He smiles. “You want a drink?”
He’s intoxicating enough as it is. If I get any liquor in me, who knows what I’d do? I pause, turning to face him. “I didn’t know you were rich. You so don’t give off that vibe.”
“How so?”
“Look at your jeans.”
“Suits are for penguins, baby, and that’s not really my thing.” He laughs. “Jokes aside, my parents are the rich ones. I was just the kid showered with stuff to make up for the lack of parenting. Honestly, money means nothing at the end of the day. Things are just things; stuff’s just stuff. I don’t care about any of it.”
“So that’s why you were studying architecture?”
“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what they wanted me to do. But then I thought, hold on a second … I wanted Dad to spend time with me as a kid, but he never did, so why should I have to do what they want now that I’m an adult?”
“So you quit?”
“Yeah, I dropped out three months from graduating. And it really killed them—but architecture never made me happy. I saw how unhappy they were, and I knew more than anything that I didn’t want to end up like them.” He smiles, his steel grey eyes running down and over my body. “Anyway, enough about that. Tell me about you.”
“What do you know so far?”
The edge of his lip lifts. “Answering a question with a question. Nice play.”
“Well?” I giggle.
“Let me see … I don’t think you’ve missed a lecture in your life; your sidekick is a loud-mouthed hooligan; and you must have inhuman strength, ‘cause I’ve got no idea how you lug that giant whale around campus all day long.”
“Cello.” I glare, but he’s so right. It’s such whale. Anytime I fly anywhere, I have to buy a seat for it. Talk about high maintenance. Why don’t I play the flute like FiFi? Oh, that’s right—‘cause apparently my lips aren’t as talented as hers. Slut.
I take a few steps back, sinking down into the L-shaped white leather couch. “Oh my god, this thing is like a cloud!” I squeal. “It’s sooo comfortable.”
“Now that you’re settled, Miss Hemsworth,” he smiles, his eyes locking with mine, “how about you tell me something that no one else knows.”
“What about?”
“You, baby girl,” he laughs. “Tell me about you.”
“You like interrogating people, don’t you?”
“You intrigue me. What can I say?”
“I got a tattoo yesterday afternoon, and it hurt like hell.”
His eyes widen. “Really? I wouldn’t have picked you for being that sort of girl.”
“Exactly!” I smile. “That’s why I got it.”
“How big is it?”
Why does that matter? I cross my arms, knowing he’s gonna make me look like a total sook. I swivel around on my butt, pulling my hair off my shoulder, and push down the material of my pale blue sweater.
“A feather? You got a single feather?” He chuckles. “It’s teeny, Ra.”
“It frickin’ hurt, though.” I pout. “I thought I was gonna punch the guy in the stomach when he first started.”
“So that was your first one?”
“First and last.” I cringe. “But I love it.”
“Meaning?”
“Life’s precious. You never know when something you thought was real can float away, but in the end, you’ve got to trust whatever happens will be for the best. Even if, at the time, it doesn’t feel like it.”
He nods. “Wise words. Sounds like you’re talking from experience. Is that why you transferred here?”
I chew on the edge of my nail. I want to tell him. But it’s too soon to start banging on about my past lovers. Who am I kidding? Lover. Singular. One. Guy. I’ve. Slept. With.
“What about you? Have you got any tattoos?”
His eyes crinkle into happiness. “Nice decoy; I’m impressed. And yeah, actually, I do.”
“Can I see?”
“That depends.” He smiles, running his hand over his chiseled jaw, a sheepish looking sweeping across his face.
“On what?”
“Whether you think it’s appropriate that the first time I take you back to my place, I take off my top.”
I swear, someone just turned off the air conditioning, ‘cause I’m a hot, sticky mess the moment he says those words. He looks at me, and his smile is so pristine he looks like a model in some toothpaste commercial. His long, tanned fingers are lingering on the bottom of his t-shirt, teasing me like the night before Christmas, and I’m dying to see what’s under his wrapper.
“Your face is turning that awesome color again, which makes me think that you wouldn’t mind a peak.” He sniggers, turning his back on me and gazing out the ginormous glass panes. “Am I right?”
Shit. Am I that obvious? Is there a pill you can take to keep from blushing? ‘Cause I’d gladly order one hundred bottles without a second thought. “I’m just hot,” I stammer. “I’m not hot for you.”
He turns to face me, and I know he knows I’m lying. The whole of New York does. I’m so hot for him. So freaking hot it’s embarrassing. “Well, then, Miss Hemsworth, I might as well just take my shirt off, as clearly, it’s not going to make any difference to you either way.”
