Down to Ash (#Dirtysexygeeks Book 2)

by Melissa Blue

  He opened the bottle and took a long sip. The liquid burned its way down. He exhaled before muttering, “Fine now?”

  She frowned at him. “You're probably going to need a second bottle.”

  Her tone was so matter-of-fact, Victor laughed. They were back on safer ground. He was starting to feel like a yo-yo, though—annoyed with her, aroused by her, amused and then relaxed around her. Rinse and fucking repeat. His head was swimming, and not from the booze.

  Shit. He wished it was the liquor.

  “Something else to pout about.” The second swig left him warm and less tense. So he took another.

  “Better?” he asked her.

  She bit the corner of her lower lip, seeming to weigh her answer. “I don't know. You're still scowling, but that could just be your resting bitch face.”

  He shook his head and handed her the bottle. “Don't drink any. Just hold that for me in case I need it.”

  “If you're nice, I'll even share my meal.”

  “Why, thanks,” he said dryly as he turned back to the stove to drop the pork chops into the pan.

  She said in a roundabout way, “I figured I should offer you food since you might hack into my phone and find topless pictures of me.”

  He cringed. Not one of his finest moments. A few weeks back, Lauren had threatened Grady. In the woman's mind she'd been protecting her sister Eva from Grady. Victor had seen Lauren as a real and serious threat, and then had gotten drunk and forgotten that he wasn't at war anymore. Mutual destruction wasn't necessary when a simple conversation could solve the problem.

  But how the hell did she know?

  “Porter talks too much. And I would never do that to you.”

  “Exactly.”

  What the fuck did that even mean? He cut a sharp glance her way.

  She was looking at him, a curious expression on her face. Not pissed or annoyed, but like she was trying to figure him out. He liked that expression so much better.

  Fuck. Maybe he shouldn't have downed that much whiskey on an empty stomach. There was a burn low in his chest, and his limbs felt loose.

  She blinked and looked away. “Did I tell you I rec'd you to my boss?”

  “Yes, Ash, you did.”

  She palmed the neck of the bottle, stroked it slowly, almost in an absent matter, as she looked at him.

  He raised a brow and tried not to groan. But his dick had already decided to stay on that bandwagon. He was going to tent his pants soon.

  She flushed, dropping her hand to her lap. “What?” She licked her lips in a nervous gesture.

  The flash of pink sent his mind down a very dirty, much more naked train of thought. Stop it, dammit. She probably hadn't meant to telegraph stroking his cock.

  Maybe.

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  “You weren't scowling. More?” She held up the bottle.

  He forced himself to focus on the food. “When I'm done cooking.”

  “So you are staying to eat with me? I don't want to eat alone.”

  The touch of vulnerability in the question hit him. He had to roll his shoulders so the plea couldn't dig in and make him stupid. “It's no problem, Ash. Relax. The food should be done in a few minutes.”

  When he brought the plates to the table, she pushed the bottle to his side. “You still need to drink.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “You're frowning now. I want a smile.” She used her hands to demonstrate. “A big one.”

  He shook his head. “When I'm laughing there's a smile. Kind of can't avoid it.”

  “But a laugh-smile is very different from a regular ol' smile.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Then I don't smile.”

  She leaned forward and inched the whiskey closer. “Why is that?”

  He narrowed his eyes to slits. “Eat your food, Ash.”

  “Take your de-assholing medicine, Vic.” She picked up her fork, waited until he swallowed some whiskey to take the first bite of the pork. “You can cook.”

  Warm. He was too warm from the liquor. Victor pushed the bottle to the middle of the table. “Thanks.”

  She shoved the booze back toward him and grinned. Ash smiled enough for the both of them and was better at it. He was too fucking warm if he noticed that.

  Ash asked, “Are you going to answer my question?”

  “You've asked about forty-million since I picked you up. Did I answer any of those other questions? I take that back. When do I ever answer you?”

