by Lindsey Hart
Asha led the way to her house and Gabriel followed wordlessly. He stopped just outside the front door and shed his soiled shoes and dusted himself off. Asha kicked off her work boots and stalked inside. She didn’t care a whit that she was dirty and sweaty and had wool stuck all over her. Oddly enough, she only became more attractive as the day wore on.
They made it through dinner without incident. He wasn’t sure why he felt like Colton was going to jump out of the woodwork or bang the front door down. Gabriel returned, reluctantly, to his cabin after, full at last. He’d meant to ask Asha all dinner just why Colton was so protective of her. He hadn’t worked up the nerve. It really wasn’t any of his business. He did wonder, as he brought out his laptop and set to work, just what it was he’d walked into.
CHAPTER 10
Asha
That night Asha dreamt of Colton. They were out in the forest, riding horses bareback together. They stopped at a clearing and he lowered her down to the mossy floor. He took her into his arms and held her, touched her passionately, awakened the fires of desire that simmered just below the surface. She felt warm, safe… loved. It was a feeling she had never had with him before. Never had with anyone.
Asha woke, drenched in sweat, a pulsing ache at the juncture of her thighs and a heaviness in her stomach. She stared into the darkness of her bedroom. That feeling of contentment remained. Was that love? That strange ache she felt in her chest? A wave of fear washed over her, cutting off her breath.
What she had with Colt was nice. Asha enjoyed their time together. She liked him as a person. He was a good man. The best. And she knew that he loved her.
There were times when she wished she wasn’t so broken. That her parents hadn’t left one morning for groceries and never returned. That, as barely an adult, she’d never had to plan their funeral. Or raise a sister who should have had a mother and father to love her.
Asha sometimes wished she could feel love the same way the rest of the world did. She knew there was something wrong with her. She couldn’t just give in and live that life that worked for everyone else. With a husband. Children. Instead she’d built her sanctuary. Her volunteers and staff and friends were her family. Even though she felt something for Colt, trusted him, was grateful to him for all he’d done for her, she just couldn’t feel what she was supposed to.
Until that dream. She’d come so close. It scared the hell out of her.
The bedside clock glowed blue in the pitch black. It was just after two in the morning. Asha debated the possibility of falling back asleep and decided it wasn’t going to happen. A strange restlessness took root in her body, giving her a jolt of energy she shouldn’t have had in the middle of the night after working a long, full day.
Asha rose silently from her bed, found a tank top, dug a black maxi skirt out of her dresser drawer and crept through the house.
One would think that the old farmhouse was full of ghosts. The ghosts of her father’s parents, who had lived and died there. The ghosts of her parents who had their lives cut so tragically short. Instead the house was alive with memories. Asha loved it. She was a part of it and it a part of her. Living in those memories, with the pictures of her grandparents, parents and sister on the wall, her bed now in their old bedroom, was the only way she could still feel close to them after a decade had passed.
The farm yard was dark as Asha slipped into her old pick up. She fired the ignition and headed off in the direction of Colt’s house. He only lived five minutes down the road. She didn’t have a whole lot of time to come up with a legitimate excuse for showing up at his house in the middle of the night, but then again she wouldn’t need one. Colt would, like he always had, just accept her the way she was.
She knew she should stop this. Give Colt everything or nothing at all. She wasn’t being fair to him. He was well off. Two years older than her, fit and healthy. Talented. Had a heart of gold. He should have sold off his parent’s farm when they retired and then gone off to find whatever it was he wanted out of life. Instead, he’d stayed. Asha knew she was the reason. She couldn’t fail to be touched. Her feelings for Colt were complicated. Gratitude, guilt, passion, tenderness… it was all a jumbled mess that she never even tried to sort out.
When they came together under the cover of darkness, there was no need to think. They could just be, just feel, give and receive passion. It wasn’t until later, when Asha was back alone in her bed, that the feelings set in.
