Page 80 of Nash
"I would like it noted for the record that Nashville Sutton held my hand walking down the stairs. Voluntarily. In public. With witnesses. This has been submitted as evidence and cannot be retracted." She squeezes my hand. "The prosecution rests."
"The club votes to accept the evidence," East says. "All in favor?"
Every hand in the room goes up, including Maggie's spatula.
Ruby laughs. Full, real, filling the whole room, and my chest cracks open the rest of the way.
We eat at the table. Ruby beside me, her knee pressed against mine under the table, her hand finding my thigh when she thinks nobody is watching. Everybody is watching. Nobody says a word about it except East, who mouths "soundproofing" at me from across the room. I respond with a chin tilt that makes him laugh hard enough to choke on his coffee.
After breakfast, the clubhouse empties. Knox and Sloane leave first. Darla needs a real bed, so East takes her home. Kyle lingers near Amelia until she leaves, then follows five minutes later pretending he isn't. Malachi and Candace head upstairs. James and Maggie are last, Maggie pressing a kiss to Ruby's cheek on her way out.
Ruby and I are alone. The main room is quiet, coffee cups in the sink, blankets folded on the couches. She sits cross-legged on the couch, her hands wrapped around a second mug, still wearing my shirt.
"Nash."
"Yeah."
"Earlier. When you said I push because I'm looking for someone strong enough to hold it." She turns the mug in her hands. "Is there a word for what we are?"
"What do you mean?"
"The way I am with you. The pushing, the provoking, the make me thing. And the way you respond to it. The way you get calmwhen I get loud, the way your voice drops, the way you—" She shifts on the couch. "I've never been like this with anyone. I've never wanted someone to pin my hands and tell me to hold still. That's not... I mean, that's not standard operating procedure."
I sit beside her. Close enough that her knee touches my thigh.
"It's called a power exchange," I say. "What you're describing. The dynamic between a Dominant and a brat."
"A brat." She repeats the word, testing it. "That sounds like an insult."
"It's not. A brat is someone who pushes to feel the resistance. The pushing isn't rebellion. It's connection. You test the boundary because you need to know the boundary will hold."
"And the Dominant?"
"Holds the boundary. Sets the structure. Creates the safety so the brat can push without fear."
She's quiet for a long moment. Her fingers trace the rim of the mug.
"Have you done this before?" she asks. "With someone else?"
"Once. A long time ago."
"How long?"
"Eight years."
She nods, processing. "And Vesper. You're a member."
"I am. Amelia processed my membership when the club restructured the venue."
"Have you... used it?"
"No. The club needed someone inside who understood that world. I signed up. Haven't brought anyone."
She looks at me. "You joined a sex club and you've never used it."
"No."
"Nash, that's like buying a sports car and leaving it in the garage."
