ASH

I sit on the edge of the bed, uncertain. Hesitant. What am I doing here?

I’m doing what I was told. No, ordered. A foreign concept for me. I’ve always been in charge of myself. Alone, except for the army of staff my dad employed. I don’t remember how old I was when I realized that my dad’s limited presence meant, that by default, these people charged with raising me were actually under my command and not the other way around. They didn’t know what was best for me or how to control me. They couldn’t tell me what to do. And they didn’t care to. I learned how to rely on myself and not on anybody else. Until Sam.

He was always there when I needed him. Always willing to help. But he trusted me to work it out for myself. He knew me well enough to know that I had to find my own way because that’s the only one I could rely on. That’s why I could go to him with anything. It’s part of why I still do.

The only times he put his foot down and pulled me up is when I’d push and push and push until he had no choice but to tell me I was doing the wrong thing. He was always right. Even if it took me actually doing the thing he told me was wrong to work it out. Like that night he had to rescue me from the bathroom of the Voyeur in Hollywood because a motorcycle riding college boy was my sixteenth birthday distraction. He’d snatched my drunk ass up off the bathroom floor and carried me out of there, giving me a lecture that could rival a Liam Neeson monologue. If I hadn’t loved him already, I would have fallen for him then.

When I tried to straddle him in the car so I could kiss him, he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t touch me no matter how hard I tried. That I was too young to let me work this one out on my own. No one else has ever been willing to go that far for me.

But this is different. The way he made me apologize two days ago, and the way he got the truth from me just now isn’t Sam telling me off, or letting me get away with whatever I want. How do I handle that? And why does it thrill me and comfort me all at the same time?

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he asks, entering the room and taking his shoes off by the door. His shirt buttons are undone, and he drags the white cotton off his shoulders.

“I wasn’t sure,” I admit, “if we were still top and tailing.”

He smiles gently as he crosses the room, undoing his belt buckle and then the button on his pants. “What do you want, Ash?”

“Hold me?” I whisper. Not fuck me, or touch me; just hold me. Like you used to when you didn’t know I’d ruin you. When I didn’t understand that I could only cause you hurt.

He unzips his pants and pushes them down his muscular thighs, giving me a better view of black boxer briefs and the bulge they encompass. Folding his pants width ways, he drops them over the back of a wooden chair in the corner to join the rest of his clothes before coming to me. “Now that I can do.”

He scoops me up and drops me neatly onto one side of the bed before he pulls the covers over us both. One arm wraps around my waist, his hand tucked under my hip, his other slips under my head and lands possessively on my breast. The wall of his chest is hot against my back and I melt into it, let myself be engulfed by him. I want so desperately to never move from the circle of his care.

It’s a hard thing to know exactly where you belong when being there means eventually you end up hurting the person you care most about.

***

“Hey.” Sam sits on the edge of the bed, dressed in sweats and a long sleeve T-shirt. He holds out one of two mugs while I drag myself into a sitting position against the headboard.

Best sleep I’ve had since... him actually. I take the offered drink and sip it. Chai. Hello, my old friend. “What time is it?”

“Early. Too early. I want to get my run in, though. Ru doesn’t come in this morning.”

“You still do that religiously?”

“Yes.”

“Still worried?”

He shrugs. “Not as much. Just trying to stay healthy. I’m not young anymore.”

“You aren’t old.” Please don’t tell me you’re old and I’m too young again. I couldn’t bear it.

“Perhaps not.” He cups my face, his palm still hot from the cup. “Any chance you want to join me?”

“I’m not ready to go out there.” I hug my arms around my knees, resting my cup on top. “Is that all right?”

“I get it,” he says. “But you have to face the world eventually.”

“One person at a time,” I plead. “I have to face Summer first. I need to know she doesn’t hate me.”

“She doesn’t. You must realize that.” He gets up and puts his empty mug on the nightstand before collecting his running shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed again to put them on. “She’s been calling you. Calling me. I can’t lie to her, Ash. Can’t keep her at bay indefinitely.”

“Just a few more days,” I say.

“And then you’ll call her.”

“Maybe,” I waiver.

“Or we’ll go see her,” he says. “I’ll take you.”

“I can do it on my own.”

“I know you can.” He twists so that he’s facing my direction from the hips up. Leaning nearer, he steals the cup from my hand and places it beside his on the table.

I’m fascinated by the look in his eyes; the intensity and depth those sky-blue eyes have when he’s determining something. I cross my legs, a flash of heat searing through me when his fingers surround my ankle and lift it onto his lap. Strong fingers and thumb work into the pressure points. How I missed this. Missed the way he would always touch me. No matter where we were or what we were doing, he would find a way to place his hand on the small of my back, or his knee against mine.