All the lights were off in Colt’s house. It wasn’t anything fancy. An old farmhouse, two stories, unlike hers. The yellow paint was bright, the trim white. It always had that freshly painted look. The porch had rotted out a few years back and Colt had replaced it. He’d gone overboard and wrapped it around, extending it. He’d stained everything and it looked beautiful, the fresh cedar gleaming in the light of her headlights.
She killed the engine and got out. Her hand hesitated on the door handle for just a second before she shut the door quietly and walked up the five porch steps to the front door. She knew it wouldn’t be locked. People didn’t lock doors at night around here, but even if Colt wanted to, he wouldn’t have.
Asha turned the door handle and slipped into the house. It was quiet. Colt was sleeping, like a normal person should be.
She walked through the living room and down the hall, to the kitchen, to pour herself a glass of water. Maybe if she just sat at the kitchen table and honestly thought about what she was doing here, she wouldn’t go upstairs and wake Colt, demand another piece of his heart that she had no right to ask for.
A few days’ worth of dishes were stacked up in the apron front porcelain sink. The kitchen was old school, so old it was back in style with the large white sink, copper taps and butcher block counter tops. The floor was that hideous linoleum with flowers on it. It was faded and worn but matched the yellow wall paper and the white lace curtains in the window above the sink. The whole thing was feminine, from another lifetime, but Colt never talked about changing it. Just like Asha never talked about renovating her place. She wanted the house to remain the way it was, stuck in time. She was afraid she’d banish what few memories she had left if she made everything brand new.
Asha rolled up her sleeves. Domesticity never was Colt’s strong point. She cleared the dishes out of the sink, piling them onto the counter beside it. She set out the drain board on the other side, added dish soap and got to work.
She knew the exact moment Colt came up behind her. She heard his footsteps tracing a light pattern down the hall a second before she saw his reflection in the window she was staring at as her hands mechanically processed dishes from the sink onto the drain board.
He’d thrown on a pair of jeans, dirty and stained with oil and grime. His chest was naked and glowed bronze under the kitchen light. For a man who was in his mid-thirties, he cut an impressive figure. The days of hard physical labour that he always said kept him sane had given him hard, streamlined muscle. He was naturally a large man, well over six feet, with impossibly broad shoulders, defined abs and a narrow waist, long, muscular legs. His dark brown eyes, bronzed skin, jet black hair and beard peppered with grey, a nose that had been broke once in a fight, a strong brow and a square jawline, gave him an air of mystery. It also made him one hell of a handsome man. He could have had any woman he wanted, but for some reason, it was always Asha.
One hand slipped to her waist, rested gently there. He leaned in but was careful not to touch her. “Who is the stranger to you really?” He asked huskily.
“No one. He’s here for the website. It was my sister’s idea.” Asha scrubbed a plate and moved it to the drain board.
“I see the way he looks at you.”
“Lots of men look at me. It never bothered you before.” Or does it? God, of course it does.
“You had him over, at your house. For dinner. Twice.”
“He didn’t have any groceries. He’s doing the work for me for quarter of what he normally charges. His work isn’t cheap. I promised my si
ster I would be a good host.”
She turned into Colt, wrapped her soapy hands around his neck. Beads of water dripped down his shoulders. She looked up and lost herself a little in those dark eyes.
“You’ve never invited me for dinner.”
“Are you jealous?” She tried to smile, to make light of it, but the stabbing pain in her chest, the hard wash of guilt, made the words harder to utter than she’d intended.
“What if I was? All I want to know is who you need, Asha.”
She tipped her head, parted her lips. Colt’s lips, a little on the thin side but utterly strong, masculine, wickedly talented, parted as well. “No one,” she whispered breathlessly.
“You’re a liar. And not a good one.”
“I don’t need you Colt, I want you. There is a difference.”
“Not tonight. Not on any night you come. On those nights, it’s the same.”
