Slave To Her Wicked Desires Read Online Free Page A

as Nash returned the favor. Nash said no way. And if her husband couldn’t treat her as an equal in all aspects of their relationship, Fiona wouldn’t stay with him.
    “I loved you!” he shouted now, dragging her back to the present. “We could’ve worked things out if you had stayed.”
    “We tried, Nash.” She sighed and placed a hand just below his chest. “You wouldn’t budge. Neither would I. And I got tired of catching you in bed with other women. We became oil and water.”
    He sneered. “You could’ve at least called after the accident.”
    She slapped him hard in the gut then. “I tried! You didn’t answer my calls. And how about when I came to the hospital, hmmm? You told them I wasn’t family so they wouldn’t let me in. The divorce wasn’t even final yet.”
    He let out an ‘oof’ from her punch and his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.”
    She rubbed the spot she’d hit. “So am I.”
    He sat again on the bench, took her hand, and this time she joined him.
    “How’s it going at Strength Inc.?” He couldn’t look at her when he asked.
    Her throat tightened in time with her stomach. She couldn’t tell him the truth. “Good. I’m managing less fighters these days. So I came here. Wanted to try something different.”
    Strength Inc. held a big place in their lives during their three year marriage. Nash and Fiona had met back when he was still working with the rez police on the reservation he’d grown up at. On weekends, he’d come to the matches a local wrestling circuit held. She was a promoter with the small time organization and she’d spotted the massive man not long after he attended his first event. She’d approached him, asked if he’d ever thought of getting in the ring? Nash had told her he’d carried a lifelong dream to be a fighter and she’d encouraged it, taking him all the way to the International Fighting World Championship. He’d been a mixed martial arts star in no time.
    But that was before the divorce, and the motorcycle accident that left him with major spinal cord trauma and a leg broken in eight places. The trauma was bad enough that, despite physical therapy, Nash would never be able to fight professionally again.
    “Truce?” he said, holding out his hand.
    She smiled. She wanted that. For them to at least be friends. “Sure.” But instead of taking his hand, she stretched her short arms around his massive torso and wrapped him in a hug.
    He smelled so good—a mixture of something spicy with sandalwood underneath. His warm skin melted her. His touch brought comfort, felt like home.
    She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed up at him. For a moment, all the pain and betrayal were forgotten. Her fingers slid over his grizzled jaw, sweep up his high cheekbones, and she pulled him close for a kiss.
    Their lips molded together perfectly. They anticipated each other’s movements as if they’d never been separated. She sucked on his bottom lip while his tongue flit inside her mouth then explored. His big hands roamed up her back and she pressed closer to him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders.
    Someone near the door cleared their throat.
    A burly man almost as tall as Nash stood just inside the threshold, leaning against the entrance with arms crossed over his brown, naked chest. His aquamarine eyes flashed fire in Nash’s direction. Light brown hair streaked blond fell to his shoulders. The guy looked part Hawaiian.
    “Am I interrupting?” His gaze narrowed in on Fiona.
    Nash didn’t like this, and he moved to confront the guy, but Fiona stopped him.
    “It’s nothing, Eli.” She stood and walked toward the towering dom clad in leather pants. “He’s an old friend.”
    “Old friend?” Nash snorted. “That’s rich.”
    She whirled on him and angry fire had returned to her gaze. “Nash, this is Eli Watson. My boyfriend.”
    Her words withered his hope, turning it to a sour ball that sat heavy in his stomach. Without a sound, he