But it was when we were in private and he’d touch me like sex was the last thing on his mind, and I would fall a little bit more than I ever thought possible. He touches me like that again now, and I want to lose my mind and fall into him until there’s nothing but a universe of atoms. His and mine. Where neither of us knows where one stops and the other begins.

“I’m going to take you to see Summer,” he says. “I’ll arrange it. And we will go. Together. I’ll be right beside you while you tell her about what happened with Luca. And while you tell her about Talon.”

“No, Sam,” I croak. It’s one thing to tell her about Luca and the sex tape, or at least parts of it, but Talon is off limits. I haven’t talked about him since the day Sam collected me from jail. Wet heat slides down my cheeks, my vision gets fuzzy. “I’ll tell her about Luca, but not...”

Using his thumb, Sam wipes the hot splotches from my face. “It isn’t fair to Summer that she doesn’t know any of this. Do you know that? She’s your best friend, practically your family, and you’ve never let her in.”

“I can’t.” I grip his hand, holding it to my face. “I can’t talk about...him.” I can barely think his name. “You can’t make me do this. It isn’t fair.”

“You still think you’re all alone.” He exhales deeply, staring at a spot on the carpet near the door. “That you cause people to hate you by letting them get close to you. But it isn’t true.”

“It is true. I hurt you.” My voice is the barest of whispers, so low I’m not sure he heard me until he looks at me.

I hurt him to keep him safe. He was still so unsure of us, he still held onto that belief I needed more of the world than the life that we had together. I left him, knowing I’d hurt him, but certain it would be far harder on him if he let go of those doubts and fell all the way in love with me.

“You did,” he agrees. “And I let you. I made it easy for you, didn’t I? Handed you the damn ammunition for you to use.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. I told you we didn’t make sense because you were only nineteen at the time, and I was almost thirty. Told you that you didn’t want kids when you could choose travel, but I didn’t take into account that all you wanted was someone in your corner and a family of your own. That was my mistake. One I won’t make again.”

He drags his hand up my leg to grasp my ass and put me on his lap. There’s so much strength in the quiet way he chooses to deal with me. His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging gently and making my scalp prickle as he grips my face between both of his hands, his thumbs tracing my lips. “So we’ll go and see Summer and you’ll tell her about Luca and about Talon. I’ll be right there with you, and you’ll realize she isn’t going to hate you because of these things. You’ll realize you don’t have to live your life like you’re alone.”

A low moan escapes me as I roll my hips, grinding onto his lap. He turns me on with his certainty and his promise. Makes me want to do what he asks me to. I want to be his good girl. I want to please him.

His fingers dig into the fleshy part of my hip to keep me still. He rises under me, crushing his granite like erection against my seam as his lips caress the underside of my jaw and his feral groan curls my toes. “Will you do that for me, Ash? Will you give in to me on this?”

“Yes.” I fling my arms around his head and hug him to my chest as our hips move in tandem, his erection rubbing at my sensitive spots and stirring sensation that makes my insides liquid. It pools between my thighs, dampening my sweats where the fire between us rages.

Fisting my hair, he pulls my head back. Hard breaths give away how much effort he’s putting into controlling himself. His eyelids are heavy over darkened eyes that drink me in as I bounce up and down on his lap. “Can you promise me, Ash?”

“I-I promise.” I say breathlessly, my palms skidding on his chest, curling into claws. We’re dry humping the hell out of each other, and I will do anything he wants just to keep him from stopping.

He tugs more sharply on my hair until it stings, and tears prick my eyes. “Tell me you understand what I’m telling you.”

“Yes,” I cry out. I’m not alone when I’m with him. It feels so damn good to have him take control, to remind me that I belong. It feels so right. Like I’ve always needed that little bit more than he could handle giving me. Now he doesn’t hold back, and it is everything.

“Tell me you’re mine, Ash,” he commands, spearing his hand into the waist of my sweats and rubbing my clit.

Sparks shoot off in all directions. Fireworks have me slamming my eyes closed and moaning. “Yours.”

“Tell me again,” he orders. “Open your eyes and look at me while you tell me whose you are.”

Oh God. I do as he says as my body goes into a meltdown. My blood is on fire, my senses on overload, but I open my eyes and I stare into his while mini explosions detonate all the way to my scalp and my toes. And he stares back at me the way he used to when he loved me so many years ago, and I am unequivocally and without a doubt certain. Come what may, there will never be another man for me. “I am yours.”

