Bits and pieces came back to me from last night. A girl dancing all up on me. Ash up on a bar doing shots. Standing and talking with Johnny. And Connor.
“Connor,” I mumbled, even my mouth feeling heavy and sleepy.
“Yeah, he said he saw you drink something before you passed out. Have some water.” Ash handed me a large bottle and sat with me, coaxing me to finish nearly the whole thing.
I needed to sleep some more. I tried to fight it. He said I’d already slept for 14 hours, but I couldn’t stay awake any more than I could fly.
“Where are we?” I managed, my eyelids stubbornly refusing to open, my head sinking deeper onto Ash’s shoulder.
“My cabin in Mammoth.”
“What?” That breathed a bit of life into me. My eyes not exactly wide but at least partially open, I looked around me. A rustic antler chandelier overhead, wide-beamed wooden planks underfoot, we nestled on an oversized leather couch in front of a gigantic stone fireplace. Had he said Mammoth? Like the prehistoric wooly mammoth creature?
I must have said that last bit out loud because Ash chuckled and pulled me closer, kissing the top of my head. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t you rest some more?”
“Was going to New York,” I whispered, trying to make sense of this, my body sinking into him with complete trust but my mind reeling about, foggy and confused and upset.
“I’ll keep you safe.” He kissed me on my head. And with that I was out again like a light.
§
I didn’t know what time it was when I woke up again, but I could see it was dark outside the windows. Lights were on inside, though, and the fire still burned.
From somewhere I could hear a piano, the notes lilting and flowing out. It was Ash playing, I knew instantly. He had a way of expressing himself, showing how he felt through the keys. He was playing that song, the tune he’d first played for me at the arena in Santa Clara. So haunting, aching. The melody had grown from that first time, developed through us playing it again, together, expanding and deepening. It pulled at me.
But even more than that, I really needed to pee. Slowly, I brought myself up to sitting. Then slowly, oh so slowly, up to standing. I realized I was wearing a too-big sweatshirt and sweatpants. They must belong to Ash.
Ash was at my side in a second. “Are you OK?”
“Bathroom,” I managed. He helped me over to it. I wondered if that’s what it felt like to get old, when meeting bodily needs seemed to pose a nearly insurmountable challenge. Ash would take good care of me if we grew old together.
Where had that thought come from? Clearly I was still under the influence of some kind of drug much more powerful than mere alcohol.
Door closed, I took my time, as if I could have done anything else. Cold water felt good splashed on my face, and I found a washcloth to remove some of the more ridiculous clown-like smudges of makeup. Nothing could be done about my hair, though. It had a life all its own, standing up proud and tall like a 1960s beehive. So be it. Nothing but a long, hot shower could tame that mane.
When I finally emerged, Ash met me and walked me again over to the couch. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got run over by a truck. Did I?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Because I can’t remember a damn thing about last night.”
“I guess you did some shots. And had something else to drink which I have to guess was laced with something. Could have been rohypnol, or GHB, or zolpidem. Or even a benzodiazepine, like temazepam or midazolam.”
I looked at him. “Did you just start speaking another language?”
He dropped his head, looking slightly bashful. “I know a lot about drugs.”
“Are you a pharmacist on the side?”
He looked up at me and shrugged his shoulders. “Ana, I’m not a perfect man. Far from it. But give me a shot.”
“Ash, I literally don’t even know where I am right now.” Was he trying to have a relationship conversation?
“Sorry, right.” He hustled away, then returned with a fresh water bottle and a mug of what looked like tea. “Here, keep hydrated.”
I drank. “So you think I got drugged?”
He nodded. I wished I could remember more about last night, but it was like trying to recollect a strange dream, the fragments appearing then twisting away before I could collect them and make sense of it all.
“I think I need more Advil.” He brought me some more, and I washed them down, starting to feel just the slightest bit more human.
“The last person I remember seeing was Connor.”
Ash nodded. “He found you right before you passed out.”
