I glanced at Ashton while driving over the bridge to leave his turf and return to my own. He was sitting like he always did, curled in on himself, his head resting against the open window as the cold wind tore at his hair, his eyes closed. I wanted to touch him, but I forced myself not to. Just because he’d come with me didn’t mean things were settled between us. I was still hiding things, and he was still angry. His stubborn silence made his discontent clear, and the way he was keeping his distance. There had been no cuddles or murmured words of gratitude or sheepish glances in my direction. He just sat in the car with his arms wrapped around himself. It was entirely possible that he’d fallen asleep.
It took a few times of circling to find a parking spot before I snagged a space across from the C-Town Supermarket. It was way past closing, but there was still a group of guys hanging out under the awning. I blankly stared at them while waiting for Ashton to react to the car being stopped, but he didn’t. I unclipped my seat belt and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing twice before shaking him.
“Hey.”
Ashton made a low sound and shifted away from the window. “Time’s it?”
“After midnight.”
“Mmm.” More sleepy noises, which sounded like moans when made with his velvet voice. Rubbing the back of his neck, Ashton opened his eyes and frowned out the window. “I thought you were taking me home.”
“Do you want me to drive you back?”
Instead of answering, he ran a hand through his hair and kept staring into the darkness. “Why did you bring me here?”
He wasn’t over our earlier conversation, no matter how happy he’d been to see me at the club. Although, knowing his first instinct was to forget his anger and light up an entire room with a smile when he set eyes on me, made me feel ten feet tall.
“You want the long answer or the short one?”
Ashton turned to me. “Just tell me something real.”
“Real . . .” I slumped in the seat and thought about all the different ways I could answer that question. “What’s real is that I keep trying to push you away, and I can never manage to do it.”
“Why do you want to push me away? We’re friends.”
“No. We’re not.” I turned toward him, seeing the automatic way he recoiled, and touched the side of his face. “When’s the last time you remember this feeling like platonic friendship?”
His eyes opened wide, and he tried to back away. “What do you mean?”
“You told me to be real,” I said. “And this is the truth I’ve been ignoring, and fighting, for years. It’s never been just platonic between us. At least not on my end.” Maybe I expected him to smile, or look excited, or shocked and surprised, but Ashton’s face was blank and guarded. “When we first met, I wanted to fucking hate you. In my mind, you and your brothers had stolen my mother. But then as soon as I saw you for the first time, I . . . felt some type of way.”
“‘Some type of way,’” Ashton said skeptically. “What does that mean?”
I stroked his sharp cheekbones. “It took me a long time to admit to myself that you were my first real crush, but you were. You tried so hard to get everyone to love you, and your family ignored you, until I started wanting . . . to compensate for them. To make you happy. Draw out a real smile. Maybe one that was just meant for me. I’d never felt that strongly for another person.”
“I felt strongly for you too.” Ashton tried to turn his face away, but I wouldn’t let him. “But that doesn’t mean . . . we felt the same way.”
How could I convince him when I’d rejected him not even eight hours ago? When I wasn’t sure how to explain my own feelings for him? I started to speak, stopped, and then tightened my grip on his face.
“Think back to when we were kids. Why do you think I played along all those times you demanded I practice making out with you?”
Ashton shrugged woodenly. “After a while, when I stopped hoping it meant you liked it, I figured you thought you had to listen to me.”
“Is that why you stopped asking me to do it?”
Ashton nodded, and his first smile shone through the protective mask of neutrality. “Hardest decision I’d had to make in my life up to that point.”
“Well, you made the wrong one. I liked kissing you. I liked the way it made me feel because . . . I’d never felt those things. And when we started watching porn together, and getting off together, I wanted so damn bad to do something else. Touch you. Kiss you. Not just watch. But I was scared because I’d never been with anyone and by then, you already had experience.” My shoulders tensed. “We were teenagers, and I’d never been that turned on by anyone before. I should have been turned on by everything, but it took your tongue being in my mouth to set my body on fire. Before you touched me, I’d thought I was defective. All my friends acted like I should have been trying to fuck twice a day.”
“You’re not defective,” Ashton said sharply. “I knew you thought of it that way. I could tell you were embarrassed that you didn’t date more, and that you were a virgin when your friends had already been banging for years.”
