“Ashy,” Kelly called. “I’m spending the night with Emma,”

Ash worked her jaw. She was going to owe Kelly big for that. Thank the gods for perceptive little sisters. “Okay. Have fun.”

She looked back at Mischa to find him watching her, a teasing smile on his face. “So. Coffee, then.”

Mischa’s forward nature was startling, but she liked it. His confidence was tempting. The one serious boyfriend she’d had was so passive it hurt sometimes to figure out what he was thinking. She wasn’t big on someone else forcing their opinion on her. However, the right hint of self-assured went a long way.

The one thing keeping her from jumping on the coffee offer was she only had ten bucks until payday. She studied him again. The Fuck the World scrawled on his shirt. The tattoos—roses and skulls and angels—that wound along his forearms.

She didn’t want to turn him down. “Coffee sounds great if you’re buying.”

“What kind of jackass would that make me if I invited you out then made you pick up the tab?” Mischa winked.

She shut the lid on her laptop, and shoved aside the guilt that he was even more attractive when he was promising food. A girl could only eat so much ramen in a week.

When he offered his hand again, she let him tug her to her feet. His grip was sturdy and comfortable, and she was reluctant to pull away when she was standing.

He rested a hand on the small of her back to nudge her toward the sidewalk. “Do you come here often?”

A short giggle slipped out at the bad line, and she fell into step beside him. “The frisbee move was good. Obvious, but it took skill. But bad pick-up lines? Really?”

“It’s not. A pick-up line, that is. It would be pretty bad. I genuinely want to know.”

The scent of rain in the air grew heavier as they strolled through the parking lot. “I like working outside, and keeping my sister company wherever fits that bill.”

“Do you ride?”

“Definitely not. I’m not one of those people who’s gifted with things like balance when I’m standing on a moving surface.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” The way he looked her over made her pulse race. “And anyone can learn.”

She’d heard that before. Usually from people who had been doing something so long they forgot what it was like to not know how. She didn’t begrudge him that, but it did keep his words from assuring her. “How many decades has it been since you fell off a board just from standing on it?”

“I still take spills, and the basics are simple.”

She wanted to ask why it mattered if she could skate or not, but she liked the attention and that he wasn’t poking fun at her. “I’m sure they are.”

“I’ll show you. Hop on.” He dropped his board, and nudged it toward her. He took her hand, and sparks danced along her skin.

Each time he made contact, warm and tempting flutters beat behind her ribs.

“That’s a really bad idea. I tried this with Kelly’s board, and the number of times I landed on my backside, my butt was bruised for weeks.” Despite her refusal, she didn’t pull away from his grip. How childish was she to get hung up on a cute guy holding her hand? She didn’t care. She liked it.

“Trust me. Also, don’t counter with a line about how you can’t trust anyone who says that.” He wedged his toes under the back wheels, locking the board in place.

The encouragement in his brown eyes, and the patience in his tone, compelled her to step on. And she stayed there. “Yay.”

They were in the middle of a strip of asphalt, people coming and going, wind kicking up, rush hour traffic roaring in the background, and she was cheering because she could stand on a piece of wood with wheels screwed into it. She was such a dork.

Mischa pulled his foot away. When the board wobbled, she did too, and her gut lurched. He wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her.

That was nice. She could do this all night.

“Relax,” he said. He stayed where he was until she steadied. “Better?”

She wanted to say no, to see how much longer she could keep his arm there. “No. But yes.”

He dropped his hand from her waist, but intertwined his fingers with hers. “You know the rest of the basics. One foot on the ground to kick forward, then both back on the board. It’s not a race. You don’t have to go fast.”

“If you say so.” She tentatively followed his instructions, and was sure she’d tumble off when she rolled forward, but he stayed by her side.

He walked next to her, settling his free palm on her back every time she looked unsteady.

They made it across the street, and she hopped off, not able to hide her grin. “I know it’s not grounds for bragging rights or anything, but I’m happy with how that went.”

