Her head was tossed back, her hair was pooling in a fiery blanket across the top of my bare thighs, and her hands were curling into clawing talons on my chest. Her eyes were locked on mine, so I saw it brimming, saw the surprise, the wonder crest over the thunderclouds when she came apart. I also saw tears spring into her gaze and the way her chest started to rise and fall like she was going to hyperventilate as soon as the last shuddering crest of the orgasm wafted over her.

I mean I was pretty good in bed, or on the couch, as the case might be, but that was the fastest orgasm I had ever inspired in any woman, and as far as I was concerned, we hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet. I was still painfully hard, still dying to get her naked and my mouth on any part of her that she would let me, but Saint had other plans.

She looked down at me like she just suddenly realized I was there, a living breathing person and not a vibrator. She jerked her hands off of my chest, scrambled off of me in a way that made my dick scream at both of us, and collected all that glorious hair into her shaking hands. The tears shimmering in her eyes started to fall, and before I could sit up and ask her what in the hell was going on, she was practically running for the door.

“I’m so sorry, Nash.”

While getting left high and dry with a raging hard-on wasn’t my favorite thing that had happened that day, I was more worried about the fact that she looked like she was going to shatter like an icicle hanging off the edge of a steep roof. She was shaking all over, her eyes were too big in her pale face, and her freckles were standing out in stark relief. The trails the tears were leaving made her look like something that was going to shatter.

“Saint, hold on a second.” I had to struggle back into my pants, not easy when my dick was still ready and rearing to go, but she shook her head at me and dashed to the front door.

“No, no … I told you I didn’t know how to do this with you. I have to go.” The door slammed behind her in her haste to exit, and by the time I was semipresentable, tucked away, and had made it to the hallway with only a slight limp, she was long gone.

The other new redhead in my life, however, was coming in through the front door. She was all bundled up and slid her gaze over my rumpled and rough state and blew out a sharp whistle through her teeth.

“Bad date?”

I snorted and leaned against the open doorway, my arms up over my head. Royal had no problem checking out the show. Too bad none of it was for her.

“It started out a little rough, got bad, had a high point, and then ended with a whimper.”

She let her gaze roam unabashedly over my naked chest, tattooed arms, and still-open pants. Why couldn’t I be attracted to her? She was adorable, bold, and I liked her unabashed and unapologetic attitude, but there was no doubt about it, she wasn’t going to be a substitute for Saint. The idea of it even took care of the uncomfortable problem in my pants.

“I gotta say, you are better than TV for pure entertainment value.”

I snorted. “Glad you can find humor at the state of my dismal dating life.”

She made her way to her own door and smiled at me over her shoulder.

“You’re a babe, a little rough and dangerous, and she’s shy and quiet. I saw her on my way in. You probably overwhelm her and she feels out of her depth. Give her a minute to realize you wouldn’t be all up on her if you didn’t think she was just as awesome as she clearly thinks you are. That is a pretty girl with a crush for sure. Boys need to be careful with pretty girls that have crushes.”

I lifted my eyebrow at her.

“How do you know all that? You psychic or something?”

She pushed her own door open and laughed at me.

“Not even close. I have really good instincts about people. It serves me well in my line of work.”

She looked like a yoga instructor or a high-end stripper, and with a name like Royal, come on. I couldn’t imagine what her job really was.

“What do you do?”

She lifted one of her own eyebrows back at me. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Don’t give up on her, neighbor. She looks like she could use a guy like you, someone to shake her up, force her to have some fun. Have a good night.”

She shut the door without giving me a real answer about her job, and I retreated into my own place. I needed a minute to clear my head and, more pressing than that, to work out my frustration in a hot shower. I’d never been so twisted up, so wound up about a girl before. Saint took effort, a gentle touch I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I was equipped with. I mean I was never the kind of guy who just barreled into a girl’s life and turned it upside down. I never cared enough to do that. With Saint I was starting to want to not only turn everything upside down, but put it in a jar, or a box, and shake it all up and around until something completely different came out. A different Nash and Saint who could figure this shit out.

I paced around my apartment like a neurotic mess the rest of the night. I couldn’t believe what I had done, or the way I had left him like that. I was mortified and stupefied at not only my actions but that I had actually managed to get off with him. That had never happened to me before, and all the foreign goodness and startling knowledge that it was him that could get me there had me nearly blind with panic.

I spent all the next day cleaning and finding anything to keep my whirling mind busy until I had to go in for my shift. I barely pulled it together to go in for my rounds, but considering my phone was blowing up with an equal mix of angry text messages from my mom, and disappointed ones from my dad, I had to get out of my apartment. I called Faith to tell her and the rest of her brood family Merry Christmas, and even though I tried to keep it brief, I think she could tell I was upset and something was really wrong.

There was nothing she could do or say to stop me from feeling like I was a lunatic. I don’t know what happened to me when I was around Nash, but something about him and me in the same room and I turned into an unpredictable mess.

Things had been all right. I didn’t love not having my own car in case I wanted to escape the wedding and my own nerves, but his friends and all of the wedding party had been really nice, and his dad, or Phil, as the older man laughingly told me to call him, was delightful. Had I not known any different, I would have thought he was healthy as a horse. The nurse in me wasn’t certain that being around so many people in his fragile state was a smart idea, but I could tell there was no way he would’ve missed the big event. This group was tighter than any band of friends I had ever encountered.

All of Nash’s friends were gorgeous and covered in defining marks that made them an unforgettable group. It wasn’t the tattoos or the fact that the groom was sporting a purple Mohawk that made me start to hyperventilate—it was the palpable love, the care, the respect and genuine admiration they all had for one another that made my skin feel too tight, made a longing I had never felt before start to stifle everything else inside of me.

The only person I had ever had that kind of bond with was Faith, and now that she had her own family and husband to take care of, I felt more and more on my own. Watching this mismatched group of men and women, seeing the bride and groom who were so clearly determined to overcome everything just to be together, made me feel out of sorts, achingly jealous, and as it throbbed in my blood I felt like I needed to go. I couldn’t take it anymore. And just like Nash said, I knew, had no doubt that he would have brought me home without complaint, and I just couldn’t get my head and my heart to line up on what they thought about that. On one hand, I wanted to take his nice-guy facade at face value, but I had been burned by my misconception of him before and I didn’t think that was a risk I wanted to take again. I didn’t know that I could handle being disappointed by him again now that I was just starting to get to a point where I wanted to think he was different than he had been all those years ago.