  “Never, but it's still worth a try. And how long have we known each other? You should know by now I'm a shot-glass half-full kind of person.” She scooted the whiskey back his way. “The seasoning is perfection. I'm really impressed.” She went in on the rice and moaned. “I'm either drunk or this is the best food ever.”

  “Both.” He swallowed back a laugh so he wouldn't smile again.

  She broke the gaze to stare at her plate. “I know why you don't smile. I just want to hear it from you.”

  The laugh died in his throat. “I'm going to choke Porter.”

  “Not him. It's just that Grady...you know. He's the one that takes care of everyone. For a while, he was a hawk around you. And you were...”

  Whatever she’d thought Victor was when he’d come home couldn't possibly have been close to the reality. He set his fork down and leaned back in the chair. “As he would say, we all have our own shit.”

  “What's yours?”

  “What's yours?” he parroted back.

  She opened her mouth to speak but said nothing at first. Her exhalation was rough as she shook her head. Finally, she whispered, “I want my brother's friend, and he acts like he can't even see me.”

  His amusement at her drunkenness slowly fell away. She saw too damn much. Kept too little to herself. She didn't hide from anything, no matter how destructive. But she wasn't all impulse. Ash picked her moments.

  They were alone and maybe in the exact sort of situation she'd waited on to pounce.

  And worse, so much worse, he could almost taste her yearning. He can't even see me. For too many years to count, he'd struggled not to see her as Ash, but as Porter's little sister instead. He’d struggled not to see the tight low-cut shirts. To not get dragged into a conversation. At one time, to not even reply to her letters. All because Victor knew if he ever gave in, a tidal wave of pent-up emotion would drown them both. Sitting with her like this, even for a moment, was enough for that wave to beat at his skull.

  Victor refused to give. Too much would be lost.

  He reached over and edged her plate closer. “Eat.”

  She laughed. The bitterness in the tone replaced any mirth that had been in it. “Exactly.”

  The hurt expression that followed dug into him. He had to look away—move away—from her, or else he'd do something dumb like give her exactly what she wanted, and in every position.

  He picked up the bottle, took another swig, and rose to put it back in the cabinet.

  The whiskey didn't burn going down that time and that should have worried him. And still the steady intake of booze wouldn't stop him from going home. He'd walk if he had to. Another minute in her space just might be the death of him.

  When he turned around, there she was, her eyes wide. He could see straight through them to her every emotion—frustration, anger and...lust. He’d had too much to drink if he couldn't ignore the last emotion.

  “Ash—”

  “I'm not your sister, Vic.” She threw the words at him like they were a damning accusation.

  She was close enough he could smell her again. The peaches and cream was mixed with strawberries and alcohol. Slowly, the rest of his body became aware of the small amount of space that separated them.

  Didn't take long for him to see her last foray into her bra had stretched the dress tight against her breasts. He could make out the lace, the hard points of her nipples. The room wasn't cold, so that meant she was aroused—aroused by him.

  Fuck. Fuck.

&
nbsp; This shit was going sideways.

  She was smart, cunning and pissed. Also stubborn. Not a good combination for his plan to take care of her and leave—that and only that.

  “Step back,” he said, his voice gruff and sharp.

  Anyone else he'd see as a threat and act accordingly, but this was Ash poking at him. He'd let her in close, assuming she was too drunk to do any damage.

  “You think I don't know.” She sounded surprised. “You might as well pull my pigtails and call me ugly names.”

  “You're not making any sense.” His stomach tightened at just how close to the truth she was skirting. “This right here, right now, is why I treat you the way I do. I'm trying to make sure you're fed and that you don't make an ass out of yourself, and what do you do? You start talking in riddles and accusing me of...what? I'm not even sure. What would Porter think about you acting like this?”

  “You know exactly what I'm talking about. And what am I doing? I'm making you look at me, really look at me. And Porter...” She lifted her chin and glared at Victor. “I love him. I do. That's—This thing between us is driving me and you crazy. We argue, we laugh, we bicker. Nothing feels right because we pretend that this tension doesn't exist. So...look at me, Vic. We're alone and we can...do whatever. So for fucking once in your life look at me.”

