6. Nash

6

NASH

I ’m going over contracts with Tyson when the door swings open. Colt’s broad frame fills the entrance, but my attention fixes on the small figure behind him. She’s stunning—all golden waves and haunted eyes that catch the light like amber. My pulse quickens as I take in her delicate features and the way she shrinks into herself despite her natural grace.

“Who’s this?” Tyson asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Found her outside the masquerade,” Colt says. “She wants to join us.”

I stand, moving closer. “And does our mystery guest have a name?”

“Flora,” she says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of steel that intrigues me.

“Pleasure to meet you, Flora.” I flash her my most charming smile, which usually has women melting. She meets my gaze briefly before looking away, but that glimpse is enough to see the shadows lurking behind her eyes. “I’m Nash.”

“What can you do?” Tyson asks, direct as always.

Flora shifts her weight, hands twisting together. “I was on the gymnastics team at school. Acrobatics mainly. I’m... I’m good at it.”

My interest spikes. An acrobat. That puts her squarely in my territory—and Colt’s. I circle her slowly, assessing her build. She has the perfect frame for aerial work, light and lithe.

“Is that so?” I stop in front of her. “Any particular specialty?”

“Floor routines. Some aerial work on bars.” She straightens, showing a hint of pride. “I won regional championships three years running.”

“Impressive.” I enjoy the way her cheeks flush at the husky tone of my voice. “We might be able to work with that.” I glance at Colt. “Did Colt mention he’s an acrobat too?” I keep my voice light, testing her reaction.

She shakes her head, gaze darting between us. The tension in her shoulders speaks volumes.

I reach out, trailing my fingers along her arm. She flinches hard, stumbling back into Colt’s chest.

Interesting. My lips curve into a cold smile as I step closer, invading her space.

“That’s going to be a problem, isn’t it?” I tilt my head to the side. “How do you expect to perform if you can’t even handle a simple touch?”

Her breath catches. “I-I can handle it during routines. It’s different then.”

“Is it?” I step toward her, close enough that she must feel my breath on her face. “Because acrobatics requires absolute trust. Complete surrender to your partner’s guidance. Their hands will be all over you, supporting, lifting, catching.”

She trembles but holds her ground. “I understand that.”

“Do you?” I move to face her again. “Because you look ready to bolt if I brush against you. That won’t work here. One moment of hesitation, one flinch at the wrong time, and you could get yourself—or your partner—seriously injured.”

Her fingers curl into fists at her sides. “I said I can handle it.”

“Prove it.” I hold out my hand, palm up. A simple challenge, but her wide eyes suggest it might as well be a mountain to climb.

“Back off, Nash.” Colt’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding. His hand settles on Flora’s shoulder, and for once, she doesn’t flinch away. “She can start with solo routines if that works better.”

I raise an eyebrow, studying my partner’s face. In all our years together, I’ve never seen that protective edge in his eyes—not for anyone outside our inner circle. Yet here he stands, practically shielding this girl from me.

“Solo routines?” I keep my voice neutral, though my mind races with this new development. “That’s not what brings in the crowds, and you know it.”

“She needs time to adjust,” Colt argues, his thumb absently stroking her shoulder. He doesn’t even seem aware he’s doing it. “We can work up to partner acts.”

I lean against Tyson’s desk, fascinated by this unexpected display. Colt, who barely spares a glance at the women who throw themselves at him after shows, is actually invested in this one. The way his body curves toward her and his eyes track her every subtle movement is all so wonderfully unlike him.

“Whatever you think is best,” I concede, more interested in watching this unfold than pushing the issue. “Though I have to wonder why you’re so invested in her success.”

Colt’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he guides Flora closer to Tyson’s desk, his hand never leaving her shoulder. “She’s got potential. That’s all.”

That’s all, indeed. I hide my smirk, catching Ty’s knowing look. We both see right through him. The mighty Colt, undone by a frightened little bird. How deliciously unexpected.

I watch as Ty’s eyes flick between us. “You two, outside. Now.”

Flora’s shoulders tense, but Colt nods reassuringly before we step out into the crisp night air. The moment the door closes, I turn to him with a smirk.

“Well, well. Never thought I’d see the day. The mighty Colt, brought low by a pretty broken doll.”

“Don’t be an ass,” he growls.

“What? It’s adorable, really.” I lean against the trailer wall. “How you’re hovering over her like a mother hen. Though, I have to say, if you’re not actually interested...” I let the sentence hang, enjoying the way his jaw clenches. “Because she is fucking hot. Noticed that the moment she walked in.”

Colt’s hand shoots out, gripping my shirt. “Back off, Nash. She’s been through trauma. I can see it in her eyes.”

“And?” I raise an eyebrow, not fighting his grip. “Maybe that’s exactly what makes her interesting. All that fear just waiting to be?—”

“I said back off.” His fingers tighten in my shirt. The muscle in his jaw jumps, and I can feel the tension radiating off him.

