Ashes & Embers Series Collection (Books 1 to 4)

by Carian Cole

  He moves a little closer to me, our bodies almost touching, and I put my hand up between us and rest it on his chest. I meant it to be a resisting gesture, but as soon as I touch him, my intention falters. He feels so solid, so real, so warm . . . So much like a man. I feel dwarfed between the car and his tall, fit body. His chest and shoulders are so broad that I cannot even see around him. As I look up at him, I see a shooting star fly by in the sky over his head.

  “You have no idea how captivating you are, do you?” he says softly. “Your face and your eyes just now . . . wow.”

  “I just saw a shooting star. I haven’t seen one of those in years.” Something in the air tonight feels magical. I’m not sure if it’s from being with him, or if the stress of the past few months is slowly dissipating, allowing me to enjoy small parts of life again. Whatever it is, it feels damn good.

  “You have to make a wish, then,” he says knowingly. “Or gift it to me.”

  “What would you wish for? I need to know if it’s worthy before I gift it to you,” I murmur, my fingers very slowly rubbing the middle of his chest, as if they have little minds of their own. The fabric of his tight flannel shirt is thin and soft, letting me feel the warmth of his skin through it.

  “I’d wish you’d have dinner with me, and I’d wish I could kiss you goodnight.”

  My stomach does cartwheels, and I can feel his heart beating faster beneath my hand, just as my own is.

  “Lukas . . . that’s two wishes . . .” I whisper, suddenly barely having the ability to speak or breathe.

  He leans his head down closer to mine. “You looking at me like that, and saying my name like that, just makes me want to kiss you even more.”

  I swallow hard, unable to tear my eyes away from his. “You really shouldn’t be saying things like that,” I breathe, my voice quivering. He’s got my nerves in overdrive. Hell, who am I kidding? He’s got my entire mind and body in overdrive right now.

  He moves his hand to cup the side of my face. “Close your eyes, Ivy. Let’s make our wishes at the same time.”

  Lukas is a wizard, and I’ve quickly fallen under his spell. My eyes flutter closed, and his lips touch mine, so softly that we are barely touching at all, but it’s enough to make me see even more shooting stars, this time behind closed eyes, in that place where magic happens. His kiss is completely unexpected but way too perfect to not let myself have. I drop my bag to the ground and bring my hands up to rest on his shoulders. He kisses me a little harder, his tongue gently touching my lips, silently asking permission for more. Parting my lips, I let him kiss me deeper, his tongue slowly meeting mine, caressing in enticing circles. The feel of his tongue piercing and lip ring is so strange to me, yet incredibly erotic. I think I like it. His hand goes to my hip, pulling my body possessively but gently against him, as his kisses grow more passionate and urgent. My legs begin to shake with timid desire, my hands squeezing his muscled shoulders, hanging on to him in this sudden dizzying realm he’s led me into. Did a first kiss ever feel like this before? Has any kiss ever felt like this before? No. Not for me. Not ever.

  He oozes skilled sensuality; every touch, every breath, every kiss is measured in perfect timing and depth. This is not an awkward, clumsy, rushed, and horny boy touching me for kicks. Not by a long shot. He’s savoring everything. And I don’t want him to stop.

  Grasping my waist with both hands, he effortlessly lifts me up onto the hood of my car, bringing me closer to eye level with him. He moves between my parted legs, guides my thighs around his jean-clad hips, and covers my mouth with his again, kissing me long, deep, and tantalizingly slow as he gently holds my face in his hands. It’s the kind of kiss that brands complete want and ownership. He leaves no doubt that he wants me. The logical part of me is telling me to stop him, but the lonely, aching part of me takes over, and I slide my hands up his chest and over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck. My fingers tangle in his long silky hair, and I love how new and different it feels. Everything about him is so different, like tasting an exotic food for the first time that quickly leads to crazy indulgence. That magnetic pull I felt the first time I laid eyes on him is a force to be reckoned with right now. It’s controlling me, taking over every part of me, squashing my fears and reservations, and paving a very clear path that leads directly to this man. I cannot even begin to understand or make the tiniest bit of sense of this attraction. But it’s there, and it’s stronger than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.