Had he also given me a drink? Possibly the drugged drink? I wished I could remember. “You don’t think he…?”
“No,” Ash dismissed my unfinished question. “No way. Connor wouldn’t do that to you.”
I didn’t exactly share his confidence, but I had other fish to fry at the moment anyway. “So, where exactly am I? Because I thought I had plans to go to New York.”
“You did.” He nodded, looking a bit grim. “But I brought you here to a remote cabin in the California wilderness instead. Without your consent.”
My eyes widened. Nothing like ripping off the Band-Aid. “Excuse me, what?”
“I kidnapped you.” He shrugged. I didn’t find it cute.
“Ash, are you joking?” I looked around and he really didn’t seem to be joking. I was surrounded by a rustic mountain cabin. An expensively-decorated, four-to five-million-dollar range rustic mountain cabin, but still. What the fuck?
“You were passed out.”
“Because someone drugged me.”
“And I didn’t want you to fly to New York. I wanted to spend some time with you. So I rented a car and drove us here.”
“Without my consent.”
He nodded.
“While I was passed out.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Ash, that’s so fucked up and creepy!”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
I looked around, not sure whether his ready agreement creeped me out more or calmed me down. Crazy people didn’t know they were crazy, right?
I had been planning on flying back to New York today, but I hadn’t bought my ticket yet. My parents didn’t expect me back for another few days, nor did my boss at the library or my piano students. It wasn’t a disaster. But it wasn’t what I’d planned. And he hadn’t exactly asked me first.
“Where are we again?”
“Mammoth. Near Yosemite.”
“In the mountains?”
He nodded. “And I may as well tell you we’re in the middle of a huge snowstorm. We won’t be able to get out of here for a few days.”
“What?” Now I remembered hearing something about it, people talking about the West Coast storm of the century at the party before his show. People from California were saying they might spend an extra night or two in Vegas instead of trying to fly back into delays and possible airport closures.
To offer confirmation, Ash walked over to a sliding glass door and flicked on a light switch. Outside, thick swirls of white enshrouded every inch.
“Oh my God.”
“We’ve got plenty of food and firewood and a generator in case we lose electricity.”
“You are crazy.” Who did that, driving to a remote cabin, intentionally cutting yourself off from civilization in the midst of a massive storm? I could practically hear my mother’s voice in my ear, asking if we had enough canned goods and had we checked for batteries in all of the flashlights.
“Yeah, I am. But I’ll take good care of you while we’re here.” He smiled and I felt the start, just the slightest start of something else in me. Something not like a headache or a hangover or storm-induced panic. Something warm in response.
“Are you hungry? I’m not much of a cook but I can boil some mean pasta.”
My stomach rumbled in response. I realized I hadn’t eaten in over
24 hours. It was loud enough that he heard it and, chuckling, he headed into the kitchen.
I sat on the couch. Not only did my legs not exactly feel like standing up, I wasn’t ready to cheerfully pitch in on a romantic cabin dinner together. I still felt so disoriented. Hadn’t I been wanting a break from Ash?
It was still hard to remember much of last night, but I could remember feeling like I needed to get away. Catching glimpses of Ash with all those celebrities. We’d been in the same room and yet I’d felt miles apart. I’d been filled with the conviction that things were wrong between us and couldn’t be set right.
Then he emerged from the kitchen in a T-shirt and jeans, walking toward me in wool socks. It was the socks that did me in. They looked warm and homey and not at all cool. He carried two heaping bowls of pasta, topped with red sauce and parmesan cheese.
“Sorry, I just guessed that you liked sauce and cheese. I should have asked first.”
“Oh, you think? Is asking first a good idea?” I couldn’t help but jab him. You couldn’t just drag a passed-out woman off into a remote cabin in the wilderness. People didn’t do that sort of thing. Even if the cabin was like something out of a home decorating show, with accents of burnished bronze and charming antique snowshoes displayed above the fireplace. What was the ceiling, like 25 feet high? Not that something like that would impress me enough to forget how very wrongly he’d behaved.
