3
His World
Despite Lance’s protests that Ashe had to be at the theater before seven the next morning and needed to return home for some rest, Ashe asked Dave, the driver, to drop him off at Riley’s apartment building.
“I’ll need the car here by six-thirty,” said Ashe as he stepped out and bade his manager goodnight.
In the lobby, he greeted Frank Rogers, the doorman, with a wide grin and a box of handmade chocolates he’d picked up in Beverly Hills for Frank’s wife and daughter. Then Frank handed him a bouquet of flowers that he’d ordered before he got on the plane to New York and Ashe headed for the stairwell; after sitting all day in meetings and then spending five hours on a plane, he needed the exercise.
He could have used his key, but he rang the doorbell, grinning as he heard the sound of footsteps and an excited squeal from behind the door. He’d barely registered the smell of something roasting in the oven when Riley rushed into his arms, just missing the bouquet of flowers that he held to one side lest they’d be crushed. She was wearing one of his Savile Row shirts and a pair of boxer shorts. Ashe smiled; she smelled and felt of home.
Though she considered herself a better barista than a cook, Riley was determined to do more than reheat frozen dinners whenever Ashe came over. She had started taking cooking lessons one night a week, involving Ashe as her taster whenever he was in town. It was a hit-and-miss situation when it came to her cooking, but Ashe didn’t care. He appreciated every dish she made, tasting every success and failure as enthusiastically as he could. There was something about the passion she poured into every endeavor that touched him even more after he’d met her father, a man who sucked the life out of everything beautiful. No wonder Riley had overdosed in that little house three years ago, while Sid was watching TV in the living room, drunk as usual. If Paige hadn’t discovered Riley in the bathroom with a needle still in her arm, Ashe wouldn’t have her here with him now.
“Something’s bothering you. You haven’t said a word in the last five minutes,” commented Riley as she took the flowers from his hand and walked to the kitchen counter. “Are you still worried about what to get me for Valentine’s Day?”
“I’ve got to worry about something, so it might as well be you,” Ashe said, watching her take a vase from underneath the sink and fill it with water before setting it aside to trim the stems. He shrugged off his coat and hung it behind the door, noting how much smaller her studio apartment seemed since the last time he’d been over. She really should move in with him, but he also understood why she put it off. She wanted a place to call her own, with no chance of being kicked out with no place to go but Jackson Heights.
As she arranged the flowers in the vase, Ashe stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You smell gorgeous, petal.”
Riley turned around to face him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his bearded chin. “You smell even better.”
He kissed her then, tasting a faint hint of wine. As he lifted his head to study her face, he spied a bottle of pinot noir on the countertop behind her, and next to it a half-filled wine glass and a sprig of rosemary. “Is that the Williams Selyem?”
Ashe had received a case of the pinot noir from a director for Christmas. He had distributed half of the bottles among his management team but made sure to have a few on hand at Riley’s apartment. They were perfect for quiet evenings like this.
“I should have waited until you got here before I opened it. But the recipe called for a cup of red wine and I didn’t have anything else on hand.”
“That’s what it’s for, petal, whatever you want,” Ashe said, turning his head toward the kitchen. “Is the oven on a timer?”
“It’ll turn off by itself when it’s done. Are you hungry? I could whip up an appetizer, maybe a salad.”
Ashe ran his fingers through her hair as he lowered his face to kiss her again. “I rather fancy this appetizer right here.”
“Ashe, you’re so bad!” Riley giggled. “I still need to take the roast out of the oven when it pings.”
“How long before it’s done?”
“Half an hour. We’ll have to be quiet,” she said, her voice lowering as she glanced at the walls. “The last time we made love, two neighbors complained to the board of management. They said that everyone on the floor can tell when you’re back in town.”
Ashe chuckled. “Half an hour is barely enough time for the first round, but I’ll manage. However, I can’t promise about the noise. That’s your department.”
He kissed her again, feeling her lips part as he lifted her onto the kitchen counter so their faces were level with each other. Riley wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles behind him. He loved her innocence, the way she blushed whenever he said certain words in her ear before melting in his arms and enjoying the things he did to her. Hold her down, make love to her—that would be for later. Right now, he knew what he wanted for his starter.
