Page 6 of Her Dark Angel
“Harder, Nash,” the woman cries, and I could just about fucking die right on the spot.
You look so pretty, my sweet Kinnie. No one is going to care about you the way I do.
Nash grunts as he gives her what she wants, and I wish I could rip my ears off and throw them out the window. This is mortifying.
“Oh, are you that girl I’m meant to be dating?” Nash continues the conversation as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, completely ignoring the fact that he’s shoving his dick into a woman. His voice is rich and smooth like a shot of whiskey straight from the bottle.
“No—maybe—I don’t know.” I point to the open bedroom door. “I-I’m going to go.”
“Stick around,” he says. The words are followed by what sounds like his hand slapping the woman’s ass. She cries out at the contact. Kill me. “I’ll be done here soon.”
I don’t bother giving him a reply before I race out of the room, making sure to slam the door shut behind me. What I need right now is a bottle of bleach to clean out my tainted eyes and ears.
I can’t believe that just happened.
When I reach the foyer, the creepy man is standing in the doorway to what looks to be a large living room off to the left. I can’t see much of the room because I’m too focused on the way he’s looking at me.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention he had a girl up there.” He shrugs. “I thought you were the second girl running late. That happens a lot with Nash.”
I groan and cover my face. This is worse than I thought. What the hell was I thinking wanting to give this man a chance to change my mind about this publicity stunt? How can I possibly fake date this man for six months when it seems he’s used to having a new girl in his bed every night? Sometimes two.
This is bad. Really fucking bad.
My feet pace the shiny floor of the foyer as I gain control of my breathing and steady my racing heart. I was so close to tipping over the edge of the cliff I’m constantly walking near at the sight of Nash with that woman, memories threatening to resurface that I have kept buried for a long time. But I refuse to let my past break me more than it has. I’m stronger now than I was all those years ago, so I have to remind myself of that whenever I feel my resolve wavering.
I have every mind to walk through the front door and forget this ever happened. I could ask Adam to tell James to shove his deal up his ass and just pray that It Girl goes well at the box office. But I don’t get a chance to do that before I hear approaching footsteps making their way down the staircase.
“Johnny, grab me and my new friend here a drink. I have a feeling we’re both going to need it.”
The creepy man standing in front of me nods. “Of course. I’ll bring it into your office.”
He scurries away a moment later, disappearing down the long hallway behind the staircase that I’m sure leads to the kitchen.
I close my eyes and exhale a steady breath. You can do this, Kin, I tell myself. All you have to do is talk to the man and see if you can both make this deal work.
I slowly turn around to face Nash. He’s standing on the last step of the staircase in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants that hang low on his hips. As my eyes drag up the length of his lean body, I try not to linger on the rigid muscles of his abdomen and chest, or look at the tattoos covering his right arm and parts of his torso.
When I meet his eyes, I can’t help but shiver at the sight of them. I knew he had Heterochromia because I had seen his face plenty of times on TV, but it’s a different story seeing them up close. They’re so much more intense, especially when they’re focused solely on me.
One eye is a bright blue that could be mistaken for the color of the ocean on a summer’s day, and the other is a haunting dark green that makes me feel like I’m walking in the depths of the Amazon rainforest. It’s stunning, to say the least. Strands of jet-black curly hair fall across his eyes, sticking to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and brush over the top of his shoulders. He certainly has the rockstar look about him with his sharp features and wicked grin.
I swallow hard. Oh, good lord. I had no idea he would be this handsome in person, but I can’t let it crumble my resolve. I’m here for one reason and one reason only.
I clear my throat and fold my arms over my chest. “It seems it didn’t take you long to finish up.”
Nash rolls his eyes at my emphasis on finishing. “Well, I was distracted by the crazy woman who had just barged into my room. Can’t blame me, can you?”
There are so many things I could say to that, but I let the words die on my tongue. Time and place, Kin. “Let’s get this over and done with, shall we? It seems we’re both not pleased about this arrangement.”
Nash doesn’t say anything. He simply gestures for me to follow him down the long hallway to my right. With a huff, I follow after him. My eyes rake over his broad back and the muscles in his shoulders. But what catches my eye is the large angel wings tattooed over his shoulder blades and down his back, the tips stopping at his waist. Holy shit. That must’ve hurt like a bitch to sit through. The design is intricate with lots of fine lines and detailed edges. It’s breathtaking, really. And also haunting.
When we reach the door to his office, I step inside and spot a large mahogany desk in the center of the room. Images of Dark Angel records line the wall behind it. A piano sits to the left of the room and beside it a crimson electric guitar. It feels calmer in here than the rest of the house. I don’t know why and I can’t seem to put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the black accents on the desk or the images of Greek mythology creatures on the wall. It could be that it’s just the two of us in here, away from that creepy man. I don’t know.
Nash walks behind the desk and sits down. He points to the two black suede chairs across from him.
“I’ll stand,” I mutter, and fold my arms over my chest.
He leans back in the black leather chair and folds his large hands over his bare stomach, the muscles of his six-pack rippling from the movement. The thick veins running up his arms don’t go unnoticed by me, and I swallow hard at the sight. “Suit yourself.”