ASHES (Ignite Book 3)

by R. J. Lewis

  “Fun,” he confirmed. “A lot of it.”

  “In this very clean room?”

  He chuckled lightly, pulling his hand away and crossing it back again. “You didn’t mind me between your legs just now.”

  “Like I said, I was half-asleep.”

  “You were horny as fuck.”

  I cringed at that, because it was painfully true and there was no way I could argue it without sounding like a total liar. So, I responded in my usual sarcasm. “Your word choice is very romantic. Keep going, Casanova.”

  “Want more tender words?”

  I nodded, challenging him to. What I didn’t expect was for him to lean over me, his hand on my hip, his face inches from mine. I didn’t pull away because my body was fucking loving how close he was, how foreign and exciting it was to be so attracted to someone I should have loathed.

  Staring at my mouth, he breathed, “I’m letting you get away with your little games because I know the taste of you will be worth it.”

  I swallowed. “You’ve already kissed me, Reaper.”

  He shot me the cockiest smile. “I’m talking about your pussy, Olivia.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. This cocky jerk. It was maddening to know I was laying there, gobsmacked, raided of all breath. Thankfully, he pulled away before he could see the full extent of my embarrassment. Or arousal. I wasn’t sure which one was stronger. It took me a long time to calm down. And by then the moment was over, and he was lost in his head, staring at the wall but not really taking it in.

  “You gonna leave me here the second I fall asleep?” I murmured, sleepily. I was moments away from falling out of consciousness.

  Reaper shook his head slowly. “Can’t leave you here on your own.”

  “You said you were going to go before.”

  He glanced at me, and just before I shut my eyes for the rest of the night, he muttered, “Was never intending to.”

  Twenty

  Liv

  It was a shit-show the next day. The rain hadn’t let up. I could hear it slam against the roof. I realized very quickly when I woke up in bed alone that the day was not going to end up with us wed. Not with how hectic it was out there. Shane confirmed it when he delivered my breakfast, stating a change of plans. I was relieved he didn’t question why I was out of my room, but he did stop to wearily look at me in Reaper’s bed, dishevelled looking and still half naked. After I’d eaten, he escorted me out of the room and into my other one where I quickly used the toilet and brushed my teeth.

  “We don’t have to go back to his room,” Shane tried telling me. “I can fetch you dry blankets and you can stay here.”

  “No,” I replied. “He’ll just come back to get me.”

  I didn’t know if that was true, but it was an excuse Shane seemed to agree with. We returned to Reaper’s room where I slid back under the covers. Preoccupied with something else, Shane told me to stay until he returned, and he hadn’t returned for hours.

  Lying in bed after breakfast and trying to get some more sleep in after that late night, I could hear the shouts all morning. Something had gone wrong. By noon, Reaper had come into the room, looking like he was fuming. Not at me, but at whatever it was that had gone wrong.

  He kicked his boots off and paced the room, dripping water everywhere. There was mud smeared along his arms, like he’d been digging through the ground with his bare hands. I was under the covers in bed. I watched him as he paced, thunder rolling off him louder than the thunder that erupted from the sky. I was afraid to ask him what was wrong. He was scary when he was like this. Gone was the humour from last night, and the heat between us. He barely looked at me. I might as well have not been present. I kept quiet and unmoving, determined not to catch his attention. After he stopped pacing, he stood still with his hands on his hips, and that was when he noticed me. It seemed, by the light surprise in his eyes, he had forgotten I was there.

  “You wanna go back to your room?” he asked, his voice tight with fury.

  “No,” I answered quietly. I was comfortable, and warm, and I kind of liked being in his room for reasons he would never pry out of me.

  He nodded once – maybe he was pleased? – and kept his distance, moving to where the door was. Without taking his eyes off me, he sat down on the ground next to it, back against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles. Whatever he was pissed about didn’t seem to bother him anymore, not when he was taking such interest in me.

  “Talk,” he ordered, softly.

  “About what?” I asked, taken off guard by his demand.

  “Nothing. Anything. You’re good at it.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Again, I didn’t think you understood.”

  “Is that what it takes to get you talking?”

  I sat up and rested the pillow against the headboard when I answered, “I was talking to myself, Reaper. When the other person understands the shit you say, talking shouldn’t be a one-way street.”

  He crossed his arms. “Babe, I ain’t in the fucking mood to talk. Either you keep me occupied right now, or I’ll have to go again, and I’m not too eager to reign my anger in around my men.”

  “You going to hurt someone if you go?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I got it in me to kill someone right now.”

  I acted casual, like his words didn’t chill me to the bone, though it did. “Are you this homicidal often?”

  “Often?”

  I grinned, trying to keep it light. “You have a track record for being angry, and I think I’ve known you for like two minutes.”

  “You think that was anger I showed you back in your room?”

  I looked at him oddly. “Was it not?”

  He looked half-serious, half-amused. “No, it wasn’t. I liked your little pouty fits, and I took advantage of your short fuse.”

  “My short fuse?”

  “Feisty, you’ve been craving my attention from the start.”

  “You kidnapped me.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a kidnap.”