Ashe kissed her again, deeper this time, tasting her with his tongue and savoring more of the wine she’d been enjoying before his arrival. Riley was his ambrosia, a drug that he couldn’t get enough of. As his mouth traveled down her neck, he pushed her shirt off her shoulders, hearing her gasp at the assault of his mouth on her nipple through her lace bra. Ashe knew the time for words was over. He’d stop only to get the bloody roast out of the oven and make sure it didn’t burn. After that, it was Riley; all Riley.
When he tugged lightly at her nipple clips with his teeth, she arched her body against him, gasping his name. Ashe lifted her off the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he made his way to the bed and laughing as they tumbled over the covers. She giggled when he moved even lower, pulling down her boxer shorts and teasing the exposed skin with his tongue. Her knees moved up instinctively from the sensation, exposing herself even more. Ash couldn’t wait to taste her and hear her come for him. He wanted to hear her scream his name and beg for more.
Gripping the back of her knees, he spread her thighs and lowered his head over her mound. Then he flattened his tongue along the cleft between her legs and Riley moaned, gripping the bars of the headboard. He did it again, loving the sounds she made as his mouth found her sensitive nub and he sucked.
Riley muffled her cries with her hand as Ashe continued to taste her, holding her hips down as he took his time. As she bucked her hips against him, utterly failing in sound control as an orgasm hit her, Ashe knew that it wouldn’t be long before everyone on her floor realized he was back in town.
It was three in the morning when he slipped out of bed and stood by the window, watching the snow fall. Riley’s cat, Miss Bailey, took over the warm spot he’d left on the bed, curling into a ball beside Riley as she lay sleeping.
Dinner had been perfect, roast beef and vegetables accompanied by wine, followed by lovemaking that left Ashe sated and exhausted. It certainly was the perfect end to Riley’s hectic day at the coffee shop; she fell asleep immediately, her head resting on his arm and her breathing warm against his chest.
As if a movie was playing on a loop inside his head, the visit he’d paid to Riley’s father earlier that evening nagged at Ashe. He left the window and sat down on the couch, exhaling as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. How he wished things had turned out differently. So many things had gone wrong the moment he’d walked into that house.
Just because Sid had assumed he was a reporter was no reason to approach him under false pretenses. No matter how despicably he behaved, Sid was still her father, a man who deserved some respect or at least the courtesy of a proper introduction. Ashe was an actor who’d had no problem doing a full frontal scene for his first movie and who could pull off any emotion for the camera, Ashe had completely failed at being the one thing that mattered: himself.
Well, it was useless to beat himself up over what had already happened. Had falling in love with Riley really changed him? No, it was because he’d seen how Riley had flinched at the sound of her father’s voice on the phone, on the two occasions Ashe had overheard him barking insults at her. The first call had been to tell her that property taxes for his house were due and that he needed some money to cover the fees, and the second time was when she’d been a day late to wish him Merry Christmas while she’d been on holiday with Ashe.
‘What? Are you such a hotshot now, dating your fancy boyfriend and too good to wish your old man a Merry-fucking-Christmas? Why am I not surprised? You were always no good. Why can’t you be like your sister?’
The buzzing of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and he reached for it from inside his jeans pocket draped over the arm rest. Though he had certain people set with a specific notification alert, only one of them was sure to text him at the oddest times.
Gareth: So I ran into your ex-girlfriend tonight.
Ashe knew he should leave it alone, but he answered anyway.
Ashe: You already are dating my ex-girlfriend.
Gareth: Not that one. The other one. The one you never talk about.
Ashe frowned. There was only one woman he hardly ever talked about, nor did he relish thinking about her.
Ashe: And?
Gareth: She asked about you. Said you don’t answer her calls or text messages.
Ashe: Do you answer all your ex-girlfriend’s text messages?
Gareth: U crazy?
“I can’t believe you’re working,” said Riley as she stood behind the couch, beginning to massage his shoulders. He hadn’t even heard her get up. “I hope Miss Bailey didn’t kick you out of bed.”
