Chapter Three
Sadie
Riding on the back of Ashton’s bike again is exhilarating. A sense of freedom overcomes me as we fly down the two-lane highway. On either side of us, trees whiz past in a mural of burnt oranges, bright yellows, and flaming reds.
My hair has grown so long that the strands are whipping around my face despite the helmet Ash made me wear. I’m in for a tangled mess by the time we arrive wherever it is he’s taking me.
He wouldn’t tell me. It’s a surprise, he said with that smirk-like grin of his.
As the road curves, Ash leans with it. And I lean with him, my hands clasped tightly over his abdomen, my thighs warm against his. I’d be lying if I said being so close to him like this isn’t affecting me. I grow hot between my legs, and it isn’t just because of body heat. I lay my cheek against his back and close my eyes, enjoying the thrilling sensation of flying.
Several minutes later, the bike slows. I pop my lids open to find we’re pulling into the parking lot of a diner. It’s an out-of-the-way place I’ve never been to before, and plenty of miles from town. No chance of running into anyone we know here.
He parks the bike then helps me off, and as we head toward the entrance, Ashton takes my hand in his. The place doesn’t look like much from the outside, with its grimy windows and fading brown paint, but once we cross through the doors, my mouth waters at the wafting aroma of pancakes and bacon hitting my nostrils. The interior of the restaurant has been updated. I like the rustic feel, with the wood flooring and knobby oak tables and benches. We pass by a sign instructing customers to seat themselves, and Ash leads me to a booth in the back.
“Have you been here before?” I ask, sliding in across from him. The privacy of the booth isn’t lost on me.
“A few times. The crew stopped here for lunch over the summer when we were working in the area.”
“Do you like your job?”
“Sure,” he says, taking off his jacket. “Better than being trapped inside all day long.”
As I pick up a menu, I eye his arms and chest. He’s wearing a black thermal shirt that fits him to perfection. No doubt, his muscles got their definition on the job. I don’t know much about what he does for a living, but I’ve noticed how ripped he’s become since he started working for the Forest Service a couple of years ago. He smells like the outdoors most of the time, and it’s a scent I’ve come to associate with him. A scent I’ve always loved.
The waitress stops at our table to take our order. She’s tall and curvy with a generous chest. Blond, just the way Ash likes them. She smiles at us both, but her expression turns appreciative when she gives him her full attention. I flick my eyes in his direction, expecting to find him returning her interest, but his ice blue eyes are on me.
“Know what you want, Sadie?”
Him. The realization hits me hard, stealing my breath. I’ve always been attracted to him, but this is different. This feeling is new and scary because I can see us hanging out like this all the time.
Talking and laughing.
Touching and feeling.
Feeling so much.
I lower my attention to my menu. “I’ll have pancakes.”
“Same for me,” Ashton says.
The waitress picks up our menus, and Ash and I are once again left alone. I’m having trouble meeting his eyes as these disconcerting feelings blaze through my blood. So much has changed between us in such a short amount of time, and I’m having trouble catching up.
Having trouble making sense out of it. Before Friday night, I had a boyfriend I was ready to take the next step with, and now I’m sitting across from a guy I’ve known since grade school, practically drooling over him. I’m not sure how I got from there to here.
I blame the tequila.
“What about you?” he asks, bringing my gaze back to his face. “Do you like your job yet?” He knows I don’t, and the smirk on his face is proof. Ash has always enjoyed getting a rise out of me. When I was a girl, he did it by picking on me. When I was a teenager, he got under my skin by picking on my dates.
“I still hate it as much as I did the last time we had this conversation.” I glower at him, not appreciating the reminder that I have to go back to work tomorrow and deal with Jake.
“Then quit. Life’s too short to be miserable.”
“It’s not that simple, Ash.”
“Sure it is. You walk in and say ‘I quit.’”
I scoff. “My father would have a heart attack.”
Ashton clenches his jaw. “It’s time to grow up. You’re a college graduate living on your own.”
“That’s right,” I say, my voice rising. “I am living on my own. Which means I have bills to pay, such as rent.” Although splitting housing costs with Mandy definitely cuts down on the bills. Truth is, I could afford my own place if I wanted to move. But maybe I’m comfortable with my living situation because there’s a part of me that does want to be able to quit at a moment’s notice. Plus, I wouldn’t leave Mandy in the lurch like that.
“So find another job first. I hate watching you waste away in that place. It’s not you, Sadie. You shouldn’t settle for a job at your dad’s firm because he wants it. I don’t care how much pressure he puts on you.”
“It’s job stability.” God, I sound like my parents. Maybe Ash is right.
“It’s boring.”
“What do you suggest I do? Plant trees like you?”