  Suddenly, he stops kissing me, his lips just a whisper away from mine, and stares into my eyes for a few moments, before letting his dark eyes slowly close. He pulls me closer against his body, his hard cock pressing against me through our clothes, sending a hot surge of raw desire through me.

  What I glimpsed in his eyes shook me even more than his kiss.

  Passion.

  Affection.

  Desire.

  All feelings that carry the ability to give immense pleasure and pain. Neither of which I am ready for.

  I slowly try to pull myself away from him, but he holds me close against him.

  “Wow,” I say breathlessly, leaning my head against his shoulder.

  “Come upstairs with me, and let’s see if we can upgrade that to a holy shit,” he whispers, his hand resting on the back of my neck, gently squeezing.

  My insides quiver at his words. I am so out of my league right now with him. Could I actually please a man like this, with my lack of experience, not to mention my very not-perfect body? I wonder, if I buy the thigh master and do it for ten hours a day, what kind of results I can achieve in a week, coupled with one of those cabbage soup diets maybe.

  “Lukas, I can’t. I really have to go home . . .”

  He doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he takes my hands in his and holds on to them between us while his eyes seek out mine.

  “Don’t be nervous.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “Come upstairs with me. I want to sit on the couch with you and hold you and kiss you for hours. We don’t have to do anything else. I just don’t want this feeling to end.” His eyes are full of hope and want, reflecting my own emotions. I feel so connected to him, like everything we are feeling is the same. Equal. Together.

  God, I want him. So bad. I cannot think of anything that would be better than being in his arms for hours. His kisses and touches are a slice of heaven I have never even dreamed of, and I want more.

  I try to catch my breath and regain my composure. “I can’t. It’s getting late, and I really don’t want my daughter worrying about where I am. She’s not used to me not being home.”

  He nods and takes a long, deep recovering breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  He lifts me up and places me back on my feet again. “You’re beautiful,” he says, pushing my hair over my shoulder. “I couldn’t wait to see you again today. I’ve never felt like that about a client before.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I reach down to pick up my bag, my hand shaking. I want to believe I’m shaking from standing out in the cold, but I know it has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the affect he’s having on me.

  “Maybe to find out if you felt it, too?”

  I can’t hide my smile as I look at this insanely gorgeous guy in front of me. Insanely gorgeous young guy. That I have no business to be making out with in a dark parking lot like a teenager.

  “Lukas . . .” I can’t lie to him. He’s way too honest to be fed lies. I refuse to not acknowledge the immense good I see in him, even after only a few hours of talking. “You are an amazing guy. Really. In a different time or place . . . I would be jumping all over you. I felt it, too. As much as I was excited about the tattoo, I was equally excited to see you again. There’s something very special about you. But . . . I’m a mess.” I shrug and his smile slowly fades, as I’m sure mine is, as well. “I just can’t have any more complications in my life right now. I have to get my life together and take care of my kids. I’m
in no position to be doing this with someone like you.”

  He flinches. “Someone like me?”

  I touch his arm and shake my head. “I meant young like you. We’re in totally different places in life.”

  “I was in your place in life a long time ago, Ivy. Way before I should have been. Don’t judge me by my age or think I’m some immature kid.”

  “I know you’re not. I can see that. Trust me.”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “I’m not going to keep you here to argue this out. I know you have to go, and I don’t want your daughter to be worried.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Drive safe, and I’ll see you at your next appointment.” I breathe in the scent of him before he pulls away. He smells so good—a mix of incense from the shop and his cologne.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I murmur. “I really enjoyed talking with you and getting to know you.”

  “Same here, Sunshine. You have no idea how much. My dinner invitation stands—any time you’re ready to accept it.”