“Good,” he says afterwards, his hand curled around my neck as he cradles my head against his shoulder and takes his fingers from my clit. A tender kiss pats my temple, strong arms engulf me. Would he mind if I stayed here forever, didn’t make a peep, didn’t move a muscle? “I want you to know that Ru contacted his brother about your tape because we thought it might have come from his company. I don’t know if you remember Marco. He wasn’t really a friend of mine, but he used to visit sometimes with Ru. He’s created a name for himself in pro-amateur porn and the style was incredibly similar. We thought if it was through him we could at least get it taken down and keep more people from seeing it.”

“But it wasn’t?” I hold my breath. I already know the answer. There’s no way a camera crew could have been snuck onto the plane and into the cockpit. I was so stupid to have sex with Luca and that other pilot when he suggested we join the cockpit club. I was so naïve to believe that nobody would pay attention to my last name and make the connection. “I’m such an idiot. I thought he was a nice guy. I didn’t know he was going to do this.”

“I know,” he says. “I don’t blame you. Do you understand? What this asshole has done to you is not your fault. I contacted my lawyer too, told them to send out cease and desists to every site they find it on. It’s probably not enough, but if it stifles people’s ability to watch it, that’s something.”

“Thank you.” I grip his rigid bicep and hold his arm more tightly around me. If only I could believe that would be enough. “I just wish I’d never done it in the first place.”

“I swear, if I ever meet this twisted fuck I’m going to make him suffer.”

“I don’t need that,” I say, though I love the protectiveness he shows. “I just need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he says, his voice changing from pissed off to brittle to warm. “Just don’t run out on me again, okay?”

***

“What are you doing, pretty girl?” Sam asks, appearing in the bathroom door while I do up the strap on my bra. Arms folded against his chest, he doesn’t move from the spot though his gaze rakes my body, causing my skin to break out in goose bumps. Is it wrong that I like when he looks at me like he’s the wolf ready to eat me up? Is it weird that he hasn’t so much as kissed me since the morning we decided we’d see Summer together, though we’ve slept side by side for almost a week? Weirder still, I feel closer than ever to him, despite the lack of sexual contact.

“I had a fight with a fish. The halibut. I can’t get the smell out. Ru tossed the whole thing in the garbage.”

“So that’s why it’s crossed off tonight’s menu.”

“Yes. He cussed me out for it too. Swore up a storm.”

“Did he?”

“He did. Then he bellowed at the guy doing dishes. Is it Joey? Something about a dirty pot and not doing his job right.”

“You know Ru didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes it’s part of the job. Everyone is a part of a machine and if one person doesn’t pull their weight it can make for a hell of a shift.”

“I get it. I’ve watched you at work enough times to know that you don’t pussy foot around when someone screws up. I know that Ru was just doing the same.”

I catch him watching me in the mirror while I gather my hair up and tie it into a ponytail. His gaze is locked on mine through the mirror, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. My pussy clenches. Same way it always does when he starts thinking about fucking me. I got really good at reading his facial expressions when I was a kid. But I was eighteen the first time I saw this particular look, and I’ll never forget.

“Do you remember the first time you told me you were going to fuck me, Sam?”

“Do you think I could forget?”

“M-maybe.” I hoped not. I couldn’t.

“You were finally feeling better. What? It had to have been six months since you’d come to live with me?” Peeling away from the wall, he prowls toward me. Neither of us waiver as we stare at each other in the glass.

“Seven.” My heart beats riotously, my breaths are small and tight like a wild animal chased until it has nowhere left to run. Sam corners me, and I welcome it.

“Seven then,” he murmurs. His hand captures my ponytail, slides down to the end and then twists right up to the hair tie, so that it looks like he’s carrying a dark rope around his fist. “You were in my kitchen. Which was unusual.”

“Let’s face it. I can’t cook,” I whisper.

“No, you can’t,” he agrees, tugging my head back until I’m resting against his shoulder. His free hand finds my bare belly and covers it. “But you never needed to. I was happy to do it.”

I could combust with how possessive he is. He doesn’t even know it. Doesn’t realize that when he touches me there, I imagine growing big with his child. That I would have given anything to have that once upon a time. That the idea still sets me on fire with the need to have him fill me with his seed.

“You were baking a cake.” He lowers his mouth to my ear, but never breaks eye contact. I can see his lips moving. “Because it was your birthday.”

“Funfetti,” I whisper. “Vanilla with the sprinkles mixed in. I thought it was cute.”

He almost winces. “You thought you were alone.”