I had been. As a kid, I’d only ever felt attraction for Ashton. Later, after high school, I’d thought something could happen between me and this girl named Rosa, but she’d moved away. They’d had nothing in common except for being my friend. They were people I could be myself around, and trust, even though my friendship with Ashton had always been full of complications. And secrets.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ashton asked after a while. “That you felt that way?”
“Because . . . it wasn’t gonna work. I was your nanny’s kid, you were heir to some massive company and a model. And everyone wanted you. And it seemed like you wanted all of them.” There was more. So much more. “And I never wanted to treat you the way everyone else did. I didn’t want to be just another person in your life trying to get with you.”
Understanding dawned in Ashton, and the guarded quality began to clear from his face.
“Is that why you never want to talk about the night we had sex?”
It was weird how that one question, one he’d never asked before, had enough magic to conjure a memory. Me kissing him so violently I’d tasted iron in my mouth, dragging him to the couch and flipping him over with his pants bunched around his knees. Fucking him way too hard, with nothing but spit and pre-come to slick myself, and barely being able to enjoy his body because the friction had been almost too much.
I’d had zero idea what I’d been doing at the time besides trying to mimic acts he’d described to me for years and what I’d seen in porn, but I’d still gotten off on how he’d moaned and pushed back on me. On how he’d obviously wanted it badly enough to grit through the discomfort and pain of my hands crushing him.
“Yeah,” I croaked, wetting my lips. “You always told me guys got off on treating you like their bitch-boy. How they were always . . . too rough. Or demeaning. Or whatever. And I thought . . . I’d basically done the same, and I was so ashamed.”
“Don’t do that,” Ashton said, grabbing the front of my shirt. “Don’t pull that bullshit where you try to protect me. Don’t make decisions for me. That night was messed up because of how it happened—me taking advantage of your grief. Not because you were a little rough.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” I said incredulously. “If anything, you just . . . you seemed to think it was the only way you knew how to comfort me. And fuck if it didn’t work, and I didn’t cement that idea in your mind.”
Ashton released me. He sat in the passenger’s seat with a disgusted huff of breath. “You’re doing it again. Acting like you have to be careful with me, or protect me. I may be messy, but I know what I want, and I know what I’m doing even if I make stupid choices sometimes.”
“I don’t doubt that. But can you deny the fact that half the time you think the only thing of value you can offer is sex?”
“That’s not failed logic, Valdrin. It is all I have to offer. And money.”
“Right. Now you’re just proving my point.”
We glared at each other, and I had to stifle the urge to tell him about his own qualities—how sweet he was, how funny and kind, his desire to make everyone happy at his own expense, and the fact that he’d never once made me feel like an outsider even though everyone else in his world had never let me forget where I lived and what my mother did for a living.
There were so many reasons Ashton was the person who took up the most space in my heart, and none of them had to do with the fact that he was good in bed. And that line of thought was exactly why, or part of the reason why, I’d tried for so long to discourage his flirtation. And the attraction between us.
Even as teens, I could still remember those times when he’d coax me into “practicing,” and I’d pretended to be reluctant and annoyed, even grossed out, while digging my fingers into the couch or the bed to keep them from sliding up his face and into his hair. I hadn’t wanted him to know he wound me up, or that I fantasized about him. That I’d been so infatuated with him.
“I want to go home,” he said.
“Why?”
Ashton shrugged. “I don’t want to hear any lectures on my bad life choices. I’m tired, and you’re confusing me, and I just don’t . . . need anything else to make me feel bad about myself. I already feel like an ass for going back on my own promise to myself and going to meet Brett at the bar.”
I sat up straight. “Did he do anything or say anything to you?”
“Not anything surprising,” he said bitterly. “But the gossip columns will have a field day tomorrow.”
Between Brett pinning Ashton against a wall, and me swooping in like some poorly dressed white knight, there would likely be a circus of theories about what had gone down.
“I won’t lecture you about the TTC thing right now,” I said after a moment of watching his tense face. “I swear I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Then what were you thinking about?”
“About us as kids. The way I’d pretended to not like kissing you even though I’d loved it.”
Ashton laughed softly. “‘Loved it’ is probably hyperbole.”
“No, it’s not. Even after we’d stopped, as we got older, I’d think about it.”
“Well, that’s a shame.” His eyes rose to fix on mine, confident and almost challenging in their directness. “I’m a lot more skilled now than I was back then.”
