanted me to do it not only in front of him but while I was on top of him, joined to him. It was a clear challenge, one I should be p.i.s.sed he was throwing down right in the middle of s.e.x that was supposed to be nostalgic and fun, but I wanted to come, wanted him to let go because I could feel it pulsating in him. I loved how ridged and hard he was where he was buried inside me and he was holding on by a thread, forcing me to take one more step out of my comfort zone, trying to obliterate what I thought I knew.

I didn't think, just let the hand that wasn't holding on to the back of the front seat for balance dip between our undulating bodies, between my slick and spread folds, until I was touching that little heart of pleasure that was already sensitized and tight.

"Oh my." It was barely a whisper that was drowned out by his roar of completion, just by watching me do what he asked.

It didn't take much, just a feathery pet, a light stroke of a fingertip and I was shoved right over the edge right behind him. I was a lot quicker about it, but he pulled me across his heaving chest and sealed our mouths together in a kiss that tasted like satisfaction and always.

"That was probably the hottest, most beautiful thing I have ever seen." He sounded gruff and a little winded.

I didn't know what to say to that, never did, so I put my cheek on the hard curve of his pec and told him, "We're getting really good at having s.e.x while you're still wearing your pants."

He laughed drily and ran his hands softly up and down my spine. He didn't call me on it, but I knew it bothered him that I never responded to his compliments. I wasn't sure I was ever going to know how, that we were ever going to see the same person he saw when he looked at me.

CHAPTER 11.

Nash

"Wow, dude, this place ... it's epic."

Rule let out a low whistle as we walked through the empty s.p.a.ce that was going to be the home of the new shop. Time just kept rolling on, and before I knew, months had come and gone and I still hadn't been to the place. Now I felt like a loser because it was epic and it was sandwiched between two of the busiest restaurants in LoDo, across the street from a popular sports bar, right around the corner from all the coffee shops and boutiques that drew people to LoDo in the first place. It was right in the heart of the thriving city and way more stylish and trendy than the Marked was. I felt seriously out of my depth here.

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked at Rule out of the corner of my eye. We didn't exactly fit in here, and I had no idea how he and I, two beer and chicken-wings dudes, were supposed to make a place that looked like mimosas and caviar a moneymaking business. I felt like we were scaring the locals just by being here, and there was so much work to be done. All of it was overwhelming.

Before Phil had tied us into the place, it had been some kind of exotic tea and coffee shop. It wasn't in any way set up to be a tattoo parlor, which is why Rule and I had taken the afternoon off to get the lay of the land and meet Rowdy's friend so he could look the place over and tell us what he thought about it all. I thought it seemed like a long shot, but Rule was intrigued by it and he was totally on board with Rowdy's idea about expanding what we did and turning the upstairs into a retail store. Besides, I owed Phil nothing less than making his dream a reality.

"We are going to turn this into such a bada.s.s shop." Rule sounded so sure of that.

I wish I had his enthusiasm, and admittedly some of my hesitation came from the fact that Phil's health was steadily declining. I was watching the disease wither him away, and there was nothing I could do about it. So investing in this shop, getting excited about it the way Rule was, seemed to me like I wasn't even waiting until Phil was gone to act on his wishes. Plus he was still pus.h.i.+ng me to ask my mom for answers to all the questions I had, and I didn't want to waste any of the time we had left arguing about it with him.

"I feel like we're going to need to offer our clients infused water and hot towels, as sw.a.n.ky as this location is."

Rule laughed and walked to the gla.s.s door at the front to let in the guy who knocked. They shook hands, and now that I could put a name to the face, I knew I had seen him in Rowdy's chair more than once. Zeb Fuller was a big dude with dark hair and a serious, unsmiling face. This wasn't a guy that looked like he had ever lived life easy and carefree. He had Rowdy's signature old-school style of tattooing scrolled all along both sides of his neck and peeking out of the sleeves of his long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt.

He walked over and shook my hand as well and let his gaze search the mostly empty s.p.a.ce. He totally looked like the kind of guy that could tear the place apart with his bare hands and then build it back up. I could see why Rowdy recommended him.

"Sw.a.n.ky digs."

I chuckled at hearing my thoughts spoken aloud.

"Yeah."

"So you want it gutted and made to look like the other shop? What exactly is the idea?"

Rule and I shared a blank look and then I shrugged.

"I have no idea. It needs to be a functional shop. It has to have room for at least six artists to work and a piercing room that's closed off from the rest of the s.p.a.ce. We need a front desk and a waiting area and upstairs is offices, but we were thinking about turning it more into a store."

He didn't say anything, just kept his eyes moving around the s.p.a.ce. I looked at Rule, who looked back at me and shook his head. I snorted out a laugh.

"Is it obvious we have no idea what we're really doing?" I felt like I had to ask.

Zeb cracked a grin, which made him look less intimidating. "Well, with a cherry location like this, you don't really have to do much. People will come in and check it out just because of where it's at, and if you add shopping to the mix ..." He whistled through his teeth. "You're gonna make bank."

We walked with him through the rest of the s.p.a.ce, and I was blown away by how much of it there was. The Marked was a pretty big shop. I mean, none of us ever tripped over the others and the waiting area comfortably held up to ten people at a time, but this place doubled that. I had no idea how I was supposed to manage something like that, let alone remodel and staff it. I felt a slow burn work up the back of my neck.

At the end of the tour, we ended back on the main level of the shop, and Zeb was writing things down on a pad of paper he had produced from out of nowhere. Rule was asking him questions and I was just standing there feeling useless and panicked. Zeb looked up and took in my expression.

"I'll draw some stuff up, put together a couple quotes. What's the time frame?"

I sighed. "Well, Cora's gonna have to be in on the hiring and the actual business setup and she's due fairly soon, so like maybe May?" I didn't even know when I needed to have the place open by. I sucked at being a business owner. "That gives her time to be at home with the baby while remodeling is going on."

Rule nodded. "Yeah, I would think May would be good, we would be open for a lot of the summer tourist business then."

Zeb made a couple more notes and muttered something under his breath. He gave a quick nod then stuck the pen he was using behind his ear.

"It's gonna be some work, not gonna s.h.i.+t you, but this is a great s.p.a.ce and I think with minimal effort I can give you something that reflects what you guys are about but also fits in with what the downtown crowd looks for as well."

"Sounds perfect." Rule and I agreed.

"I'll touch base after I get some ideas on paper, and we can talk firmer time lines and budgets. I know Rowdy threw my name in the ring, but I appreciate the shot."

Rule lifted the eyebrow that had the studs in it and ran his tongue over his lip ring.

"Any friend of Rowdy's ..."

Zeb barked out a laugh that had no humor in it. "Yeah, Rowdy's a good dude and I appreciate he doesn't hold my past against me. Neither does Wheeler." He dropped the mechanic's name as I tilted my head a little to consider the common connection we shared.

"The past?" I had to ask.

He sighed and that ma.s.sive chest that looked like he regularly did bench presses with a Buick rose and fell.

"I shouldn't say anything because it's cost me more than one job, but if we're gonna work together, you might as well know that I served time. I got out over two years ago, but I have a record."

"Served time for what?" Rule's tone was sharp, but we both knew Rowdy wouldn't send us anyone that was a danger to the business or anyone's safety.