Nothing said, Okay, I think I might possibly still love you, better than a blowjob in the middle of the afternoon.
And like the click of a light switch, Ash went from needing to get to know her again, to needing to get inside any slick opening her body possessed. Olivia wasn’t complaining. Her hair flip slash blowjob plan took a few weeks to implement, but it was working like a charm.
Home only an hour, she was showered and in her lounging clothes, hair in a ponytail and steaks ready for the grill, when he stalked through the door. Eyes crazed, he pushed her up against the nearest vertical surface without so much as a how-do-you-do, swallowing her delighted yelp of surprise.
His hand flexed against the tender flesh of her neck, holding her in place for his urgent, all-consuming kiss. A sizzling jolt of fear danced down her spine, though it wasn’t his immense size and strength she was afraid of. Ash would never hurt her physically. And despite the fierce way his mouth took hers, needy and demanding, the kiss wasn’t violent. It was primal. Instinctual. Claim-staking.
And that was what Olivia feared. Feared and craved.
“You poked the bear, darlin’.” His rough voice rumbled against her lips, heavy-grit sandpaper scraping over her heightened senses. She shivered with it.
“And it was so much fun.” She nipped at him. “I think I like you submissive.”
“Don’t get used to it.” His body pressed her into the wall, and he sucked that sensitive spot just below her ear. “Do you know how much I want you? Can you tell how badly I need to be inside you right now? Right fucking now?”
He pulled his T-shirt off for the second time that afternoon, yanking his button-fly open and releasing himself from the denim.
Smiling, she licked her lips. “Hard to miss that.”
She snagged her fingers through the loops in his jeans and tugged, dragging them down to midthigh. Hungry mouths melded, their hands tangling as they rushed to remove all clothing within arm’s reach. Hopping, he tugged his boots off while somehow still maintaining tongue contact, sliding her shirt and bra off seconds later.
The man was Houdini when it came to getting naked. Clothes just disappeared.
“Livvy.” Breathing labored, he cupped her neck again, fueling her arousal. “Tell me you want me again. Tell me you need me again.”
Later, she’d wonder if he was talking about sex or life in general.
For now, it was sex.
“Mmm, I want you so much, I had to clean myself off with Scorpio-owned Kleenex. I want you too much.” She dragged his hand down her stomach, sliding it past the band of her lounge pants and into her panties, the only pieces of clothing still on either of their bodies. His callused fingers slid through drenched folds. “That much.”
“I want you to taste yourself from my fingers.” His wicked command slithered over her nerve endings, erasing inhibition.
Moaning, Olivia grazed along his bristled jaw with her teeth. “I’d rather taste myself from your tongue—eeek!”
Her feet off the floor, she squealed as he tossed her onto the sofa, peeling her pants and undies off and following her down in one fluid motion. “Done.”
“Wow!” Dizzy, she cupped his face. “That was a crazy smooth move. You’re like a sex ninja.” She giggled, caught up in the moment. “Do a naked backflip for me? Maybe a few karate kicks? Please? I promise no photographs.”
“There it is.” Eyes lit from within, his whisper was reverent. “That’s the laugh I love so much. That I live to hear.” His kiss was gentle, eyes never closing, gaze unwavering. “I live for it, Olivia. I’d die for it.”
His words were veritable poetry, and she rolled her lips, uncertainty bringing tears.
“What?” His breath was warm. “What are you thinking?”
That I made a big mistake.
That I never should have left you.
That I never stopped loving you.
“That I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to feel.” Wrapping her bare legs around him, she cradled his hardness between her thighs, hips bucking in invitation. “I need to feel you inside me. Now.”
He groaned, his fingers testing her slippery passage before he flexed his hips, his erection nudging her entrance. “Tell me I’m not dreaming. Tell me I’m really holding you.”
His hips surged and she panicked, pulling her lower body away before his steely hardness pushed past her natural resistance. “Wait. We need birth control.”
“What?” He froze. “Why?”
