Nash didn't answer.
He hung up slowly and set the phone on the table. His breakfast sat untouched now, the coffee growing cold.
Liana watched him in silence. He didn't move.
She stood quietly, walked around the table, and sat beside him instead of across. Her hand reached up and touched his shoulder lightly.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer.
Liana leaned in, pressing herself to his side, arms wrapping around him.
He turned slightly, allowing her to hug him. Her cheek pressed into his upper arm.
"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "I just… don't like seeing you like this."
Nash turned his face to her — slowly — his eyes shadowed, something sharp and conflicted in them. But the moment their gazes locked, the mood shifted.
Suddenly, she was too close.
His breathing deepened.
And under the table, she felt it — his body responding to her proximity.
Hard.
Fast.
His arousal pressed against the fabric of his pants, unmistakable.
Her cheeks flushed.
"N-Nash—"
Before she could finish, he stood up abruptly, yanked her to her feet, and captured her mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one earlier.
This one was brutal.
Starved.
Possessive.
His hands fisted into her shirt, pulling her tightly against him. The chair scraped back loudly, nearly toppling.
"Upstairs?" she whispered breathlessly.
"No."
He turned her toward the hallway, backing her toward the staircase — large, grand, carpeted. The wide hallway echoed with every step, every ragged breath.
"Nash," she gasped, panicking slightly. "The maids—"
"I don't care."
"But—"
"I. Don't. Care." His voice was low, feral.
He pinned her against the wall by the base of the stairs, his mouth trailing down her neck, biting lightly, marking her. One hand slipped up under the shirt she was wearing — his shirt — and found bare skin. Her thighs quivered under his touch.
Her hands pressed against his chest, weakly trying to hold him back.
"We're in the hall…"
His response was a growl as he lifted her slightly, making her wrap her legs around his waist.
"You think I can wait?" he whispered hotly into her ear. "After missing you for days? You think I care who sees me claiming what's mine?"
The word mine sent a shock straight to her core.
Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to remind him that this was reckless.
But her body—
Her body surrendered.
With each kiss, each grip, each muffled moan against her mouth, she melted into him like wax to flame.
Nash carried her — not back to the bedroom — but halfway up the stairs where the wide landing gave them just enough privacy from below.
There, in the shadows, he stripped her shirt from her body, revealing bare skin to the cool air. She gasped, arching into him, her fingers gripping his shoulders.
"Nash—"
"Say you missed me."
"I did— I do—"
"Say you're mine."
"I'm yours…"
His mouth crashed against hers again as he unfastened the towel still half-draped around his hips, pressing his body flush to hers. Every inch of him was hot, hard, and demanding.
The rest of their clothes fell like ash — fast, without thought.
And then he was inside her, pushing deep with a hunger that had no patience, no pause. Her back arched against the stair railing as her moans echoed down the hall, barely muffled by the carpeted walls.
It was raw.
Rushed.
A storm unleashed after days of distance.
He kissed her like he was starving. Held her like she was his only anchor. Every thrust was a promise — that he was here, that he was hers, that no call or world or past could steal him away.
And Liana — she gave in completely.
Because in that chaos, in that hallway where everything else could wait… she had never felt more wanted.
More loved.
More his.
The sheets were barely hanging to her body.
Liana lay sprawled across the massive bed, the silk blanket clutched to her chest, hiding just enough of her bare skin to leave everything to the imagination. Her blond hair tumbled messily over the pillow, and her golden skin shimmered softly in the early light filtering through the curtains. The bedroom still smelled of them — their fire, their chaos from the staircase only hours ago.
Her thighs still trembled faintly.
And yet, her eyes weren't sleepy. They were wide open, locked on one thing.
Nash.
He stood at the edge of the room, back turned to her, pulling on his black shirt — slow, methodical, powerful. His wide, muscular back flexed with every movement. There were faint scratches along his shoulder blades, reminders of what her nails had done in the heat of their storm. Her lips parted slightly as she watched the fabric stretch over his sculpted torso, hiding the lines she had memorized with her mouth.
"Nash," she murmured, voice soft, hoarse from sleep. "Do you have to go to work today?"
He turned slightly, buttoning his cuff, dark eyes cutting through the morning haze.
"You want me to stay?"
Liana hesitated, then nodded. "I wanted to go somewhere with you."
Nash stared at her for a moment, unreadable. Then, a slow, knowing smile pulled at the edge of his lips. His steps were deliberate as he walked back toward the bed, towering over her like a shadow. His hand gripped the blanket covering her and tugged it down slightly, revealing one smooth shoulder… and more.
"I already planned a date with you."
Her heart skipped a beat. "You… what?"
"I was going to surprise you." He leaned down, kissing her bare collarbone. "But since you asked…"
Liana grinned and immediately threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "I can't believe you—"
But Nash didn't let her finish.
He pulled back slightly, holding her shoulders, his voice dipping lower. "Go get ready."
She tilted her head. "What should I wear?"
He smirked.
"Whatever you want. But don't wear anything under."
Liana's jaw dropped slightly, cheeks flushing instantly. "What?"
"You heard me." His voice was husky, dark, commanding. "No bra. No panties. Just you. Soft and bare beneath your clothes. All mine."
Her heart thundered so loud it almost drowned out her thoughts. She clutched the blanket tighter, still flushed as he turned away and finished dressing like nothing sinful had just left his mouth.
⸻
By the time Liana stepped out of the bathroom, her legs felt weak.
Her skin was glowing from the shower, and the blush still hadn't left her cheeks. She had chosen a pair of cream-colored linen pants and a cropped beige blouse that floated slightly over her waistline. But underneath… just as he ordered… nothing.