I lean into his grip. “Or maybe... I’m exactly what she needs.” My voice drops lower, intimate. “Someone who understands that kind of darkness. Someone who knows how to make it beautiful.”

Colt’s fingers flex in my shirt, but the white-hot rage in his eyes shifts to something else.

“Or better yet,” I continue, watching his reaction carefully, “maybe she needs both of us. Your protection...” I let my gaze drift to his mouth. “My control. Think about it, Colt. How perfect she’d be, caught between us.”

His nostrils flare subtly, but his grip loosens just slightly. There it is—that flash of desire I’ve been waiting for. His pupils dilate, and I can practically see the image I’ve painted playing behind his eyes.

“The three of us. Together.”

The rage drains from his face, replaced by something darker, sexier, and hungrier. He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. I can read his body’s response and how his breathing changes.

“That’s what I thought.” I reach up, wrapping my fingers around his wrist where he still holds my shirt. His pulse races under my touch.

I let my fingers linger on his wrist. Ten years we’ve worked together, and I’ve never missed the way his eyes follow me during practice, how his breath catches when we’re spotting each other on the silks. The tension between us has always simmered just below the surface.

I’ve seen him checking out other guys at the carnival, too—quick glances when he thinks no one’s watching.

Sometimes, I wonder if he’s afraid—of what others might think, of what it could mean for our partnership. Or maybe he’s just not interested in me that way. But the heat in his eyes right now tells a different story.

His grip on my shirt loosens further, but he doesn’t step back. I can feel the warmth of his breath and count every freckle scattered across his nose. If I moved just an inch closer...

But I don’t. I never do. That’s our dance—always on the edge, never crossing the line. Even now, with desire practically radiating off him, I know he’ll pull away. He always does.

Right on cue, he releases my shirt and takes a step back. The mask slips back into place, but I catch that flash of want in his eyes. It’s enough to keep me hoping, waiting for the day he finally admits what we both know.

“She couldn’t handle both of us,” Colt says with a forced laugh. “Come on, Nash. Look at her. She’s like a scared rabbit.”

I push off from the trailer wall, studying his face. “That’s where you’re wrong.” The image of Flora’s eyes flashes in my mind—that steel beneath the fear, how she stood her ground even when I pushed. “There’s more to her than that.”

“You saw how she flinched,” he argues.

“I saw a survivor.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “Did you notice how she tensed when I mentioned trust? That’s not just ordinary stage fright. Someone hurt her, badly.” My fingers brush his chest. “But she’s still here, isn’t she? Still fighting. Still wanting to perform despite everything.”

Colt’s breath catches. “Nash?—”

“And when you touched her?” I continue. “She didn’t pull away. She trusted you instantly. That’s rare for someone with her kind of trauma.”

He swallows hard. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that little bird in there?” I gesture toward Tyson’s trailer. “She’s got fire underneath all that fear. The kind that burns hot enough to consume us if we let it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No?” I raise an eyebrow. “Then why are you so protective already? You feel it too—that pull. She’s not just another pretty face looking for a job. She’s something else entirely. Let’s give her a chance to get comfortable with us,” I suggest, keeping my voice casual. “Invite her to spend the night with both of us.”

Colt’s eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, you’ve seen how she responds to you already.” I tap my fingers against the trailer wall. “She’s drawn to both of us, whether she admits it or not.”

“We’ve never...” He runs a hand through his hair. “Why her? Why now?”

I shrug. “Why not? She needs somewhere safe to stay anyway. Might as well be with us.”

“That’s not—” Colt cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You’re talking about both of us together.”

“Afraid you can’t handle sharing?” I smirk, masking the deeper implications of his words.

“That’s not it.” His jaw clenches. “We work together. Perform together. Adding fucking the same girl into the mix could complicate things.”

“Or it could be exactly what we all need.” I step closer, noting how he tenses but doesn’t back away. “Think about it. She clearly needs protection. Who better than us?”

I can see him wrestling with the idea, probably imagining how it could go wrong. But I also catch that flash of interest in his eyes.

“Fine,” he finally says. “But we take it slow. No pushing her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I push off from the wall. “Now, shall we go see what Tyson’s decided?”

She’s exactly what we both need—damaged enough to understand us and strong enough to handle us. I saw that flash of defiance beneath the fear in her eyes when she stood her ground. How she leaned into Colt’s touch while flinching from everyone else.

My cock stirs just thinking about how she’d look between us. Her small frame caught between my lean muscles and Colt’s broader build. Those haunted eyes would go wide as we take turns claiming her. The sounds she’d make when we pushed her limits.

But it’s more than just the physical appeal. The thought of sharing her with Colt is intoxicating.

And once we have her, the possibilities are endless. We can protect her, possess her, and shape her into exactly what we need her to be.

Together.

My pulse quickens at the thought. This little broken bird might just be the answer to everything. And judging by the heat in Colt’s eyes earlier, he wants it too—even if he’s not ready to admit it.