“She didn’t,” replied Ashe as he tossed his phone next to his jeans. He reached over the back of the couch and playfully pulled her down next to him. As she rested her head on his chest, she pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over them.
“If you want to be alone…” she began, but Ashe placed a finger on her lips.
“I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all. It might be the time difference. It’s midnight in L.A.” And that’s why Gareth was still awake and most likely attending a party.
“But you must be tired. Don’t you have rehearsals today?”
“Yes. The car’s going to be downstairs at 6:30.”
“That’s early, too early for someone still running on L.A. time to be sitting out here in the dark, awake. Is anything bothering you?”
“I’m all right,” Ashe said, and for a few minutes, they sat in silence, something they were used to doing. There were nights when all they did was sit opposite each other reading a book, usually the same story read on their respective tablets, and then comparing notes when they’d finished. This time, the book he couldn’t stop thinking about was the one that he’d let slip through his fingers because of his arrogance. How hard would it have been just to tell Sid he’d pay for the bloody book without berating the older man about morals?
“What was your mother like?” he asked. “You never really talk about her.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about her; I just find it hard to bring her up without remembering what happened the day of the fire. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me, either.” Riley took a deep breath as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. “We can always talk about your latest trip. Was it fun?”
“I’m afraid that since we returned from our vacation, life has somehow revolved around me again,” said Ashe, his voice lowering as if he were a radio announcer. “‘Ashe Hunter, soon to be Coriolanus for nine weeks on Broadway; purchase your tickets now!’ or ‘Ashe Hunter in talks over Sentience sequel slated to begin filming in the fall.’”
He sighed, shifting to his regular tone as he continued. “It’s so easy to lose Riley Eames in the shuffle, and I hate that. I don’t want our relationship to be just about me. In fact, I’m tired of this Ashe Hunter person because he takes over everything, even you.”
“That’s because you’re the one everyone wants a piece of,” Riley said. “I’m only a barista.”
“Never say you’re only this or only that. You’ve never been only a barista to me. You’re the woman I got trapped in that elevator with, the one I love, the person my whole world revolves around. Even when there’s an entire team focused on me, there’s only you in my world.”
Riley sighed. “All right, I’ll tell you a little about my mother if you promise to stop talking nonsense. Honestly, Ashe, you’ve got more important things to focus on than me.”
“Riley…”
“She was a librarian, although by the time I was born, she was working part-time because she had to take Paige to her photo shoots in Manhattan after school. I was about seven or eight when she started to need a wheelchair, but that never stopped her from taking me places in Manhattan. She used to come up with fun stories about my adventures. Once we went to the Museum of Natural History and she made up a story about the dinosaur in the lobby coming to life, and then I tamed it, and it became my pet.”
“Did you name it ‘Bones,’ by any chance?” Ashe asked.
Riley chuckled, and Ashe remembered that the dinosaur had in fact been called ‘Bones’; he’d seen it in her book. “Yes, and they went clackety-clack as I rode it through the museum. Then Mom made up another one about her wheelchair turning into a plane; I’d sit on her lap as we flew over Manhattan and she’d point out the landmarks to me. It was a lot of fun.” She became quiet then, her smile fading. “Sometimes I worry that I can’t remember what she looked like, but I remember the smell of muscle balm when she was in pain, which was often, or onions; especially on nights when she cooked these amazing dishes that always made Dad happy.”
Riley yawned and Ashe pulled her closer. How he would have liked to have gotten that book for her, he thought, feeling his frustration build up again. He held her until she fell asleep in his arms for the second time that night, and this time Ashe stayed with her on the sofa until the alarm on his phone chimed 5:30 a.m. Then he carried her to her bed and tucked her in next to Miss Bailey, who slipped under the covers to stay warm.
By 6:20 the car was already parked downstairs, its engine idling as Ashe carefully navigated through the snow piled on the sidewalk. As soon as he slipped into the warm leather interior, Lance was telling him how his day was shaping up—phone interviews between rehearsals, signing glossies to send out to fans requesting an autographed picture, and phone calls with Betty, his publicist. Ashe realized it was show time.
He was back to being Ashe Hunter, the actor, around whom the world revolved, while his world lay sleeping upstairs in a warm bed that he wished he’d never left.