Val was silent as they circled the neighborhood looking for another parking spot, and I wondered what I’d done wrong now. I also wondered how long it would take for him to say our kiss shouldn’t have happened.
My stomach clenched, and I was sick at the thought. Every time he touched me, it turned into a cause for regret or guilt, which was more alienating than the men who only spoke to me in the hopes of getting their dicks sucked. At least in those cases, I was also in it for nothing more than the sex, and we were upfront about it from the get-go. Val, on the other hand, had a knack for making me feel like a mistake.
Once we were at his apartment, his front door was shut and the locks were clicked into place, he leaned against it and stared at me without turning on the light. I could still feel the hunger in his kisses, like he’d finally released everything he’d held back for years, but he’d also hesitated over and over again. Not wanting to keep pushing, unsure if we should take it further. For all I knew, he saw Luis’s interruption as a sign.
“Was that all I get?” I asked. “Vehicular make out?”
“Look, I’m tired, and you had a rough night—”
I arched an eyebrow and put my hands on my hips. “If you want to back out of this conversation, or whatever that was in the car, please don’t act like you’re doing it for me. I’m here to figure things out with you. Or I’m here to fuck you. Preferably we could do both.”
Val’s hands balled into fists. “I just need to think.”
“You didn’t need to think when you were kissing me. And you’d stopped thinking by the time I had your dick in my hand. It would have been in my mouth had your friend not decided it was the right time to be funny.”
That drew a reaction from Val much stronger than discomfort. He pushed away from the door and stalked over to me. “You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”
“What should I be taking seriously?”
“What happened in the car!” Val’s voice boomed in the small apartment, loud enough for me to flinch. “When you go back to Manhattan, I know you’ll have to deal with the fallout of the gossip magazines and your brother, but when you’re off in your two-million-dollar apartment, I’ll be here, watching my back for Bronson wanting to run up on me after coming from the gym.”
Some of my self-righteous irritation died down, and I ran a hand through my hair. “But Luis . . .”
“Luis won’t be around to have my back all the time,” he said harshly. “Fuck. And now it sounds like I’m blaming you, but I’m not. It’s not your fault.”
“Then why are you so pissed at me?”
“I’m not pissed at you, I just wish you’d take things more seriously!” Val started pacing the apartment, shaking his head and cracking his knuckles. He was a ball of tension, and I wanted nothing more than to rub his shoulders and soothe him. Take care of him. “You have no sense of self-preservation. It’s just like this shit with Decker, and you being willing to sleep with him to get your brother a deal. Did it occur to you that maybe Dylan will expect you to do that again in the future?”
I cringed. “No.”
“Right. Just like you didn’t consider how cracking jokes when we’re being walked up on by four dudes could lead to trouble. And then flirting with Luis right in front of me.”
“I was joking,” I said. “Don’t be that way.”
“Then don’t make me feel like an idiot. You didn’t have to encourage him.”
“Babes, until you tell me you want me, I can do whatever the hell I want.” I strode halfway across the room and grabbed his shirt, holding him still. “You have serious problems with who I am.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
No wonder, since I barely knew what I meant. I inhaled deeply, digging my fingers in tighter, and met his eyes squarely. He wasn’t going to like what I had to say, but I needed to say it.
“If you have a whore-Madonna complex, this isn’t going to work. I won’t even entertain the idea of it working.”
“I don’t think you’re a whore. What are you talking about?”
“It means I turn you on, and you want to fuck me, because for the past ten years you’ve heard me talking about all the dirty things I’ve done. But on the flip side, you tell yourself I only did them because I want love or acceptance, or I don’t respect myself. And then when you plant that version of poor little angelic Ashton in your head, you back off and don’t want to touch me.” I shook him a little and searched his face. “I’m not saying you don’t have a point. If anything, you know me better than anyone. I don’t even know how you know me better than I know myself sometimes.”
“Because I spent fifteen years watching you change your personality to suit whoever you were around,” Val said. “Except when you were with me.”