“You should be.” He wedged his toe under the back of the board, kicked it up a few inches, then brought his heel down on the lip, to flip it up into his hand.

It was neat to see him do that without effort, but she wanted his hand on her again. He held the door open. “Shall we?”

The scents of roasted beans and baking sugar filled her head. Because of the hour, there weren’t a lot of people inside. The guy behind the counter, and a girl sitting at a table in the corner typing away on a tablet.

Ash waited for Mischa to order, to give her an idea of how much it was okay to spend. She got a scone, and when she asked for an Americano with an extra shot of espresso, he raised his brows.

“Do you not plan on sleeping tonight? Or are you one of those lucky people that doesn’t get all sorts of wired from caffeine?” he asked.

She was enjoying his company, but that didn’t mean she needed to spill the details of her life. “I’ve got a long night ahead of me.” Fortunately, she also had a rare day off work tomorrow.

“Fair enough.”

She was grateful he didn’t push for more information. She hated making up stories. They found a seat, and he pulled out her chair, nudging it in again as she sat. The wood barely made a sound on the beige tile. If he was trying to make an impression, it was working.

She picked at her food, and struggled for something else to say. Why did she forget how much she sucked at small talk?

“Are you and your sister close?” he asked.

Ash was pretty sure half the time Kelly resented her for this life, but Ash tried. “Yes. Sort of. It’s complicated. Why?” Because he’s being polite, dummy.

“You’re hanging out with someone who’s a decade your junior, in a place you wouldn’t go on your own, and she asked your permission to leave.”

He was observant. Ash didn’t know if that was good or not. “She lives with me. Our parents are out of the picture.” That was vague enough to not draw more questions, right? She couldn’t talk about her mother. It hurt too much even all these years later. And getting into what happened with Dad... that would piss her off if she let the thought linger.

“I’m sorry.” Mischa sounded sincere.

“Don’t be.” She forced cheer back to the surface. “In the end, it’s better this way.” Damn it, why hadn’t she made up a story about Kelly visiting for the weekend or something? Now the conversation was sliding into dreary territory. Bullshit wasn’t Ash’s default setting, though.

“So, you were in video games? As in, literally?” That was a safe topic.

“Not literally, literally. They didn’t clone me and shrink me down.” Each time he smiled or gave a light chuckle, her insides went gooey.

It was enough to push aside her brief dip into the dark corners of her mind. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is you didn’t actually program the games yourself.” It was easier than she expected to keep her tone playful.

“I wanted to, but they wouldn’t let me. Something about, I don’t know, me not being qualified.”

His easygoing manner and genuine warmth made her feel like a giddy teenager. “I think I played the first one or two of those on Xbox. They didn’t quite capture your likeness.”

“No?” He contorted his face into an unnatural expression. “Now?”

“Closer. They left these off, though.” She reached out to trace the ink that swirled along the back of the hand he rested on the table, drawing her finger lightly along a winged figure.

He let out a hiss so quiet, she wasn’t sure it came from him. “That was actually a huge topic of discussion for Art. At the time, I was just thrilled they wanted to use my likeness, so I didn’t care. But it didn’t matter what they tried, once the tattoos were rendered, I looked like I’d lost an epic battle with a ballpoint pen.”

“They look better in person, anyway.” She had a habit of speaking her mind in the most inconvenient of situations. With him, she wasn’t worried about it coming out wrong. How was that level of comfort possible, with someone she just met?

“Glad to hear it. I might be wounded if you thought polygon-me was more attractive.” He flipped his hand, startling her, and grabbed her wrist loosely. “And fuck, that’s driving me nuts.”

Heat flooded her. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” He trailed his thumb over the soft skin on the inside of her wrist.

A pleasant shiver ran down her spine, and a whimper escaped without her permission.

The way he watched her raised her internal temperature several more notches.

“See?” he said.

She definitely did. His light touch from calloused fingers flitted through her, racing along nerve endings and drawing her senses to life. It made her wonder what kind of a kisser he was. And what kind of things could he teach her with that rough caress?