  “I would! I got drugged and tied up in a bloody plane for god knows how long.”

  “Sounds like you had an adventure.”

  “You picked the worst pilot in the world too.”

  “Logan passed his exam. He’s certified.”

  “He’s a maniac. His landing was shocking.”

  “Yet you’re still in one piece.”

  “I had bruises everywhere.”

  His lips jutted up, and I could tell our exchange was already working on his temper. “Better to have bruises than to be dead. I’m not into cold bodies.”

  “How reassuring,” I said, dryly. “Point is, I’ve endured hell of a lot more than I should have. Having enough of that doesn’t mean I have a short fuse.”

  “I didn’t try pushing you over the edge last night,” he returned swiftly. “And you got pissy the second I got to this door. Short fuse, or not?”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “Because I –”

  “Didn’t want to be made a fool of,” he finished, chuckling deep in his chest. “Nice excuse. We gonna keep this up, babe? Our little push and pull shit, I mean. You gonna keep winding me up until I push you down and end this dance between us?”

  “Is that really what you think I’m doing?”

  “You’ve been in my bed and haven’t budged an inch. Something tells me you’re not running out of here for a reason.”

  I looked away for a split second, avoiding his eyes. “It’s warm in here.”

  “Warm,” he repeated, disbelieving.

  “Your bed’s comfy too. I like it here. I think I’ll stay.” I knew that was a load of shit. His bed was comfy, sure, but not enough to make me stick around. The whole room was dilapidated and barely held together by the aged wood that was currently creaking from the force of the wind outside. It was totally medieval. But I had to preserve my goddamn dignity somehow, even if it meant lying in the most brutally obvious way.
r />   Of course, he knew I was full of shit. That was part of the fun. He smiled slowly as he looked deeper at me, and something about this look made me a little hazy. “You really aren’t a diva, are you?” I didn’t respond, and I didn’t have to because he continued. “Your father did a good job keeping you out of prying eyes. Made everyone curious before you got here what you’d be like.”

  “Were you curious?” I wondered, unable to keep my interest from showing.

  “I’m curious about a lot of things with you,” he answered, this time looking me over slowly in a way that made me feel utterly exposed. Yet, I didn’t try covering myself with the blanket in my lap. If anything, I wanted him to look at me like that.

  “What things?” My voice was quiet, lighter. I was almost afraid to know; I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep it together.

  “Not things I’d say from this far.”

  “You’re like six feet away.”

  “That’s far.”

  It wasn’t far.

  I stared at him, waiting for him to…what? Tell me to go to him? Or was I supposed to wait for him to come to me? Judging by how comfortably he sat, I knew he wasn’t budging an inch. The asshole wanted me to do the work, just like the soda incident that had me crawling to him.

  I thought of that moment just then; I thought of how warm he felt when he pulled me to his body and made every inch of me buzz with anticipation. I felt it between my legs then, and I was feeling it now just thinking about it. I eyed the short journey I would have to take getting to him, and when my gaze settled back on his, I was sure he understood my train of thought; his smirk said it all.

  “I’m not doing that again,” I declared, firmly.

  “We can compromise,” he returned quietly, his gaze never drifting from mine. “You can sit on the edge of the bed, facing me. I can come to you.”

  At first, I was suspicious. He would come to me? It didn’t seem like something Reaper would do. He made commands and got his way. Compromise was not in his nature. But I wanted to know what he would do next.

  I turned my body facing him and slid so I was sitting on the edge of the bed. My feet were hanging off, my toes skimmed the cool floor as I adjusted myself comfortably. Then I raised a brow, waiting for him to deliver. His devilish smirk had me feeling warmth all the way to my toes.

  “What do you want me to do?” He asked this slowly, curiously.

  I blinked at him several times. We had already established what was going to happen next. Why did he want me to say it? I kept my face calm, kept my breathing at ease when I muttered, “Come to me.”

  To my utter surprise, he did. The giant, muddied, muscled man crawled to me. A short crawl because he was so big, and it was more a stride-crawl than anything by how quick he moved. And though it took two seconds, it stretched a little longer than that to me. His biceps flexed with that stride-crawl, looking ridiculously sexy for my own sanity. I swallowed hard, fighting to suppress those goddamn tingles in my core.

  He stopped right in front of me, still on his knees, his face coming up to mine. I couldn’t discern him. I was too busy looking down at his mouth when he said, “That good enough, Olivia?”

  Fuck him when he said my name. Goddammit.

  Instead of answering, I licked my lips and replied, “Now what things were you curious about?”

  He was the furthest thing from angry now. That rage he entered the room with was long gone. He came closer, his mouth hovering near mine. His hands slid under my ass, and he ran his thumbs over the hem of my underwear. I didn’t breathe. My skin broke out in goosebumps, and he made a small sound in the back of his throat.

  “Your body doesn’t take much to respond,” he observed. “Were you that sheltered?”

  “Is that part of your curiosity?” I returned.

  “I’m curious if you’re really a virgin.”

  “I thought that was made clear to you.”

  “I know a lot about girls. I know they’ve got a hell of a lot of secrets buried away.”