“I can trust you,” I said, and I hated the way he looked away. “I can. You don’t . . . expect anything from me. You don’t go behind my back and gossip after spending an evening getting drunk on my tab. You don’t pretend to like me while secretly resenting me—”
“Ashton, just stop—”
“No, you have to hear this.” I yanked him closer again, forcing him to meet my eyes dead-on even though he was starting to withdraw into the safety of the indifference he showed when he didn’t want to deal. “I feel safe with you, and that’s a fact. And . . . and I do show another face to the rest of the world, or different faces depending on who I’m with. And yes, sometimes I just need someone to want me or show me affection, and giving them what they want is the easiest way to get that.” It burned to admit I ever got that lonely or that desperate, but continuing to deny it would never bridge the gap in this conversation. “But that doesn’t mean that entire persona is fake. It’s just certain parts of who I am. And I want to show you all those parts, babe. The part that loves to cook and take care of you and cuddle while watching TV, the part that loves to shop and drink champagne and be silly with my friends, and the part of me that loves sex.” Even admitting it turned me on, so I moved closer. “Because I do. I love to fuck, Valdrin. I love to get messy and dirty and have someone pull my hair and hold me tight and make me forget the rest of the world because we’re too busy making each other scream.”
Without seeming to realize it, Val leaned in until our chests were flush. His breathing quickened.
“But if you can’t handle all of that,” I went on. “If you can’t handle me, we can just . . . not talk about our attraction or our past again. I won’t pretend to be something I’m not.”
Val didn’t say anything, but his gaze was burning into me. He was so serious that I couldn’t fight a smile. I brushed a kiss to his brow.
“Maybe we should just think about everything for tonight,” I said. “Would that be helpful?”
“Yes,” he said, so low it was barely above a whisper.
“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“No. I will.”
I wasn’t fighting that edict, even though I’d hoped he would offer to share the bed like we usually did.
Nodding and fighting tinges of disappointment, I turned to his bedroom and started stripping off the outfit I’d worn to the party. I was aware of him trailing behind me, of his eyes wandering all over me, but I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until I shimmied out of the leather pants and turned to find him standing right behind me did he speak again.
“Before you go to sleep, I just wanted to say . . . that I fucking love it when you tell me off.” It was so unexpected that I burst out laughing, and I was delighted when he smiled in return. Before I was prepared for it, he pulled me in for a brief but firm kiss on the lips. “Good night, Ashton. We’ve got Operation Olympian to get back to in the morning.”
“We do.”
I flopped backward on his bed, and tacked on a side mission to our Olympics gold. One that would result in us getting sweaty for reasons other than a morning spent at the gym.
The front door slammed, jolting me awake. My first thought was that Ashton had Ubered his way out of the Bronx, and away from my hot-and-cold bullshit, but the catchy sound of a Top Forty song floating from my bedroom proved otherwise.
Groaning, I pulled myself to a stand. The sofa was a hand-me-down from Matt’s parents, and the springs in the cushions were fucking mean. Although, if I was honest, the real reason I hadn’t slept was because I’d stayed up tormenting myself with thoughts of what could be happening if I’d slept in the bed with Ashton. Then I’d agonized over what the hell I was doing with my life.
I liked him. He liked me. We wanted each other. And yet, I . . . completely froze when the time came to make a move. I was too afraid of what would come later. How big the fallout would be if we both fell down the rabbit hole and then Dylan pulled the rug out from under us before we could land.
I stumbled to the bathroom to piss and wash up. The music got louder and was accompanied by Ashton humming, and I had to wonder what the hell he was doing out there. Also, how he could be so peppy this early in the morning after our chaotic and stressful night. At least he didn’t sound fed up with me anymore. Last night had cut it close.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and went to the bedroom, where I found him dressed in clothing he’d not owned the previous night. Skintight compression shorts, a deep V tank top, and colorful athletic sneakers. He was also tying his hair back in a low ponytail.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“Workout clothes. It’s not like I could go to the gym in leather pants, Valdrin.”
