Free If I Die by Rachel Vincent Page A

pressed against me when I swung the door shut. “I want this.” It’s now or never.
    “Me, too. You have no idea how badly I want this.” Nash kissed me, and I forgot to be nervous. I forgot about everything except him, and the heat between us, and everything that had seemed forbidden before but was now suddenly available, and irresistible, and…right in front of me.
    I backed slowly across the living room, still kissing Nash. Breathing him.
    Tasting him. I let him guide us through the doorway and down the hall, one hand around my waist while mine slid around his neck. I clung to him like the safety bar on a rol er coaster, hurtling down the track fast enough to steal my breath and scatter my doubts. And that was the whole point, right? To put aside fear and let myself feel something, before I’d lost that chance.
    When we crossed into my room—I knew by the change in light and the feel of carpet beneath my toes—I pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.
    My pulse roared in my ears. I’d seen him shirtless a million times, but never like this. Never with such a storm of need and blatant lust churning in his eyes, so hot that smoke should’ve been rising off his skin. Never with the understanding that we weren’t going to stop there.
    I was already out of breath when Nash stepped back and his scalding gaze met mine. He lifted one brow in silent question, and when I nodded, he slid his hands beneath my shirt, warm against my sides. His hands skimmed up my skin slowly, dragging the material with them, leaving chills in their wake. I raised my arms and he pulled the shirt over my head.
    I didn’t see where my shirt fell because he was kissing me again, and his arms wrapped around me. My bra pul ed tight for a minute, and I gasped against his lips when the material suddenly fell to the floor between us. Then we were chest to chest, skin to skin. For the first time.
    At least, that I remembered…
    But I pushed that thought away. So what if he’d already been this far with me before, when I wasn’t in possession of my own body? That nonmemory didn’t matter anymore, right? Thanks to my truncated lifeline, nothing mattered anymore, except how I spent the next five days. And I wasn’t going to spend them being ruled by fear.
    I pulled Nash down for another kiss, the only reliable cure for encroaching panic. His hands fell away from me, and a moment later we were on the bed, and his pants were gone, though I had no memory of that happening.
    I lay back on the pillow and closed my eyes, and the world was reduced to his lips, and hands, and a flood of sensations that were nothing like I’d imagined, yet somehow even better. I got lost in the feel of him—everywhere all at once—and only found myself when he unbuttoned my jeans.
    Startled, in spite of my own intentions, I sat up, and his hands fell away again. Nash studied my surely churning irises, watching me closely. “You want to stop?” He would take no chances this time, and that meant the world to me.
    “No.” My voice was a shaky whisper. “Don’t stop.”
    He smiled—a burst of heat before the flames rol ed over me—and I lay back again, staring at that crack in my ceiling as he slowly slid my pants over my hips, leaving my underwear in place. For now.
    This is going to happen. My choice. I wanted it.
    But when Nash’s face appeared over mine, his weight settling onto me gently, I couldn’t breathe. He was naked. Completely.
    “You okay?” he whispered, kissing the sensitive skin below my left ear.
    “Yeah. Yes.” I nodded, just in case I wasn’t clear, running my hands over his chest.
    He kissed me again, and his knee slid slowly between mine. I listened to my heart pound in my ears, wondering if he could hear it. Wondering if he could feel it.
    His lips traveled south of my collarbone and I threw my head back, and—
    Someone knocked on my bedroom door.
    I sucked in a cold, shocked breath. Nash rolled off me and sat up,