I set my mouth into a scowl. But I couldn’t keep it like that, not as I forked a large bite of pasta into my mouth. Spaghetti, al dente. Yes, I was sure the sauce came from a jar but I could tell it was a fancy jar, some kind of gourmet sauce that probably cost over $10 a pop. I couldn’t stop a moan from escaping my mouth as I licked my lips.
“This is good.” I admitted, looking over at him. He was fixated on my lips, right where my tongue had last traveled. Heat flared up in me, but I tamped it down. What had Ash been thinking, kidnapping me like a caveman? He’d practically thrown me over his big, broad shoulder, taking me here alone where he could ravish me all day and all night. Uh oh, there was that flush again. I kept my eyes focused on my pasta and ate a while in silence.
I cleared my plate. “Thank you,” I said, placing it down on a coffee table. “I was starving.”
“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, settled next to me on the couch.
I nodded. I was. Still tired, my limbs felt heavy, but the pounding in my head was subsiding. Sitting there by the crackling warmth of the fire, Ash starting to play with a lock of my hair, I had to admit I was feeling all sorts of things. But confused was one of them.
“I’m all mixed up,” I confessed, for lack of a more sophisticated way of saying it. I guessed that was the thing about feeling mixed up, you were too mixed up to express it in a clear, coherent fashion. “I was going to leave today but you kidnapped me. The thing is, Ash, we live in completely different worlds.”
“Not right now we don’t.”
I sighed. “Not right now. But right now isn’t reality.”
“It is right now.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
He smiled slightly and kept right on twirling my hair around his finger, stroking it in the firelight. “I’m sorry you’re feeling mixed up. But I’m not sorry I kidnapped you.”
I nudged him with my elbow. “Do you realize how crazy you sound?”
He nodded. “I feel even crazier.”
Something about the husky note in his voice made me swallow. I felt so aware of his hand in my hair. This man’s physical presence affected me like no other. I’d been practically at death’s door a few hours ago, and here he was, breathing life right back into me with every stroke, every touch. A slight shiver whispered down my spine.
“Cold?” he whispered, drawing closer.
I shook my head no. He knew I wasn’t cold. He knew how he affected me. But I was still angry with him. Or at least I was supposed to be, wasn’t I?
“Want to warm up in a bath?” he whispered. “There’s a huge tub in the master suite. I could work out all of your knots.” He dropped his hand to the nape of my neck and pressed, massaging me right where I realized I did have some sore, aching muscles. A bath would feel like heaven.
He stood up. “Come on.” He extended his hand, his black hair rumpled in an un-styled way I found even more appealing than his usual sexy coif. “Let me make you feel good.”
I knew I should still be stomping my foot, maybe even yelling at him. Last night I’d resolved that I needed some space, and here he’d up and stolen me away. To his remote and fabulous cabin in the midst of the wilderness where no one could find us. It was just the two of us. Hmm.
The slightest smidge of reluctance still slowing my movements, I placed my hand in his.
True to his word, the tub in the master bath was gigantic. Fit for a king, I’d never seen anything like it. He turned on the faucets and steaming water began flowing out, rapidly filling up the basin. Outside, the wind howled and the storm raged, but inside we were safe and warm.
Ash turned to me and slowly unzipped my borrowed hoodie, slipping it down over my shoulders. I was completely bare underneath it. I didn’t remember if I’d taken off my bra from last night or not, but then I stopped wondering as he slipped his hands inside my waistband and pulled down my pants. I stepped out in just my panties and I could tell by the way he looked at me, the way his breathing picked up, he wanted to do more than look. But he held back.
“Turn around,” he instructed me and with gentle hands, he caressed my back, hips. Then he slowly drew my panties down my thighs, down to my ankles.
“Why don’t you slip into the bath?” he suggested, his voice sounding husky. The water was already halfway full, steam rising from the surface. I couldn’t resist. Dipping in one foot, then the other, I sank down into heaven.