  And he was. His gaze ate up every inch her dress revealed. She took another step and the heat of her almost engulfed him. He balled his fists to keep from dragging her closer. Or burying his hands in her hair. Or grabbing her face and kissing her until she melted.

  “You're drunk,” he said.

  “Tipsy, but so are you.” She tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “Don't worry. When I say yes, I'll mean it.”

  He couldn't touch her so pushing her away was out, but retreating would put his back into a corner. What he could do to her—anyone if he felt caged in—woke him up in a cold sweat at night.

  “What do you want, Ash?” he asked, his jaw clenching.

  She blinked, looking surprised at the question. Then she narrowed her eyes. “A kiss.”

  It was his turn to blink. “What?”

  “Kiss me. Get me out of your system,” she said like it could ever be that simple. “Then maybe you'll stop being a dick whenever I'm around.”

  The idea of putting his lips on hers—or on her anywhere—held too much appeal. His dick thought it was the best idea in the history of ever. “Go back to the table and eat, for fuck’s sake.”

  She took another step and tilted her head back. “Kiss me, Vic. I won't live up to whatever fantasy you've had of me. We can get it over with and finally be real friends, or at least friendly.”

  If he put his mouth on her, they damn sure wouldn't be friends.

  “That argument makes no sense,” he said. “And you just said—”

  “What did I say, huh? I want to hear you speak the words.”

  The kiss wouldn't just be for his benefit. She wanted him, too. Maybe if he wasn't such a hard-ass, something would have happened a long time ago, but that part of his personality was why he was still alive. It was definitely why he still had a friendship with Porter. So he couldn't give into her demand.

  She pressed against him. Fuck. He would have to touch her. If she stood this close for another minute, she'd know just how pretty he thought she was. He grasped her arms just as she made a disgruntled noise. By the next blink her lips were on his.

  It was a quick peck that still walloped him. Her mouth was soft and warm. She fucking tasted of strawberries.

  He glared down at her, very close to...hell. He didn't know what he would do. The heat of her mouth had left him branded.

  “See,” she said, breathless and flushed again. “Now get over it.”

  His hands were still wrapped around her arms. He pivoted and pushed her against the fridge. Shit. He was going to lose control if he didn't stop touching her, but he couldn't let her go—not while she still had determination in her eyes.

  “You do too much, Ash. Stop it.”

  “Didn't work? Fine.” She rose onto the tips of her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

  He would have rather have ripped off his lips with his bare hands than to have kissed her back. So he tightened his jaw and growled at her. His head was swimming from the heat of alcohol and Ash.

  She pulled back a little and murmured, “This won't work until you purse your lips, too.”

  “Porter,” he said as though the name alone could put them back on the right track.

  Yeah, right.

  His friend had been the last person to cross his mind when her lips were on his.

  “Saying another man's name while we’re kissing feels odd, don't you think?” She kissed him again, quick and without hesitation.

  “I'm going to wring your fucking—”

  She nipped his bottom lip, soft and slow, and whatever thought he had flew out of his mind. His entire world teetered on a very dangerous edge. That was until she sucked his lip into her mouth before pulling back.

  “Better,” she whispered. “I'm a mouth biter. But I'm tipsy, so it's a miracle my aim is on point and that I didn't Mike Tyson the kiss. Are you over me now?”

  He jerked her up to... Fuck he still didn't know. He was hot, dizzy, and his libido was sprinting past horny as shit.

  “Porter,” he tried again, but it wasn't enough. Not even close.

  His blood rushed and there was just Ash, flushed and soft.

  She shook her head. “You're so damn stubborn. Just do—”

  He slammed his mouth against hers to shut her up. Or at least that's what he tried to tell himself. But her lips were so damn soft. And he'd lost his grip the moment she sank her teeth into him. He'd just wanted to bite her back.