She’d never been a one-night stand kind of girl. Partly because her life didn’t leave room for it, but mostly because sex tended to disappoint with guys she dated. She had a hard time imagining a stranger, someone who barely knew her, would show her something better.

If life were different, she’d welcome the chance for Mischa to prove her wrong.

Even without the fairy stepmother or magical dress, she felt like Cinderella, complete with the clock ticking toward midnight. But if she was going to turn back to plain old Ash when the night was over, she might enjoy it for all it was worth now.

*

WHEN ASH DREW HER TONGUE over her bottom lip, then caught the fleshy swell between her teeth, a cord inside Mischa went taut. It stretched from where he held her arm, directly to his cock.

She was the perfect balance of fun, flirty, and sincere. Fuck, that was alluring. Lust wanted to tug her into the bathroom, lift her onto the sink, and find out what she tasted like. Glide his hands along more of her smooth skin. Hear what other sounds she made.

But he was enjoying the conversation, too. It was casual, with no pressure to measure his responses. He didn’t get a lot of that these days.

He met her gaze, to find her watching him expectantly. “I didn’t catch that.” He’d need to play closer attention to the conversation, if he wanted it to continue.

The quirk of her lips said she didn’t mind. “I asked if you had much influence over how they used you in the games.”

“Eh, yes and no?” It was the no bit that led him to break his contract with Digital Media a few years back. They wanted to take the game in more of Grand-Theft-Auto-but-on-skateboards direction.

He wasn’t interested in having his likeness used that way. The only reason they didn’t move forward anyway was a well-worded anti-libel clause in his contract. He’d argued a portrayal like that would be harmful to his reputation in real life.

Too bad that wasn’t the only thing that could do the damage.

“I think the biggest say I got in things, was the music. I wanted classic metal and punk, and they obliged, as long as licensing the songs didn’t cost too much,” he said.

“Like what?”

He wanted to say it would mean racking his brain for the playlist, but he’d been pleased with the results of that battle. He knew exactly which songs he landed. “Welcome to the Jungle, Fight for Your Right, The Flight of Icarus...”

She tugged free of his grip, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned his hand back over, to outline the same image she’d focused on before. The nude man, wings sprouting from his back and partially engulfed in flames.

Ash sang the first few lines to the song, about the sun breaking above the ground, and the old man watching. Her voice was lilting and gave the lyrics a haunting meaning he’d never heard in them before. “I flove Iron Maiden. And that you have the album art on your hand.”

Did she actually say flove? That was as enticing as a lot of her behavior.

He tugged down the collar of his shirt to show off the Appetite for Destruction image near his collarbone. “That’s what I started out with—my favorite album covers.”

“What are the rest?”

He shrugged. “Mostly things I drew and liked.”

“Wow.” She drew her nail up his forearm, along a weave of cables that led to a stylized android body. “If I follow enough of these, do you think the talent will rub off on me?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way, but don’t let me stop you from trying.” He lifted his arm to press his palm to hers, and intertwine their fingers. He must be going nuts if something as simple as holding hands seared across his skin and fuzzed his thoughts. It was a good kind of nuts, though.

The conversation drifted from music to TV to Eastern philosophy. He didn’t do long-term relationships after what happened with Victoria, but he didn’t mind if things lasted for more than a night. Two people could get up to a lot when there were no strings, and he was curious how Ash would redefine a lot.

Mischa didn’t realize how much time had passed until the guy working the counter told them he was closing up in five minutes.

Ash glanced at the clock. “Crap. I didn’t realize it was so late. I have a ton to do tonight.”

That was the second time she’d mentioned it. She might be setting him up for a quick brush-off the moment they walked outside, but he hoped not.

The fact she’d kept her fingers tangled with his through most of the conversation seemed like a good omen.

As they stood to leave, he realized rain hammered the windows. They stepped outside, and wind tore Ash’s hair, blowing it in her face, and across his chest.