“I was.” People make excuses for Robert Durum. They say he’s a workaholic. Or they say he was someone else before the loss of Rachel Durum. I only know that he was devastated to be left with a child he didn’t want instead of the wife he adored. How could I forget when every birthday serves as a reminder that my dad can’t bear to be near me because of a woman I never met? “I was used to planning my own parties and buying my own cake and pretending like I was happy. I bought my own gifts, used to label them from him, you know. I don’t know why. Maybe I thought if I pretended hard enough one day it would happen.”

“You weren’t alone,” he says, not arguing the point but simply making a statement. “You’ve never been alone.”

“That’s what you said then too.”

“You have me.”

I turn around and lean against the counter, feel the tug of his hand still tight in my hair. The surface is cold against my ass cheek, but Sam radiates warmth that keeps the chill at bay. “That too. And you were looking at me like you are now. Like you meant it. Like you wanted me more than anything else on the whole damn planet.”

“I did.” His voice is husky. “Still do.”

I grip the edge of the counter with one hand and press the other against his left pec. I can feel his heart beating under my palm. Being with him, being his had been such a simple thing. I’d wanted him forever, for as far back as I’d been old enough to understand what that felt like. And on my eighteenth birthday he finally looked at me the way I’d always hoped he would. That day, for the first time, he wanted me too. There was no denying it, no pretense, no idea that I would hurt him no matter how much I loved him. That knowledge came later.

He engulfs my hand with his and tilts my head back by my hair. “We didn’t make it out of the kitchen. I took you right there on the floor amidst the scattered flour and sprinkles.”

“They were stuck to my ass, melted right onto my skin by the time you helped me back on my feet. You brushed them off, staring at me the whole time.”

“You were beautiful and sexy and important,” he says. “Far more important than I had ever given you credit for.”

“I wasn’t alone anymore.”

“You never were.” He grazes my lips ever so lightly. It’s the barest of kisses. The most chaste touch he can manage, but the tenderness could crack my heart right down the middle. It’s almost an unbearable moment, squeezing the air from my lungs and moisture from my eyes until I can’t stand it.

Sliding off the edge of the counter, I drop to the floor in front of him. He’s not prepared for it and his grip on my hair brings tears to my eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes widening and then darkening as he takes in the picture of me on my knees before him, his bulge right in front of my face.

“I need you to use me.” A gush of heat fills me, making my mouth water and my pussy throb. I lick my parched lips as I reach for his fly.

“Ash.” He grits his teeth around the word as though the need that fills the air between us causes him pain. “Get up off your knees.”

“No,” I whisper, my fingers working at the metal teeth.

“No?” He growls at my boldness. “Do you have any idea how short my tether is right now? You want me to tear up your mouth with my cock?”

I want him to raze my body with pleasure until I’m a filthy mess. I want to feel him everywhere. “Will you fuck me?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

I drop my gaze to the floor. It’s not as if I don’t deserve his reluctance, but I hoped he might want me as much as I want him. I held out for it with baited breath, and now it’s hard to breathe.

“Hey.” He lifts my chin, his fingers caressing my cheek. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You know that I do, but I want to be certain first. Certain you’re mine, Ash, before I fuck you. I need to know this isn’t going to be just one more fuck and then you’re gone. I need to know I can get lost in you and it won’t ruin me. You wound me, you know. Every time you go. I don’t think I could survive it again.”

This strangled noise vomits from my mouth, this half gasp-sob-mewl that I can’t hide no matter how hard I press the back of my hand to my trembling lips. In one sentence he breaks me completely. He offers me everything and he reminds of what I can never have all at the same time. I want a future with him so badly, but at what cost?

“Ash?” He’s staring into my eyes as though he’s looking into my soul and seeing his destruction blazing there in my pupils, and it hurts so fucking much that I always fail him. I can barely keep my knees on the floor and my heart in my chest. Once, my only reaction would have been to run as far and as fast as possible from the fear of the pain I could cause. Now I want to dive into his arms and make promises I’m not sure I can keep.

I tackle his pants like my life depends on it, yanking at the material to get it down his thighs. He’s rock solid in his boxer briefs, and I welcome the distraction from my wayward thoughts.

“Ash—”

“Please,” I beg while I drag his boxer briefs down to join his pants. His erection springs free, bobbing in front of my mouth. “Let me have this.”

“I won’t be gentle,” he says. “I won’t take it easy on you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I say fervently, reaching up and wrapping my fist around his girth. We’ve always been good together. Perfect. At least sexually. I want to remind him of how good we can be. Maybe it’s not enough yet, but I need him to know that I’m his. I stroke his length, squeezing around the head, my thumb finding the hollow in his crown and wicking the pre-cum from it.