My mouth twitched as he finished fixing his hair and turned to examine himself in the mirror. “You could have just borrowed some of my shit instead of buying women’s shorts from the dollar store or whatever.”
“It wasn’t a dollar store, for your information,” Ashton said primly. “And who cares if they’re marketed to women? They fit me, and it’s just spandex and Lycra. I don’t see how fake materials have a gender.”
I had absolutely zero ways to respond to that, so I continued staring at his ass. It was covered in shiny material like a present I was dying to unwrap. Tearing my eyes away was difficult, especially when he caught me watching in the mirror. His mouth turned up slightly at the sides.
“I’m gonna get dressed and we can go,” I said.
“Sounds good. I picked up a smoothie for you, if you want it. Infused with protein powder.”
“Where the fuck did you get that?”
Ashton gestured vaguely toward the window. “A place by the courthouse. They also had a billion different kinds of muffins, but I stuck with the smoothies. Operation Olympian will not be invalidated by butter and sugar!”
“Your willpower is admirable.” And his enthusiasm was fucking adorable. What the hell was wrong with me that I wasn’t ravishing him right now? “Aiight, give me like ten minutes.”
“I’ll be here waiting.”
I backed out of the room, eyes still glued to the hard lines of his body and the round curve of his ass, and cursed myself once in the bathroom. My body had been on a roller coaster since last night when he’d put his tongue in my mouth and his hand on my dick, and I needed to jack it like I needed to breathe. It would have been easy to get myself off real quick under the cover of music and rushing water, but I chose to torment myself with a cold shower and thoughts of what routine we would do today at the fitness center.
Thirty minutes of roadwork on the way there, strength training, and then maybe a swim to cool down. If I worked my body to exhaustion, it was entirely possible I’d forget how badly I wanted to fuck Ashton. Or maybe the adrenaline coursing through me would make that need burn hotter.
I love to fuck.
The declaration spoken in his low throaty voice still rang in my ears.
It took five extra minutes to get myself under control enough to change clothes and meet him in the kitchen. I gulped down my smoothie without looking at him, and was thankful when he popped in a cheap pair of earbuds while we ran instead of making conversation. The only time we spoke on the run from my apartment to the fitness center was for me to remind him of a turn to take, or to grab his arm before he could dart out in front of the traffic like a maniac. I was wrong about a lot of things, but Ashton having no sense of self-preservation was definitely not one of them.
I kept an eye on him the rest of the way there, and couldn’t help smiling at how into this he was. He wasn’t just forcing himself into this project as an excuse to spend time with me during my training—he was enjoying it.
By the time we got to the fitness center, he was flushed and his eyes were bright. We checked in at the reception desk, and as he spoke to the woman and gave her his identification, I wanted to kiss the fucking hell out of him. It was painfully obvious. Even the lady ended up grinning knowingly at the way I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Ashton said nothing, retrieved the keys to the private changing cabana, and led me to the stairs with a slide of his fingers against my arm.
Why I could go months without anyone touching me, only to turn into a teenager with an overactive libido once I entertained the idea of being with Ashton, was not something I clearly understood, but there was no hiding from it or stopping it. Working out helped just slightly. I entered the Zen space of calm and nothingness as I worked my upper body and drifted off with the repetitive motions that burned so good, but my concentration lapsed whenever I glanced his way. He was putting all his effort in, doing chest presses with dumbbells, and I was hypnotized by the flex of his biceps.
We’d forgotten swim trunks, so we skipped the pool and went for the climbing wall. It turned into a race, as always, and I lost my footing while staring at his thighs and ass as he climbed above me. Ashton’s laugh rang out loudly as I fell backward and hung, suspended, from the safety ropes. He kept laughing even as we descended the wall, and I chased him toward the obstacle course, tackling him onto the rubber mats.
“You suck at climbing,” he gasped as I pinned him to the floor. “Don’t be a sore loser.”