  And now...Victor was going to.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ~Gamer Truth: Don't pick intelligence. You die fast and it's no fun.~

  There was no undoing his actions. No way. Victor was breaking a brotherhood rule. Essentially dropping the relationship equivalent of an atomic bomb on his friendship—or friendships, rather. Only a pansy would fuck up half-assed or use the excuse that she'd kissed him first or blame alcohol.

  And unlike her, he knew there wasn't any “getting her out of his system” method. He'd tried everything but giving in to his need for her. It wasn't just dumb, but an act of betrayal.

  But...she was breathing heavily and her breasts were jostling into his view. Her mouth begged him to take a taste—just fucking once.

  So Victor clasped her wrists, then pinned them above her head with one hand. With the other he cupped her chin and waited until her gaze clashed with his.

  Yeah. She'd kissed him first, but he was going to finish it. In ways...He clamped down on the vicious thought seating at the back of his mind. She'd be safe from the man he'd become.

  “Don't move,” he growled at her.

  Her eyes widened. If she had a protest, his mouth ate the reply as he did his best to devour her. He bit at her soft lips first—fair play.

  She moaned, parting her mouth. He licked his way in, tonguing her deeper, pushing her head up until all she could take was him. The blood in his head roared in his ears.

  Her quiet pants weren't enough to sate him. So he kept dipping his tongue into her, slow and deep. He wanted her to think that's how he'd fuck her. He needed her sex to clench at the thought that would be exactly how he'd spread the folds of her pussy and lick inside her. Eat her up like she was his last meal, and she would be.

  Victor kissed her in all the ways he'd dreamed about. He ran through those mental images burned in his mind and he started a new reel because fantasy had become reality, and he didn't believe in fucking up halfway. He had to do it right the first time because he may not get a second chance.

  He sucked, licked, and nipped at her mouth—her tongue—and still he didn't stop. Her every exhalation was a moan, and she was trembling.

  Not good enough. Not enough period. He wanted her to...

&nbs
p; He wanted her.

  That need pumped his blood and soaked his brain with only one thought—take her. Take all of her.

  She moaned, “Vic,” against his mouth and that, finally, snapped him out of the frenzy.

  Reel it in. Don't hurt her. He still took another second to release her hands, but he kept his hold on her chin. His breath came hard and fast like he'd been running. The haze wasn't clearing from his mind.

  Her lips were swollen. She flicked her tongue over her top lip. “Why'd you stop?”

  Leave. Don't lean back in. This is Ash.

  But Ash splayed her hands over his belt buckle.

  Her gaze went to his mouth. “You taste good, Vic.”

  He knew better. Didn't doubt for a second taking her mouth again would be suicide, but she was unbuckling his belt. He could push her hands away, walk out and act like this never happened. He damn well should.

  The right thing to do pounded at him. He closed his fists over her wrists to still her movements. Leave. Don't do this to your friend.

  “Vic, look at me. This is for us. Just you and me. We want this. Let me touch you.” She fought against his hold and he let her go.

  “Shit. Goddammit,” he muttered, feeling himself give in.

  “You forgot motherfucker,” she said in a playful tone.

  Victor groaned instead of laughing and nipped her chin. “Ash...”

  “Just you and me, Vic. Right here, right now. What we want is sex. Simple as that.”

  He almost asked “Why now? Why today?” but he knew Ash. For her, the answer would be simple. They were finally alone and there was so much heat between them. Ash wasn't one of those people who merely said they lived with no regrets—she lived and breathed that mantra.

  “Let us have this,” she said.

  Her scent was getting to him, making him hungry for more. “I haven't really tasted you yet.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

  She was Lucifer's incarnate, but that didn't stop Victor from tracing her jaw with his tongue as she unzipped his jeans. When she gripped his cock through his boxers, he sucked hard at the crook of her neck. She dropped her head back exposing more of her sweet skin.