“This mouth is mine, isn’t it?” His lids droop heavily over his eyes as he touches my lips with the pads of his fingers. “Mine to use however I need.”

“Yes.”

“And your hand?”

I moan at the way he asks me to give myself to him. Christ, yes. It’s all I ever wanted in the world.

“Spread your knees and touch yourself,” he orders. “Let me see you with that hand between your legs.”

I drop my hand to my thigh and slide it between them as I widen my knees. I’m aching, my skin so hot it burns, and my panties are soaked through where they cover my slit. I barely touch my sensitive flesh before his grip tightens on my hair. “Push your panties out of the way. I want to see your fingers covered in your wetness. Show me how much you want this.”

I do as he says, pushing the gusset of my lace panties out of the way and gliding my fingers into my entrance. A cry falls from my lips at how wet I am.

“Show me,” he demands, and I do. Taking my fingers from my pussy, I hold them up between us, so he can see the moisture on my fingers and the bead of wetness that slides down my digits. Nothing compares to the way he makes me feel.

He grips my chin, eyes blazing, and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Open your mouth for me. Show me how much you want me to fill it.” 

I sit back on my heels and open for him, his cock almost grazing my lips. If I move an inch, I’ll taste the salt of his skin and the musk of his arousal. The corners of my mouth begin to burn while I hold myself wide open for his pleasure.

“Damn, Ash.” He groans longingly as he holds me still and eases into my mouth. His heavy cock scrapes against my lips like hot silk, pushing on my tongue and probing the back of my throat. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

I gag a little as he pulses deeper. Saliva fills my mouth and coats his erection, making it easier for him to slide between my lips. I place my palms on his thighs, gripping his powerful muscles as they contract and release with each thrust. Spit dribbles over my lips, forming strings from my mouth to the root of his dick that stretch each time he pulls back to push in. His pubic hair, trimmed short, tickles my nose as he takes my head firmly between both hands and makes me take him as far as I can. Tears glaze my eyes, as a mini climax rocks my core while I absorb the groans and growls of pleasure he makes. I could stay on my knees for as long as he asked me to. I want his cock in my mouth and his marks on me. I want to be his girl that he cherishes and uses all at the same time. I’m his filthy mess that he puts back together when no one else can. 

Hot, bitter salt splashes on my tongue, rolling down my throat and dripping from the corners of my lips as his hands squeeze my head. Eyes glazed, he rocks his hips in decreasing movements and finally stills. He pulls himself from between my lips, leaving spatters of saliva dribbling down my chin while he pulls up his pants.

I wipe the wetness away.

“I could live for your mouth.” He offers me a hand and pulls me to my feet. Setting me against the sink edge, he grabs a washcloth and starts wiping my chin, working his way to my lips, and gently dabbing the corners. “You’ve always looked so sweet on your knees.”

A shadow crosses his eyes, and I grab the hand he holds near my face and squeeze. Is he recalling the tape, recalling me with someone other than him? We both know there have been other people over the years, but neither of us has ever flaunted it in the other’s face. This feels like I’ve betrayed him. It’s just another way I’ve hurt him. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“No.” He puts the cloth down beside the sink and grips my hip as he leans into me, his forehead resting on mine. “I don’t want you getting all caught up in things that are over and done with. Let’s focus on the here and now instead. You and me.”

It isn’t that easy. At least not for me. But Sam always was the better man in a world full of pretend love. That’s probably why I wanted him so much. It’s like I stepped off a cliff all those years ago, expecting the fall into his arms to be short and finding the abyss to be bottomless instead, and now I’m terrified of the crash. I’m scared that I’ll land so hard every fiber of my being will shatter like glass and pour through his fingers like water. I’m scared I’m not strong enough. Or that I won’t be what he needs. Or that I’ll be everything that destroys him. My lip trembles, and I scratch at the Formica countertop with a fingernail. “Okay.”

He walks to the door. “You should get dressed now. Summer’s waiting for us. I’ll be down in the kitchen making sure tonight will go smoothly while we’re out. Come down when you’re ready.”

I watch him leave. Can’t take my eyes off him. All I ever wanted to do was save him from the pain of loving me. Instead, I cut him more deeply each time I tried. How do I make that right? Go? Stay? Perhaps it would have been better if we never met.

But we did meet. Now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. What am I supposed to do with that? How do I fix things between us? Are we even fixable?

My phone vibrates on the counter beside me, making my heart jump into my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut and grimace before picking it up and opening the text. What will it take for Luca to leave me alone? I scan the message before slamming the device back against the counter so hard for a second I’m worried I might have broken it. There are a million ways to say I’m screwed.

Here’s one: I am so fucked.