“I’m not a sore loser, but you’re a cheater.”
Ashton raised his eyebrows, still sucking in breaths as his lips twitched. “How’s that?”
I sat up with a grunt, kneeling above him, and shook his chin. “You know exactly how.”
He grinned and bucked his hips to get me off him. “Being effortlessly attractive doesn’t count as cheating, babes.”
“It definitely gives you a one-up on me,” I grumbled, getting to my feet.
Ashton grabbed my hand and stood in one fluid motion. He was slick with sweat, hair unruly, and his eyes were wide with excitement. He was on a serious postworkout high if I’d ever seen one, and it was glorious. Especially because he was now looking at me exactly the same way I’d looked at him, his gaze tracing my now shirtless torso and the bulge of my own compression shorts. Unlike him, I’d worn sweatpants over them while walking around in public.
“Want to clean up and head back?” I asked. “We’ve been here for over two hours.”
“Sure. I’m hungry again.”
“Yeah, I bet. When’s the last time you worked out this much?”
Ashton shrugged. “Last time we came here. Before that? Never. Guess I go harder with you.”
Six words released all of my already unchecked lust, and I was in teenage-boy mode again. Inconvenient as hell considering we went into the private cabana together. As decadent as the fitness center was, and as overpriced, I had to admit the digs were sweet. It included a full shower, fresh towels, a sink, and a goddamn lounge chair. It was larger than the bathroom in my own place, and yet still so small that I could hear my pulse throbbing in my ears as Ashton stripped off his clothes.
“Maybe I should—”
“Want to share the shower?” he asked. “It’s big enough.”
Was he kidding me? His challenging stare told me that he wasn’t at all, and when he turned away to rip off his underwear and step into the shower, I froze. Get in with him and potentially seal this deal, ignoring all the shit that was bound to come up in the next few weeks between us, or do a half-assed wipe down and leave the room? Or leave the room now and wait my turn. My feet automatically started for the door, but then my dick took hold of my gross motor skills and redirected my path to the shower.
One sight of Ashton naked and slicked with water, his head tilted back as he let water stream through his hair, sent all blood rushing to my already hardening dick. I turned away quickly, thankful for the dual sprays, and blindly grabbed for one of the tiny hotel-sized bars of soap. I rubbed it across my chest, not thinking of what I was doing, and hissed at the pull of my shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he asked from behind me.
“Probably didn’t warm up or cool down enough,” I said gruffly.
“True. Do you want me to rub it?”
“Rub what?” God, I was a fucking idiot. “I mean, you don’t have to. It’s fine. Just a twinge.”
Ashton ignored the comment and moved closer to me. His hands were on my shoulders without waiting for permission, and he guided me slightly forward so my hands were flush against the wall. It would have been easier laying on the bench, or even on the lounge, but a change of location wasn’t going to happen. And it felt good regardless. His thumbs dug into the spot that had pulled, and I groaned in gratification.
“Fuck, that hurts so good.”
“Most things do.”
Biting my lower lip, I folded my arms against the wall and leaned my face against them as he continued to work his way down my back. He teased out knots along my spine and worked his way lower. I knew he was hard—I could feel his erection brushing against my ass each time he leaned in—but he didn’t say anything about it. No teasing or flirting or innuendos, just Ashton massaging me into mush while warm water sprayed us, until he finally pressed himself against my back.
“Do you feel better?”
“Yeah,” I uttered, like his dick wasn’t nudging along the seam of my ass. “Why are you so good at that?”
“My mother had a masseuse who made house calls. Ms. Maxwell. When I was fifteen, I begged her to teach me how to do some basic stuff. I wanted to know how to turn people into useless puddles of moaning goo.”
I laughed softly. “You succeeded. If I was lying down, I’d probably be asleep.”
Ashton slid his arm around my waist and wrapped his fingers around my dick. So hard the ache was painful, and I groaned so loud it echoed in the room from just one pump of his hand.