“Why?” Mouth gaping, her gaze bored into his. “How can you ask me that?”
“Aw, Livvy.” Dropping his forehead to hers, a millimeter from connecting them body and soul, he soothed her. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. Let’s try again.”
“I don’t need your pity, Ash. I’m not sad. I’m horny.” And pissed at his insensitivity. “But we need a condom first.”
“Don’t look at me,” he finally said, with a confused head shake.
“You’re joking, right?” If he was, it wasn’t funny. She had a solid eight inches of paradise at the ready and impatience was her middle name.
Perplexed, he stared her. “I don’t have any.”
She couldn’t hide her surprise. “Not even in the duffel you use for travel?”
In the blink of an eye, he went icy cold.
“No, I don’t have condoms,” he fired back, shooting up to pace the room. “I’m a married man. Why the fuck would I have condoms? We never needed them. We didn’t use them.”
“Well…” Her voice waned, not sure of a tactful way to say it.
He stopped pacing to glare. “You think I cheated on you, don’t you? Is that why you want me to wear a rubber? News flash, Mrs. Coleson. You can’t get an STD from fucking yourself, and that’s all I’ve been doing since you left me.”
“You left me.” Sitting up, she covered herself with a chenille throw. “And I’m afraid to have unprotected sex after… after her. I can’t take a chance.”
His face blanched, then reddened in anger.
The choking sound he made was unrecognizable as human, certainly not even close to a word in the English language, his outrage clear. Yanking on his discarded jeans, his movements were angry, the seams nearly splitting in his powerful hands.
“Let me make sure I understand,” he hissed. “Is it that you’re afraid I might give you a bad case of the crabs? Or are you more appalled that I might give you a baby?”
“Don’t act surprised.”
“Don’t act fucking heartless!”
The denim held, and he turned his back to her, hanging his head for long seconds. Finally taking a deep, heaving breath, he stared out the window, the approaching sunset turning the Pacific a steely blue.
“What are we doing here, Olivia? And why are we doing it?” Void of emotion, his voice was as distant as his demeanor. “We keep one-upping each other. You bruise me, so I bruise you. Why is it a competition to see who’s been hurt the most? To see who can fire off the final kill shot?”
“It’s not a competition.” The marina held his attention as she grabbed his T-shirt off the floor, the warm cotton covering her from neck to knees. “If it was, I’d be the winner, hands down.”
Hanging off one shoulder, the shirt hid her nakedness, both inside and out.
Exhaustion lined his face when he turned his head. “I’m tired of carrying this burden. It’s too heavy. I never wanted to hurt you. I only wanted to love you.”
“But you did hurt me!” The tidal wave of emotion simmering in her belly boiled over, this conversation—this fight—years in the making. “I needed you, Ash. I needed my husband! I was in shock, I was bleeding and losing my mind, and still I had to beg you. Down on my knees, I begged you to stay.” She hit her chest with each word. “But you didn’t. You left. How’s that for not wanting to hurt me?”
She stared at him, his profile set in granite, waiting for an answer. Knowing nothing he said would be good enough.
“You hurt me, too. You gutted me.”
His simple admission was a bombshell. She didn’t think anyone could bring down Asher Coleson. He was the Teflon man.
“Yeah, but I never broke my promises.” The tears streaking her cheeks had come out of nowhere, and she wiped them away, composing herself. “My word was good, and my choice was you. Always. I can’t trust you anymore.”
“Oh, really?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s a glowing endorsement for somebody who’s been MIA for four fucking years. So guess what, Liv? I can’t trust you. I can’t trust that you won’t bail at the first sign of trouble. That I won’t come home one day, desperate to see my wife, only to find her gone. Moved right the hell out of our home and in with dear old Dad, goddamn pillows and all. And considering you did exactly that once before, I have a valid concern.”
“At the first sign of trouble?” She was incensed by his casual turn of phrase. “Is that how you remember her? As trouble? Because I remember her as an actual person! With a name and everything!”