His lips curve up in a smile. “If it makes you happy.”
“I am happy.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“Happy? No.” His blue gaze wanders over my face. “If you were happy, you wouldn’t be so defensive.”
“I’m not fucking defensive.”
“Hmm, you sure are fired up. I kind of like you this way.”
“And what way is that?”
“Passionate.”
“It’s called irritation,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Irritation is still passion.”
“In my book, irritation is irritation.”
A devious grin spreads across his ridiculously gorgeous face. “I don’t think so, Sawyer. Irritation is a form of anger, but you’re not the least bit angry. If anything, verbal sparring gets you hot between the legs.”
Shit. I press my thighs together, thankful he can’t see them underneath the table. My flaming cheeks, on the other hand, are out of my control. They’re probably as noticeable as the wild state of my deep red hair.
Ashton shoots a glance around our surroundings, then he leans forward. “Touch yourself.”
“What?” I had to have heard him wrong.
“Unbutton those sexy jeans and slide your fingers into your pussy.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No crazier than you were the other night.”
“I was drunk. What’s your excuse?”
“Payback?”
“I’m not doing this here.”
He settles against the bench, looking laid back without a care in the world. “Don’t have the courage, huh?” He’s purposefully baiting me. I know it, but my hackles rise anyway. If this isn’t outside my comfort zone, I don’t know what is.
But isn’t that the whole point? I meet his gaze head-on as I unbutton my jeans and slide down the zipper. His eyes darken and sizzle under hooded lids, and those too-kissable lips of his part the slightest bit. I dip my fingers underneath my panties, cheeks burning as I delve into the most private part of me in the middle of the day in a restaurant.
This isn’t me, but it sure feels good to be whoever this girl is.
Especially when Ashton is looking at me the way he is now, with determination in his eyes. With undiluted want.
“Make yourself wet.” His voice is raspy with desire, and it shoots straight to my core.
“What if I already am?”
“How about I come over there and find out for myself?”
“Don’t you dare!” I swing my gaze around the restaurant, horrified at the thought of someone catching on to what’s going on underneath the table. If he moves to my side of the booth that will only draw more attention.
“Then touch yourself like you mean it.” He leans closer, his hands forming two fists on top of the table. “Run your fingers over your clit until you can’t keep quiet.”
His gaze holds me captive as I stroke myself into a wet mess. Someone leaves the diner. Three more people enter. The waitress is zigzagging back and forth between the counter and the tables on the other side of the place. All the while, I try to keep my expression blank.
It isn’t easy, with the weight of his stare on me, and the pressure of my fingers on my clit.
“You planned this, didn’t you,” I accuse, and I know it’s true. I can see it in the smirk of his mouth. The satisfaction in his warm gaze. He picked this booth for the modicum of privacy it gives us from prying eyes.
“Maybe I did.”
My breathing grows choppy, and I chew on my lip to keep quiet. He shifts on the other side of the booth, and one hand disappears under the table.
“Am I making you hard?” The words are a wispy string of need rolling off my tongue.
“You have no fucking idea, Sadie. Feel like crawling underneath any tables today?”
I bite back a smile, a bratty retort on my tongue, but the stroke of my fingers almost sends me over the edge. A moan strangles from my throat as my eyes drift shut.
“God, you’re breathtaking like this,” he says, the hoarseness of his voice bringing my lids up. “Stop, Sadie. I don’t want you coming yet.”
Part of me wants to argue with him, but the other part of me is grateful he’s not pushing it. Much longer, and I’m sure we’d get caught. As if on cue, the waitress heads in our direction, two plates in her hands, just as I’m pulling my hand from my pants. I cross my arms over my waist to hide my unbuttoned jeans.
But there’s no need for me to worry. She only has eyes for Ash as she sets our plates down.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Ashton darts a glance in my direction, and I swear I can read his mind, can tell exactly what he wants.
His cock in my mouth, pronto.
“We’re good,” he mumbles.
She leaves us be, and the silence that follows is maddening. Neither of us touch our food.
“Sadie,” he says, breaking the stalemate. “I want a taste.”
My eyes go wide, and he completely shatters the tension with his deep laugh. “Chill out, Sawyer. I’m not gonna crawl under the table.” He reaches out an arm. “Give me your hand.”
I inch my trembling fingers toward his, and he grabs hold of my hand before closing his lips around my wet digits. I’m so drenched I could put out a fucking fire. With slow strokes of his tongue, he licks my fingers clean. And I can hardly believe I’m sitting in a diner with Ashton as he licks the taste of me off my own damn fingers.
He lets go with a popping sound. “I don’t know about you, but I’m fucking famished.” With that, he picks up his fork and digs into his pancakes.