Asha shook her head. She should play fair. Treat him fair. This man who treasured her, who touched her with such reverence, who cared for her, worked her land, who refused to go off into the world and leave her behind. “You should find someone, Colt. Someone who deserves you.”
“The trouble with that,” Colt sighed, “Is that I don’t want anyone else.”
He dipped his head, his lips claiming hers. His lips were chapped from hours in the sun, but they were warm and alive on hers. The air rushed out of her lungs, became a part of his. She responded, hungry, glowing, vital, alive like she had been in her dream. His mouth was familiar, warm, safe. She knew Colt’s body like she knew her own. If he knew how to light her up, she too, knew how to please him. There were none of the fluttery butterflies she felt in her dream, not the rush of sensation or the aching of her heart. She responded as a woman would, physically, sensually melting against Colt, her body raw with need, teasing, tempting, melding with the warm, bronzed ridges of his body.
“I dreamt about you,” Asha said raggedly as she pulled away.
Colt’s eyes lit up and the look on his face, the hopefulness, broke her heart. Colt wasn’t a man who used words. He was old school, didn’t really believe in talking, certainly not about feelings. However, she’d known him long enough that she’d learned to read his body language. He couldn’t guard against his reactions nearly as well as he guarded his words.
“We were in a forest. We were riding horses, then we came to a clearing. It was all mossy and quiet and beautiful. You took me down and you laid me on the ground and you…” Asha couldn’t quite bring herself to finish but Colt got the picture.
“And what did that feel like?” His voice was raw.
“It felt… like… pleasure beyond words.”
Colt sighed. His hand slid between them, the callouses on his palm and finger chafing against her tank top, until he found her breast and massaged it gently. His fingers caressed her nipple through the thin cotton of her shirt, sending jolts of pleasure racing through her body. She whimpered, low in her throat and arched against him.
“I know just how to make you come alive,” he whispered in her ear. It was so strange, so raw, so unexpectedly just what she was thinking that Asha started. Colt never talked to her like this.
“Then make me,” she begged, her voice that of a stranger, deeper, far more seductive. “Make me come alive.”
CHAPTER 11
Colton
It was the same every time Colt touched Asha. Breathed in the heady scent of her natural, womanly musk. Even stood in the same room as her or stepped foot on her farm yard. She’d asked him to make her come alive. That’s what it feels like. Waking up. Nerve endings long forgotten prickled with awareness.
He reached up and traced a finger over Asha’s cheek, across her jaw, over her perfect lips, so very soft and warm. Her mouth parted and her tongue snaked out, moistening her lips and licking the tip of his finger. Her sharp inhale of breath was echoed by his.
She sucked his finger into her mouth, rolled it over her tongue, wet it and stroked it until Colt wondered if it might be possible just to come from the incredible sensation of her glorious mouth.
The fire spreading inside of him and when he removed his finger and lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss was sensual and slow despite the need that burned bright between them.
She always said she didn’t love him. Didn’t need him. But this. This tells me that she does.
Colt groaned deep in his throat. The sound was trapped by her mouth. She swallowed it as her tongue caressed his. His hands gripped her waist and before he fully knew what he was doing, he backed her against the counter with his strength. His cock, so hard that it pulsed, pressed up against the soft, flat plane of her belly. That thin camisole she had on left nothing to the imagination. Her nipples stood out, hard little peaks breaking through the fabric, begging to be licked and suckled.
He lifted her easily, deftly, onto the counter. She whimpered, their mouths still locked in a furious dance of passion. He hiked her skirt up and she spread her long, shapely legs. Her bare feet wrapped around his jean clad hips, pulling him closer, into her. He ran his hand up the delicate column of her thigh, the skin soft, like porcelain and the heat in his blood turned into a slow boil.
All of her is porcelain. So delicate. I could break her if I wanted to. But he didn’t want to break her. No, he wanted to put her back together.
Make me come alive. He could do that. He craved her. Day and night. Longed for her. For everything she could give and everything she couldn’t.