  I shook my head slightly, feeling strangely open to him. “You ever met my father?”

  He looked unreadable for a fleeting moment. “Once.”

  “Was once not enough for you to see how crazy he is?”

  “Crazy, or protective?”

  My shoulders relaxed as I laughed, a little less nervous at how close he was. “Protective would be an understatement. Try being followed around your whole life. Being a virgin isn’t exactly an accomplishment. I didn’t reserve myself for somebody special. There was no opportunity. I’ve never been alone.”

  “Until I kidnapped you,” he added.

  “I thought we weren’t calling it that.”

  “You really haven’t been touched?” He looked dead serious, staring at me fixedly, waiting for me to respond. Even the gentle movements with his thumbs had ceased.

  “Tony had me examined if you don’t believe me,” I told him, my voice coming off colder than I had intended. I still felt violated since that ‘examination’ in the doctor’s office with his sister present; his sister Vittoria, a woman whose heart was probably blacker than his. I’d never been more humiliated in my life.

  “I’m not talkin’ about that piece of membrane now,” he said. “I’m talkin’ about in general.”

  “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.”

  My jaw clenched. I knew what he was trying to pry out of me, but I felt guarded being honest to him like that. My gaze wavered. I looked down at his thick arms that were practically wrapped around me. Delaying my response, I asked, “How old were you your first time?”

  He didn’t waste time responding. “Thirteen.”

  My eyes widened. “And you knew what you were doing?”

  Reaper smiled softly. “Who the fuck knows anything at thirteen?”

  “How did it happen at thirteen?”

  “Boredom.”

  “Was she your girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Did you like her?”

  “No.” When I waited for more, he didn’t give it. Instead, his brows went up, expectantly. “It’s your turn now, rebel.”

  “I was sent to an all-girls school,” I explained. “Zero interaction with boys.”

  “But interaction with girls.” There was a devilish glint in his eyes as he saw straight through me.

  I smiled. “Once.”

  “She touched you?”

  “Just a kiss.”

  “Did you like her?”

  “No.”

  “Then why’d you do it?”

  I chuckled wryly, using his excuse. “Boredom.”

  He looked like he was fighting back a laugh. “How old were you, Olivia?”

  “Like sixteen.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “It was a dare, and I wanted to know what it felt like. When Disney princesses got more action than you, any pair of lips will do.”

  “That’s fuckin’ cute.”

  “I’m glad it’s cute to you.”

  He smiled wide at my tone. “You don’t like the word cute?”

  “I’m not five.”

  “I’m not blind either, feisty.”

  “I mean, cute makes me feel like I’m five.”

  “Let me make it clear to you, the last thing I think of when I say cute is of five-year olds.”

  “What do you think of when you say it?”

  “I think of innocence and softness. Like you.”

  I forced a light laugh, though my insides warmed. “Well, I’ve never been called cute in that way before.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “See, now you’re self-conscious, and that’s fuckin’ cute too.” He looked at me with this look in his eye I couldn’t quite read. It made me feel like the centre of his fucking world. I tried to compose myself with that look, but I was failing. It was a strange tense moment that ended quickly when he looked me over again like he wanted to touch me e
verywhere.

  “And that’s it?” he then pressed, suddenly solemn. “No one ever touched you? In any way? Wanted or unwanted?”

  My smile faded with his. I looked at him oddly. “Why are you asking me this?”

  He resumed his gentle thumb strokes, looking me over in that unreadable way again. “You’re going to be taking my name and sharing my bed. I want to know every inch of you, but I have to know what to watch out for.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like triggers.”

  Ah, there it was. I nodded once, understanding him now. “I’ve never been abused. My father, despite all his faults, really did protect me.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” This time he looked me square in the eye when he added, “I was referring to before that.”

  The tunnel. My mother. Bogeyman. Naynay. The Eternity Man.

  I wished I had never opened my goddamn mouth about any of that. I simply shook my head at him, an answer that wasn’t going to be accompanied with words. He nodded back, not pressing. I liked that about him; he knew when not to push.

  “So, what else are you curious about?” I quietly asked, steering the conversation back to a lighter pace.

  “It’s crude,” he warned.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I want to see you naked.”

  My cheeks immediately heated. “Really?”

  His smile returned, spreading slowly as he took in my reaction. “Really.”

  “I guess that part was obvious.”

  “Very.”

  God, it took a lot to push out, “Anywhere in particular?”

  He moved even closer now; his arms pressed against my thighs, his thumbs dug into my skin. He looked me over, his mouth barely inches from mine. “I want to know what your tits look like bare. I’ve thought about it too many fuckin’ times to count.”

  “Aren’t they all the same?”

  “Hell no, they’re not.”

  I couldn’t help how salty I sounded when I retorted, “I’m only asking because you have two jungle girls you can climb into bed with.”

  “I’m not into sloppy seconds.”

  “I thought you liked it filthy.”

  “I was pissed when I said that. I do like some dirty fucking, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not into hookers.” Jesus, he was so open. He held nothing back, and after a whole lifetime of guarded conversations, I was struggling to keep my shock at bay.