  I get in my car and watch him walk around to the other side of the building, away from the shop entrance, so I assume the door to his apartment must be over there. Squinting in the dark, I see a balcony off the side of the building that I didn’t notice before. A new light turns on upstairs, and he walks by the window, pulling his shirt over his head. Even in the shadows, I can see how muscular he is. Great, Ivy. Don’t be a voyeur now, on top of everything else.

  Regret fills me as the light goes out, and I wonder if he’s in his bed right now, if he’s thinking about me. I wish I could have gone upstairs with him and spent more time with him. Somehow, he makes everything feel better. Even just talking to him, I felt relaxed, happy, more myself. More like the girl I used to be . . . like Charlene is now, as Paul so aptly pointed out. At least I don’t scrape plaque for a living, Charlene.

  And guess what else, Charlene. Paul will never kiss you the way Lukas just kissed me. That much I know without a doubt.

  I start my car and turn the heat on, giving it a few minutes to warm up. I’m still breathless and reeling from his kisses and feeling his hard body pressed against mine. My panties are wet from wanting him so much. As I stare up at his window, my mind wanders to the feel of his piercings against my soft flesh, and now I know why some women squeal over men with piercings. What that must feel like in other places . . .

  My cell phone rings, the noise scaring me out of my daydream. I dig it out of my purse and see it’s my home number on the caller I.D.

  “Hi, Macy,” I answer cheerfully.

  “Mom, where are you? It’s after ten.” Role reversal can happen so unexpectedly.

  “I know, honey,” I say, flustered. “My appointment lasted longer than I expected. I’m on my way home. I’ll be there in less than half an hour.” I pull out of the parking lot, hoping Lukas doesn’t see I was still sitting in my car watching his windows.

  “Well, why did I have to come home if you were staying out late?” my daughter demands. “I could have stayed out with my friends longer.”

  Jesus. My first night out after dark, and I’m already battling with my teenager.

  “Because you’re supposed to be home at ten. That’s why.”

  She sighs in exasperation. “Seriously, Mom, I’m almost eighteen. None of my friends have to be home by ten. It’s totally lame. Now that Dad is gone, can you just forget that and let me stay out later? I don’t drink or anything. We just hang out and talk or get coffee.”

  “Macy, your father is not gone. We’re separated, but he is still your father, and your curfew was his rule.”

  “Yeah, Dad isn’t exactly great at sticking to the rules himself, now is he?”

  Grinding my teeth, I try to pay attention to the road as the familiar pounding in my head returns. “We talked about those comments, Macy. I know this is difficult. It is for all of us.”

  “Not for Dad, just the rest of us.”

  I silently agree with her. Paul got to move in with Charlene the Great, and meanwhile, the kids and I have been thrown into an unwanted mess.

  “Sweetie, I know. Things will get better.”

  “Tomorrow, I’m supposed to hang out with Shelly. Can I at least stay out ’til midnight? Or can she come here? We’re going to do a Vampire Diaries marathon.”

  Crap. Tomorrow night I’m supposed to have dinner with Tim, a guy I work with. He cornered me in the break room every day for two weeks until I agreed to go out with him. I refuse, however, to consider it a date. When I agreed to have dinner with him, I figured it would shut him up for a few days, and then I could cancel a few days before, telling him I had to do something with the kids. And of course, I’ve had such a week from hell that I forgot to do that, so now it would be rude to call him tomorrow morning and cancel at the last minute, especially when I have to see him every day. You would think, with me working in Human Resources, I would know better than to ever agree to engage in any kind of out-of-office interactions, which, oddly enough, the company I work for doesn’t have a policy against. I make a mental note to bring that up at the next staff meeting.

  “Mom? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

  “Yes, I just remembered I have to go out tomorrow night for work, so why don’t you have Shelly over? She can sleep over if she wants.”

  “Awesomeness! I’m gonna go call her right now. Love ya.” She ends the call, done with me.

