Nash wouldn’t pretend the situation with Ember hadn’t escalated. It had. And it was changing every trajectory of his life.
Previously, he’d been a task-focused machine, driven beyond measure to be better than his rivals, better than his father, but Ember Thompson was no adversary. The woman was beautiful, smart, sexy, brave, and more than a little perceptive. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever known. There were no games or motives or vanity, simply purity, decency, and an inner beauty that set his blood on fire.
Moving to his feet, he stepped into his jeans and tugged a shirt over his head, before making his way down the ladder. Nash spotted Ember sitting cross legged on the riverbank atop his flannel shirt. Reddish hues kissed the long, dark waves tumbling down the center of her back.
Concentration swamped her profile and sunshine inched over her petite features as she sat tall drawing a deep breath. The mere sound of her controlled breathing made his dick throb.
Fuck.
I’m obsessed with each breath spilling from those lush raspberry lips.
Not wanting to disturb her focus, he stood barefoot, watching in awe, but didn’t move a muscle. Powerful yearnings ranging from sweet to filthy tore through him, pummeling his heart with emotions he wasn’t prepared for.
He wasn’t prepared for any of it.
Yet there he was, fully absorbed in every second of Ember Thompson’s existence, just like every other moment he’d spent in her presence. This woman, this beautiful woman, had pockets full of sweet innocence, telling wisdom, and a wild spirit. The perfect concoction packaged in untamed beauty.
His perfect blend.
Twisting her head, she peeked through one eye. “Morning.”
“Morning, sweetheart.”
The greeting earned him the distinct privilege of watching her lips pull into a full-blown sexy grin. Rays of sunshine pushed through the trees shadowing the adorable dimples bracketing her mouth, deepening the indention and cuteness. Nash trekked through the sand to the water’s edge. Bending at the waist, he rinsed his mouth and splashed cold water on his face.
A dreamy sigh of appreciation filtered through the morning air. “I hope you don’t find this too offensive, Mr. Harris, but you have the nicest ass.”
Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. He could feel the rush of blood dusting his cheeks red. She constantly surprised him. Nash turned to face her, and she hit him with a sultry smile that nearly knocked him to his knees.
From the first time he drove her home, Nash wanted to take things slow. Hell, he was so blind and ignorant, he wasn’t even certain he’d see her again. Other than Walker Ranch, he had no interest in Ember other than complete annihilation, yet there she was working her way into his cold heart. And he was holding on for dear life.
“I find it very offensive, Miss Thompson.” He strolled toward her, leveling her with the same lustful intensity lighting up her honey-colored eyes. “And the way you’re staring at my fly should be a crime. I feel objectified.”
“What?” she gasped impishly. “I’m not staring at your fly. I’m…examining…your zipper. You can’t seriously walk past a woman with all that yumminess protruding out of your jeans and expect me not to notice.”
Her soft, husky laugh charmed him.
“I might start stalking you, knock you to the ground, roll you around on the hot pavement.” She tossed him an exaggerated wink. “And if I get real desperate, I might turn some cattle free, start a stampede or something.”
Nash barked out a laugh. Her playful banter and adorable grin set off a luscious cadence of fireworks, red-hot spangles of light, searing the insides of his veins bringing him to life.
Stepping closer, he slumped to his knees in the sand, placing a kiss to her full lips. The taste of her, silky and warm, filled him with hunger. Circling his arms around her tiny waist, Nash squeezed tightly, lifting her to her knees until their fronts melded together. His hand traveled down the curve of her back to her bottom, locking her hips tight to his.
A rush of air escaped her lungs, feeling the length of him, hard and rearing.
“Did you just ask me to roll around on the ground with you?”
Scarlet painted her already pink cheeks. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip, catching it between her teeth. Nash’s blue eyes turned lazy tracking the movement.
Jutting her chin forward as if searching for courage, she reached down into his open zipper. “Only if I get to tangle with the bull.”
Sunshine pulled the crispness from the early morning air as they made their way back to Walker Ranch. Nash’s heart was in full bloom watching Ember snap her fingers and groove in her seat while belting out “Good Times Roll” by Jimmy Allen.
Spotting a blue Mazda parked in the drive, Ember’s brows knit together. Her mouth pushed into a tight line.
“Umm, maybe you should just drop me off.”
Nash scowled rubbing his hand over his stomach in a circular motion. “I was looking forward to a few slices of that award-winning blueberry French toast you’ve been bragging about the last hour.”
Eyes strained wide, she shot him a look full of tension mixed with a tad bit of excitement. “I know what I said, but you’re going to have to take a rain check.”
Nash hadn’t seen her this nervous since the board room meeting. Scowl dipping into a grimace, he questioned, “Whose car is that?”
“It’s my mom’s. I had no idea she was coming to visit,” Ember groaned. Tipping her head back against the leather headrest, she stared at the roof of the truck for a full sixty seconds before turning to face him. “Fine, I’ll make you breakfast, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Warn me?” he snickered. “You always talk so nicely about your mom.”
“That’s because she is nice. She’s also very…unique.” An imploring smile bore through her nerves. “All right, but you need to know that she’s going to…interrogate you. Not so much with words, but my mom is, well…Nash my mother is very intuitive.”
Her warning made the dark hairs stand up on his arms. “You mean she’s a psychic?”
“No…well sort of. Psychic can be interpreted multiple ways. She can’t read your mind, but she has visions. Her intuition is kind of like an invisible bridge between the conscious and unconscious mind. My mom comprehends body language and tone of voice at a higher level than most, so she’s very in tune with her surrounding environment.”
Curiosity too much to bear, he cut the motor and unbuckled. Nash may have been more than a little skeptical, but he desperately wanted to know what made Ember tick.
“I understand your detachment regarding feelings and that you…prefer discretion, so I try to be mindful of that. I consciously try to avoid digging into your energy, but my mom doesn’t really understand boundaries. Not in a rude way. More like…she just can’t help herself.”
Nash appreciated Ember’s conscious effort to stay out of his head, but her capability of understanding him on such an intimate level only drew him closer. No woman had ever been able to give him the mental space he needed, and he respected her ability to mold around his emotional limits.
“Is she going to drill me with a thousand questions? Break out a set of tarot cards?” He opened the truck door and started for the house.