“Doesn’t feel like you’re falling asleep.”
“Fuck, Ashton.”
It was all I could say before he started jerking me off. A tight grip was usually all it took to get me going, but Ashton’s technique had me panting like a dog. Iron-gripped, quick, repeated tugs of my meat while twisting his hand around the shaft—I stood no chance. I could do nothing but hunch against the wall as he jacked with one hand and played with my balls with his other. I arched my back enough so I could watch him, and the sight of his long fingers working me over while water streamed down our bodies was almost enough to make me release everything I’d been holding back.
“Do you want to come like this?” he panted in my ear. “Or in my mouth?”
“Shit.” I turned my face just enough to see his and stared at him with unveiled desperation. “I want you to suck my dick so bad.”
Ashton backed off, and I cursed at the loss of his hand, and nearly slipped on the tile as he led me to the lounge chair and pushed me down onto it. He stood over me, naked and wet and beautiful, as his own dick stood straight against his stomach. I expected him to smile and tease me, but his attention was fixed on my erection. When he sank to his knees in front of me, I bit my lip and grabbed my balls. I was pulsing, and my need was already dripping from the tip of my cock. As soon as he had me in his mouth, I knew I’d bust. He could probably tell, which was why he started by sliding his fingers along the veins of my shaft and playing with my slit, teasing out more pre-come.
I spread my thighs, slumping back against the arch of the lounge, and watched him from beneath my lashes. He alternated between rubbing my shaft and playing with my balls, working up a steady rhythm before slowing down once I started humping his hand with too much intent. I knew he was trying to make it last, but I was losing all sense of who I was and where we were as I breathed hard and moaned with little care.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Too loud.”
I couldn’t form words. I just stared at him with my lips parted and my body snapping up to meet the hand that was milking my dick so expertly. Ashton reached over with his free hand and ran it along my face, teasing my lips with his thumb. I didn’t protest when he slid it into my mouth, and I sucked on it mindlessly as the speed of his tugs increased. My eyes rolled back, and that was when I felt the tip of his tongue flick against my dick. Licking up the dribbling pre-come, then retracing the same path his fingers had taken.
“Suck it,” I pleaded hoarsely.
Ashton rubbed his lips against it, but his voice hitched as he asked, “Do you remember back in the day, when I first told you I loved giving head?”
My toes curled, and I arched my back, pulling my face away from his hand.
“Do you remember when I told you I love the taste of come? And the feel of it all over me?”
The question caused an explosion of heat in my gut, and it almost felt like I’d hit my peak except for the fact that there was no ejaculation. “Fuck.”
“I always fantasized about doing this to you, and then you coming in my mouth. On my face.”
His mouth covered my dick, and a groan of gratitude oozed from my lips. I propped myself up on my forearms and watched as he pumped the shaft and suckled the head, making it wet and sticky. The building pressure in my balls, and the explosions of pleasure soaring through me, grew steadily more intense when he started deep-throating. He took every inch down his throat without gagging, held it deep, and then bobbed his head while I slowly lost my shit.
He was so good. So perfect and beautiful. And when he gazed up at me through his hair, my brows snapped together and I finally released. I came in his mouth before he backed off, still jacking me, and let streams of semen land on the flat of his tongue and on his face. After I was done, and was slack against the lounge in a daze, I watched in amazement as he swiped up each splatter with his fingers and used it to slide over his own rock-hard dick.
Ashton didn’t break eye contact as he stood over me and used my semen as lubricant. He stroked himself so hard and so fast his hand was a blur, and then he came with a sharp cry. Once it was over, his knees seemed to give out, and Ashton pulled me forward and into a sloppy kiss. With my mind blown, there was nothing I could do but return it. Clenching my fingers in his hair and exploring his mouth with my tongue.
I felt the shape of my name on his lips more than once, and I dragged him onto the lounge with me without giving a damn about where we were anymore. The moment was perfect, and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as I could before confronting the outside world once again.