“Oh.” I exhaled, eyes closed, my body absolutely crying out for a soak. I ducked under, submerging every inch into the heat, before rising up again with a sigh of pleasure.
“Feel good?” he asked.
“Mmmm,” was all I could manage. I might have died and passed into the next world, the feeling was so relaxing, so soothing.
“Here, give me your foot.” Ash reached down and cupped one of my feet in the palm of his hand. I let him move me more than extended my foot to him, and he took my bliss to a whole new level, slowly massaging my foot with his deft fingers.
“Ooh.” I moaned as he pressed his thumbs into the center of my foot. Oh dear Lord, he was so good at touching me, every part of me. How could a woman stay angry at a man who fixed a roaring fire, made her dinner, drew her a bath and then massaged her feet? It was scientifically proven, the level of anger ran inversely proportionate to the level of pleasure. And just then pleasure flooded through me.
He moved to the other foot and I would have promised him anything, mountains of rubies, the Mediterranean Sea, all sorts of things I didn’t have and never would, just to keep him touching me that way. Maybe this whole kidnapping thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Around at the other end of the tub, Ash brought his hands to my wet shoulders. He drew my hair to the side and began to rub my aching muscles. I must have slept in all kinds of funny positions because every muscle in my back and neck cried out for attention. Ash gave it. With magic fingers, he pressed and pulled, kneaded and worked me until I felt so flush and pliant beneath his touch. All of the tensions dissolved straight out of me into the swirling mass of bubbles, and I leaned back into his touch.
“Still mad at me?” he asked in a low voice by my ear.
“I was going to go to New York.” I managed to not entirely cave immediately.
“You can’t go anywhere in this storm.”
“I could have flown out of Vegas.”
“Yes, but I wanted you all to myself.”
Now he started in on my scalp, massaging in some shampoo, working his fingers in circles, stroking my temples. Turned out thinking got even harder when a man did that.
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“You didn’t like that party last night,” he murmured to me. What I’d found so troubling now sounded so soothing coming out of his mouth.
“It’s not my scene.” I pictured all the flash and glam, the showy see-and-be-seen vibe, the frenetic energy of everyone pushing for the spotlight.
“It’s not mine, either. Not anymore.” Ash’s voice felt nearly hypnotic, the light down low, the warm water swirling around my languid limbs. But what did he mean? He was a rock star. He strutted and posed better than anyone I’d ever seen.
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who you are,” I confessed, relaxation drawing pure honesty from me.
“Let me show you.”
He took a warm sprayer and rinsed my hair, then brought his hands back down to my shoulders, my back, my chest, rubbing, stroking, caressing, massaging.
“Ana,” he murmured, and his voice sounded so enticing, so deep and sexy I felt a low throb between my thighs. “There’s something I want to talk with you about. But I want you in the right headspace before I do.”
I felt so languid under his hands, so mesmerized by his touch, his nearness. Like he’d cast a spell on me, turning one sort of ache in my body into an entirely new sort. An ache nonetheless, but this ache felt so good.
“Yes, Ash.” I’d talk to him about anything.
“Are you ready to come out of the bath?”
I nodded and he helped me out, then wrapped me in a giant, soft towel. I dried my limbs and then he took it from me, leaving me pink and warm and entirely naked.
“Come with me.” He led me into the master bedroom. Huge and dark, he snapped on a soft lamp on the bedside table. The bed looked enormous, more than a king, with an elaborate headboard and large posts on all four corners. He pushed some of the dozens of pillows to the side, turned down the heavy satin comforter, and welcomed me into soft sheets.
I eased in, the sheets caressing my limbs. Still with his clothes on, he slipped in behind me, spooning my back to his front. With a long, luscious exhale, I sank back into him. I loved his masculine smell, the big, solid feel of him against me, the way we fit together, my ass back into his groin.
Undone, Volume 3 Page 2