Colt dropped to his knees in between Asha’s glorious legs. His lips met her skin, as hot and fevered as he felt. He kissed her slowly, licked his way up past her knee, to the delicate skin of her thigh. He licked her, kissed her again, before he bit. She gasped at the nip, her hands tangling in hair that he’d been meaning to cut for over a month. She gripped hard, pulling his face into her, a silent demand for more.
His hand pushed her skirt up higher, higher. His mouth reached the apex of her thighs and breathed in, inhaling the womanly musk of her arousal. His body ached, his cock growing even harder in response to how badly she wanted him. As badly as I need her. They were equals, when she ventured to his house like this. Equals in their desire.
He scraped his teeth over her tender flesh and Asha whimpered. Her pelvis thrust forward, swivelling hard against the counter. Her fingers dug painfully into his scalp as she guided him in.
His first taste of her, as always, was pure heaven. It was like entering another realm. She was slippery and wet. The taste of her awakened the more animalistic part of himself. Hot, hard, primal male lust ripped through his veins. His cock drilled against the zipper of his jeans, since he hadn’t thrown on underwear when he’d heard her in the kitchen below. His balls pulled tight, so tight he thought they might actually explode.
Colt lost control. He gave himself over to her, licking, caressing, exploring, touching her, playing over her folds so very gently with his tongue and his fingers. Her excited gasps and moans drove him on. His tongue played over her entrance before he circled agonizingly and very slowly back up to her clit. He suckled the little bud, applying just the slightest amount of pressure.
Asha grew wetter, slippery. Her thighs spread further apart as her hips rocked into his face. Just when he felt she was on the brink, her swollen flesh lighting up under his mouth, he pulled away. He opened his eyes and raised his head and looked at Asha’s beautiful face. She was incredible like this, in the throes of passion.
Her lips were kiss swollen and parted to allow her sharp, little pants of breath and wild moans of pleasure to escape. Her head was thrown back, her hair spilling onto the counter. It was a good thing he was pretty much a minimalist and didn’t believe in keeping a bunch of shit all over his kitchen. It would have gone crashing to the floor long ago in their hurried frenzy.
He’d never taken her like this. Never in his kitchen. God, I want to. I want to take her like this, on the counter. On the table. Somewhere new and unexplored. Excitement surged through his body.
Asha opened her eyes and the pupils were so large they almost swallowed the irises completely. She didn’t have to say anything. He knew what she wanted. Needed.
His eyes swept down, past the ridges of her nipples piercing through her camisole to her skirt rucked around her hips and her spread legs. She was swollen and so ripe and ready.
“Take me, Colt,” she whispered huskily. Her voice was so thick and heady it was almost unrecognizable. She reached down, gripped the hem of her camisole and slowly pulled it over her head. “Take me like this. Right here. Now. I want you.”
“Do you need me though?” He didn’t know where such a desperately stupid question came from. His cock was so damn hard. He needed to unleash it, burry it deep inside her tight, slick heat.
“No,” Asha whispered. “I want you. I said there was a difference. Remember?”
“There isn’t any difference. Not right now. Just admit that you need me. Just for this moment even.” Why am I doing this? Begging her to feel something she doesn’t? Except Colt wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t feel it. How could she come, night after night, for over three years and feel nothing? Surely he meant something…
Asha made a strangled noise, low in her throat, the sound so pain and passion filled it hung heavy in the air between them. “Alright,” she finally admitted in a harsh whisper. “I need you. Right in this moment, I need you. I need you inside of me, filling me, moving in me. Fucking me.”
Red hot need ripped through him at her words. She never spoke like that. More often than not their interludes were silent. Time had done little to diminish the desire between them but it had softened the need to talk. He was no good with words and she preferred not to use them.
“Is that enough?” Asha whispered. Her passion hazed eyes turned to his face once more.
“Yes,” Colt ground out. It will have to be. His hands fumbled with the button on his jeans then he shed them and kicked them aside.