My breath caught. “I bet.” I swallowed hard. “I used to wonder about it.”
“You didn’t have to wonder. You could have just kissed me.” The challenge in those light eyes grew. “You could do it now.”
It was a bad idea, just like admitting all of this to him had been a bad idea. I should have known he wouldn’t leave it alone once I put it all out in the open. I should have known I’d have absolutely zero self-control if he was aware enough of my desire to act on it. Because that was Ashton—the person who went for what he wanted and spoke bluntly to make sure his desires weren’t misunderstood. And right now, he wanted me.
“I don’t think—”
His lips were on mine before I could finish whatever half-assed denial I’d been trying to come up with, and then an avalanche of lust buried the part of me that wanted to overthink this. There were no more bad ideas. No more lingering worries and no guilt. Everything that had happened in the past was whited out by the taste of Ashton in my mouth. The wet heat and the force of my own want rearing up after having been stifled for so long.
What started out chaste turned quickly once I beat back all my doubt, and I was kissing him with so much hunger that he seemed caught off guard by it. I wanted so badly to touch him in other places, to run my hands all over that hard, beautiful body, but all I could do was grip his hair and twine my tongue with his. I was drowning in a whirlpool of pleasure, and my body reacted to him ridiculously fast. I slanted my face to kiss him harder, sucked his tongue into my mouth, and lost my goddamn mind once his hands dropped to my lap.
We were panting now, furiously kissing each other while trying to breathe properly, but it was impossible once he ripped at my belt. It was then that I tore my mouth away from his own to gasp for air, and groaned when he sucked my throat while attacking my jeans with single-minded purpose.
“What are you doing?” I asked through labored breathing.
“I want to touch your dick.”
“Oh fuck.” Tremors went through my body even as I shook my head. “Not now—not here.”
“Please?” Ashton kissed up my throat again. “I want to feel it in my hand while you kiss me.”
“Jesus Christ, Ashton.” My eyes rolled back once my jeans were undone. His hand delved inside, stroking me through my underwear. “Fuck,” I said again, intelligently.
Ashton mouthed at my jaw as he stroked me through the thin cotton. “Please, Val?”
“We can just kiss,” I managed. “We don’t have to do anything else.”
Ashton pulled back enough to glare at me through his eyelashes. “I know I don’t have to,” he said. Even flushed with lust, lips puffy from our brutal kissing, his expression was fierce. “I want to.”
I tried to say something, but all I could do was feel his hand, the lingering taste of his mouth, and my throbbing cock. When was the last time anyone had touched me, let alone the person I’d been wanting for so long?
A knock on the window jolted me out of my agonized internal debate. I jumped, scrambling to fix my jeans, but Ashton just flicked an annoyed glance out the window. The group of dudes from C-Town had relocated to surround my car, but Ashton looked more pissed off about getting interrupted than concerned about whatever the hell they wanted.
“Shit,” I hissed. “I’m an idiot.”
“Just tell them to go away.”
He ran a hand through his hair and appeared completely unconcerned about whatever was about to happen, which was annoying in and of itself. Trust him to give an absolute reminder that he was from an entirely different world, where bad things didn’t happen, right after we’d spent ten minutes trying to eat each other’s face.
“Knock knock,” a voice said outside the window. “The fuckin’ morality police is here to tell you to knock that gay shit off.”
Ashton flipped the guy off, and I nearly slammed my own head into the steering wheel.
“Don’t make it worse.”
“Whatever.”
Shaking my head, I rolled down the window and found myself level with somebody’s crotch. Great.
“If you move away from my car, I’ll take our gay shit elsewhere.”
The guy stepped back just enough for me to see him, and recognition hit immediately. Fucking Luis. I glared.
“You idiot. I was about to run your ass over.”
Luis cracked up, slapping his thigh and appearing seriously amused by his own antics. A quick glance at his buddies showed they didn’t find it nearly as funny. In fact, most looked uncomfortable or exasperated, while one in particular was staring at me like he wanted to cut my throat—Bronson. Of course.
“Oh man, you should have seen your face.”
I shook my head, scowling at him.
“Your friends suck,” Ashton said loud enough for Luis to hear. “I realize I just set myself up for a lot of jokes . . .”
Luis laughed harder. “Oh fuck. You dumbasses are so lucky I’m here. My boy Bronson was about to get reckless.”