And there it was. What their four-year separation was really about.
Her.
The air vibrated in silence. No sound. No movement. Only the ugly truth hanging heavy in the room.
She was the reason a sea of anger and resentment divided them.
“You know what I mean.” He spun his hand impatiently. “Things got rough. You left.”
Her laugh was sarcastic. “That’s rich, coming from you. A man so busy saving the world, he couldn’t be bothered to spend even a second saving his own marriage. You were out gallivanting the globe wearing camouflage, automatic weapons, and a Superman cape. Passing through town occasionally, expecting me to keep the home fires burning. Expecting me to pick up the pieces and be all peachy keen after”—her breath caught—“after her.”
Looking away before she lost it entirely, Olivia filled her lungs slowly, exhaling to a count of ten. Breathing methodically through the surge of grief. A trick Marie had taught.
“You don’t know the meaning of the word rough,” she added, shaking her head.
Pursing his lips, Ash nodded once, but she knew he flat-out disagreed. “How much longer are you gonna hold this grudge?” He lifted his arms. “Another year? A decade? My whole fucking life?”
“I don’t know, Ash. How long do you think it’ll be before I don’t see her face in my dreams anymore? Or worse, in my nightmares?”
“We’ve been apart four years. Enough is enough.”
“No. It’s never enough. It never goes away,” she pressed, stepping toward him. “I feel angry and sad and empty every day because of what happened. I have to live with the pain every day. You should, too.”
“I do live with it.”
“Then you’re doing a fine job of hiding it! You haven’t brought her up once since I’ve been here. Not one time. Why can’t we talk about her? Why are you acting like she didn’t exist? You’ve just forgotten. Erased her from our history.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it. I can’t talk about it.”
“If I can, you can,” she snapped. “Say her name.”
He ran a rough hand over his head, cupping the back of his neck. “Stop it. This isn’t solving anything.”
“You said you wanted to air our dirty laundry. You were gonna make it all better, like some kind of freaking miracle worker or magic time traveler. So? Let’s air it all out.”
“Not this.”
“Why not? Stop acting like she wasn’t a part of our lives.”
“What difference does it make now? She’s gone. You need to let it go.”
“Let it go?” She blinked in surprise. “You must have brass balls and no soul to say that to me. I will never, for as long as I live, let her go. That’s the difference between you and me. That’s the irony in all this. You never really wanted her, and I can never let her go.”
“Jesus, Liv.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “How are we ever gonna move on? You can’t keep dwelling over it. Haven’t we been unhappy long enough? Haven’t you punished me long enough? It happened, nothing can change it. I couldn’t fix it then, and I can’t fix it now.”
“Stop calling her it!” The walls echoed her hoarse shout. “Use her name.”
He shook his head, turning to stare back out at the water, arms crossed.
His silent denial only increased her fury. “I want you to say her name.”
“Olivia, I’m telling you…,” he warned, leaving the threat open-ended. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were chips of blue ice. “Don’t do this.”
She couldn’t stop the flow of words to save her life. They left her mouth of their own volition, pulled straight from her soul.
“She was just a blip on your radar, wasn’t she? Barely enough to move the dial on your attention meter.” She shrugged negligently. “I get it. You only had time for The Unit. They always had your heart. Neither one of us ever did, that’s for sure. Never could and never would.”
His jaw clenched, voice grave. “Be careful with your assumptions.”
“Then talk to me! Tell me! Did you want her, Ash?” She didn’t know what motivated her to push him to the brink, except the need to make him feel an ounce of her pain. “Did you love her?”
His answer had a fifty-fifty chance of breaking her heart all over again.
“Yes,” he whispered, scrubbing a hand down his face, raw emotion replacing the mask. “I loved both of you. Very—” His voice broke and he swallowed. “Very much.”
“Then say it,” she pleaded, relieved to her core, but needing his acknowledgment. “Please. Say your dead daughter’s name.”