“If you wait here, I’ll grab my car and be right back,” he offered, as he rested his board against the storefront.

She pulled long, blonde strands back into her fist, and studied him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would I wait here?” She stepped into the rain. Within seconds, her clothing was drenched and clinging to every inch of her. Hugging her hips. Her shirt accentuating full breasts and perky nipples.

He dragged his gaze back to her face, to see a tiny smile playing on her lips. He wouldn’t grasp the opportunity to tease her about getting wet. He was classier than that. Okay, he wasn’t usually, but she deserved better. Still, he couldn’t help looking her over again. It wasn’t simply that her soaked outfit left little to the imagination, it was that she didn’t seem to mind.

“Enough with the staring.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the rain. “It’s water. It won’t kill you.” She turned her face toward the sky, and a laugh escaped. She looked back at him with an impish smirk. “See? We’re not dead yet.”

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” That wasn’t what he meant to say, but it was the only thing he could make sense of in his head.

She flushed, and he rested a hand on the back of her neck. He traced his thumb across her cheek, smearing a cluster of raindrops. He tilted his head and brushed his lips over hers.

It was supposed to be a light kiss. Playful. Teasing. But her gasp sang along his senses, and the taste of coffee and rain drew him in. He crushed his mouth to hers, devouring her sighs.

She pressed closer, and tangled her fingers in the short hair at the base of his neck, holding tight. Cool, wet fabric heated in an instant between them, and he fought the urge to shove their clothes aside. To get closer and feel more.

He dropped a hand to her hip, to slide under her shirt, but didn’t push higher. Her tongue danced with his in a frantic rhythm.

It didn’t matter that the weather raged around them, tearing at her hair, whipping sharp stings of water against his skin. He could fall into this moment. And it was just a fucking kiss.

When she shifted her weight, she pressed against his semi-hard cock, and it stiffened in an instant. Straining against his jeans. Begging for a taste of its own.

He needed to stop this, at least temporarily, or he’d strip her down in the middle of the sidewalk, press her against the brick, and fuck her.

He summoned the last of his restraint and broke away. She studied him with a playful, almost challenging smirk. He rested his forehead against hers, still struggling to catch his breath. “My place or yours?”

She shook her head, not breaking the contact between them. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” She dropped her hands from his hair, and interlocked her fingers at the base of his neck instead. “I need to be at home in the morning when Kelly gets back, and I don’t invite anyone back to the apartment for the same reason.”

He was prepared for the brush-off, and her reasons made sense. But the way she stayed pressed against him, the contrast of hot between them and cold running down his back jarred the logic-center of his brain. “I’ll see you back to your car then.”

“I walked here.”

“Then I’ll give you a lift home? Or walk you there. We’re already wet.” He pulled back enough to look her in the eye, trying to get a read on her.

She stepped out of his grip, and disappointment flooded in with the chill that rushed to his skin. “I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice kind. “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t think any less of you if we part ways right now.”

“Did I read something wrong about this—about us?” He pointed between them. Her body language and voice made him think this wasn’t over, but her words might as well be fuck off.

She chewed her bottom lip, and the sight drove straight to his cock. “You didn’t, it’s just that...” She pulled her phone from her purse, half covering it from the storm. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you mine.”

If she wanted to be passive-aggressive with the brush-off, that was fine. He hated to write the night off, he’d enjoyed her company, but he wouldn’t push if she wasn’t into it. The disappointment raging inside wanted him to push, but he beat back the impulse.

He gave her his number. “I can’t walk away in the middle of the dark and rain, without making sure you reach your destination safely.”

“I’m fine.” The sweetness faded from her tone. “I had a wonderful evening. I’ll call you. Until then, I need to get home.”

“I got it.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and stepped back. “Good luck with whatever’s got you busy tonight.”

She gave him a tight smile and turned away. He watched her leave, and chase her down, be a gentleman repeated in his head. She’d made it clear the night was over.

He forced himself to turn and head back to his car, unsure what to make of the entire encounter.