I glanced at Bronson. “Does me kissing a boy hurt your feelings, man?”
Bronson instantly bucked up. “Ain’t no one wants to see that shit. Fucking disgusting. Makes me want to throw up.”
This should have been the moment when I got angry and flipped out on him, but I just stared. “That’s the most fragile shit I ever heard in my life.”
“No lie? I will fuck you up, son. Keep talking.”
Ashton grew silent, as if he’d just realized how serious this situation could be if I got jumped by four dudes, but I wasn’t worried about myself. If it came down to it, even if I got a little lumped up, I could handle my own. Unless Bronson dragged Ashton out of the car. It was that thought which sent a chill down my spine.
“Luis, are we gonna have a fucking problem or what?” I asked. “I’m not here for this bullshit.”
Luis rolled his eyes. “Bronson ain’t doing shit. If he does, I’ll tell his mama. Her brother’s a fucking drag queen.”
Bronson looked ready to choke Luis out, but the other boxer didn’t spare him a glance. I had no idea what the dynamic of this group was, but the other guys already looked bored of the situation. Unsurprising since, with another look, I realized most of them came by Cadet’s on the regular. Apparently, they weren’t sensitive about queer make-outs like their man Bronson.
“Fuck man, crack a smile,” Luis said when I just stared at him. “I thought that shit was funny, but whatever. You got no sense of humor.”
“And you got no home training,” I retorted.
“Fuck you. My mom is the best at teaching manners.” Luis bent down to peer into the window. He leered theatrically at Ashton. “’Sup, A-Town?”
“What’s up, random guy?” Ashton asked cheerfully.
“How do you feel about gangbangs?”
Bronson stormed off. The other guys had already moved to the side to talk amongst themselves.
“Luis, can you go the fuck away?” I demanded. “You’re pissing me off.”
“Nah, chill.”
Without even a hesitation, Luis opened the back door and got in the backseat of my car. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to get out, I locked the doors and turned to glare at him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Luis glanced out the window. “Trying not to get you jumped, asshole. Bronson is a big bitch and he’s gonna be mad. Dude has lone-white-boy-in-the-squad syndrome and stays, trying to prove he’s super tough by picking on randoms. I’m trying to make it look like I give a shit about your life so he’ll leave you alone.”
“Seems like you care about Val’s life to me,” Ashton said. “Or why would you bother?”
“Pssh. You can chill on that caring shit. We may be fighting in a couple of weeks, and I’m going to be pissed if I can’t publicly humiliate him because he got his dumb ass put in the hospital.”
I snorted. Figured that would be his explanation. Ashton didn’t seem too impressed.
“And here I thought you were a nice guy,” he said. “I was prepared to consider you my rescuer.”
Luis leered again. “We could still have that gangbang, sweetheart. Me and my boys would prob run a train as long as the lights were turned off.” His gaze skipped over Ashton. “Actually, fuck that. You’re pretty enough to get balled in broad daylight.”
“I doubt you’re big enough to satisfy me,” Ashton said primly.
“Seven and a half inches. Try me!”
When Ashton burst out laughing, I stifled an urge to choke them both. The last thing I needed, or wanted, was for Ashton to start flirting with Luis to get us out of trouble. Although maybe he just wanted to flirt with Luis. The guy was hot. And he apparently wasn’t afraid of a blowjob or a handjob like me. I stared at them without speaking, and after a moment, Luis started cracking up again.
“Fuck, you are so mad right now, Val. That jealous bitch face just made my night.”
“Shut up and get out of my car.”
Luis slapped the back of my neck obnoxiously. “Okay, I’m peacing out. Take off, park somewhere else, and take your Albanian ass home.”
Ashton bit his lower lip, brows furrowed. “Do you really think they’ll do something? I’m hardly ever over here, but Val . . .”
“I’m fine,” I snapped just as Luis said, “He’ll be fine.”
Ashton rolled his eyes. “Okay, boys.”
Luis winked at him. “Just avoid a fight for tonight and I’ll make up some shit to smooth it over. No worries.” Luis opened the door and stepped out. Just before he slammed it shut, he said, “Think about that gangbang!”
Ashton laughed. “He’s not as straight as he thinks he is.”
I had zero interest in this conversation. “Let’s just go.”
His smile faded. “I guess we’re back to pre-kissing tenseness?”
Instead of answering, I started the engine and took off down the street.