  Later that night, as I’m sitting on the bed applying lotion to my tattoo and admiring how beautiful it is, the memory of Lukas’ hands lingering on my leg as he worked on me, how little electric tingles raced up my spine at his touch, come to the forefront of my mind. I haven’t felt like that in so very long, if ever at all. I wanted him to keep touching me, and I wanted to get my hands all over him, too. I wonder if tattoos cover his entire body. What would it feel like to glide my hands over those muscles and twist my fingers in his long hair?

  As I’m getting into bed, I find a tiny black feather on my pillow. Frowning, I pick it up, wondering where it came from. I open my nightstand drawer and tuck it into the corner. It’s too pretty to throw away.

  Snuggling under the sheets, I’m exhausted but unable to fall asleep because I can’t get these thoughts of Lukas out of my head. I can’t understand why he’s interested in me. Could it be some sort of joke? He really didn’t strike me as the game playing type, though. I can’t help but wonder why someone like him would be interested in me? I’m old, boring, and I have stretch marks. I have two kids. Clean laundry is the highlight of my weekend, and my life is a mess. Why would a hot young guy want anything to do with any of that? It makes zero sense.

  Despite all that, I can’t deny that I really like him. He’s sweet, considerate, talented, and definitely knows how to kiss. I never thought a kiss could make me feel so much, not just within myself, but to actually be able to feel emotion coming from him as he kissed me. It was nothing short of incredible. I would have loved to go upstairs with him to kiss him all night, but I doubt it would have stopped there, and I’m not ready to get naked in front of anyone. I don’t think I’ll ever be. My own husband didn’t even want to have sex with me, so I’m pretty sure Lukas would be repulsed by me.

  Rolling over onto my side, I decide all I have to do is get through one, possibly two more appointments, and then I won’t have to see him anymore, which is probably for the best. Then this little excursion of random excitement will be over, and I can go back to my boring life as a pending thirty-something divorcee with no life.

  CHAPTER 7

  IVY

  THE NEXT DAY, when I drag my ass out of my bed and go down to the kitchen for coffee, I find Macy staring out the kitchen window like a rabid animal.

  “Holy hell, Mom,” she says excitedly when she sees me. “That snow guy you hired is so cute!”

  Snow guy? Confused, I watch her go to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water as she continues talking. “I’m going to go bring him some water because he loo
ks hot and dehydrated. But mostly hot.”

  “What? What snow guy?” I ask her, still not following the conversation. “Macy, what are you talking about?” She skips out the back door before I have a chance to stop her and get some answers.

  I didn’t hire a handyman yet, so I assume that Paul sent someone over here to take care of the shed roof, to let himself off the hook. I grab my coffee cup, hoping Paul is paying this guy so I don’t have to, and look out the window to see my daughter talking to a very muscular young man with long black hair just past his shoulders, wearing a black thermal shirt, faded jeans, and workboots, who’s standing next to our shed with a shovel. I can see the tattoos on his hands from here.

  Oh, damn. It’s Lukas.

  What the—?

  I watch as my beautiful daughter flirts with him, playing with her hair, and standing way too close to him. She’s wearing a tight sweater, her favorite jeans, and big fuzzy boots. She tilts her head, giggling at something he’s saying. They actually look really cute next to each other.

  Oh no. This cannot be happening.

  I feel like a squirrel in the middle of the road with an oncoming car, going this way and then that way and then the other way again. Total confusion of epic proportions.

  Should I be feeling jealous? No. But I do.

  Should I be glad that a guy as nice, talented, and caring as Lukas might be interested in my daughter’s attention? Yes. He’d definitely treat her a lot better than the last boy she dated, who I caught trying to sneak into her bedroom like a little perv. I kicked his ass right out of here.

  But I don’t want Lukas interested in my daughter for any reason, because all I can think of is how he kissed me, and the passion I saw in his eyes, and how he made my legs weak. I can’t even think about him making my daughter feel that way, because I want him for myself, not to mention that I don’t want my little girl feeling that way until she’s at least thirty.

  I watch him from the window for signs of flirting with Macy, but I don’t see any, and I’m ashamed to admit I’m glad.