And now he is. Slowly, inch-by-inch, he’s pulling it off. And fudge. Oh gosh. His body is— I mean, he must work out like a demon. Why does he even bother wearing a top? What’s the point in that? He’s a chiseled god of perfection. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’m taking so many photos of his chest in my mind that I can’t develop them quick enough. I swallow hard, digging my nails into my palms in a desperate attempt to stop myself from pouncing on him and pulling him down on top of me.
“So where is it, then?” I whisper. “I don’t see one drop of ink on you.” Then he turns, and intricately carved across and down his back is a tattoo so large it covers pretty much all of his back. “Ashhh” I whisper, chomping down on my lip. “It’s amazing. But what is it?”
“Fear.”
“But it looks like some sort of a scary demon.”
“Exactly. And if we let it, it will possess us and destroy our lives. So no matter how strong the fears each of us have, we owe it to ourselves to fight them.”
Beep. Beep.
Mel: Where are ya? Bodhi said he thought he saw you leaving on the back of Climber’s motorbike. I told him it can’t be true.
Me: Well, it is.
Mel: Shit, I owe him five bucks. Whatcha doing?
Me: You don’t want to know ;)
Mel: Trust me, girl. I do.
Me: I’m at his place, and the view is sooo good!
Mel: Shut up.
Me: Well, you better.
Mel: Are you wearing the scraps of expensive lace you bought?
Me: Yup!! Black, lacey, and matching.
Mel: Have you?
Me: What?
Mel: Don’t play dumb with me. You know…
Me: Not yet.
Mel: Please be careful. I know he’s a lot older than you. Just make sure you use protection, okay?
Me: He’s not that much older than me. I mean, it’s not like he’s in his fifties! And I’m not a little girl anymore, remember? You were the one who told me that.
Ash coughs, his grey eyes drinking me in like a cool beer on a hot summer day. “Who’s that, baby? Your lover?”
I stand up, leaving my phone on the couch along with my past. “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t have one.”
He wraps his arms around me, and I melt into him. “Well … luckily, beautiful,” he murmurs, “things can change in an instant.”
“They can?” I smile, millimeters away from his lips. “How?”
“Let me show you …” he whispers as he drops his head and softly kisses my neck. I moan, almost falling into him, as the touch of his lips on my skin make me crave more. He breathes in, pushing my hair from my neck as I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer.
“Ashhh,” I si
gh as his fingers tangle in my long hair.
“Mmm?” He smiles, his grey eyes piercing through my soul.
“I can’t wait any longer.”
“Neither can I,” he whispers as his lips crash down onto mine.
TWELVE
I didn’t realize how much I wanted Ash until he kissed me. One touch of his soft lips against mine sends my mind into a tailspin. It almost feels like I’ve been a puppet all this time with Hugo pulling at my strings, day by day, year after year. Go there, do this, say that. And I always did without hesitation. But there’s no strings with Ash. It’s just him and me. No parachute, no ropes, nothing but each other. All my nerves are tingling. They feel so sensitive. It’s almost like my skin has been ripped away from my flesh. But it feels so good. Better than good. I feel alive entangled in his arms. And I don’t ever want this moment to end.
Beep. Beep.
That must be my panties, about to explode. He’s definitely activated them.
I moan softly into his mouth, delighting in the way his hands are exploring my curves. He makes me feel like a china doll, I’m so little against him. He could crush me so easily, but his touch tells me he never would.
Beep. Beep.
I can’t help but giggle. Guess it’s not my panties after all. Stupid phone.
He releases me from the kiss, softly brushing my cheekbone with his hand. “Do you wanna get that, beautiful?”
I gasp for air, trying to remember how to speak. But finding words after a kiss like that is impossible. How can I act casual and aloof, when just the sight of him makes my heart pound so fast I feel like it’s about to stop? I can’t speak, and I’m frozen to the spot. Silent, before the hunk of my dreams. All I can give him is a smile. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop smiling, because there’s just something about him that fills my body with a rush of sublime happiness.
“If it wasn’t for that phone,” he exhales, “I don’t think I would’ve been able to contain my thirst for you much longer.”
“You’re just saying that,” I giggle, running my nails down and over his abs.
“No,” he growls, “you’d be completely naked by now if it wasn’t for that phone.”
“Why?” I groan, throwing my arms in the air. “Why, God, why?”
His deep, rich laughter bounces around the pristine white walls. “What did that smile mean before, though, Ra? ‘Cause I’ve never been able to read women, and I promise you, any guy who says he can is lying out of his ass.”
I smirk. “Wow, what happened to bros before hoes, though? How could you do that to the code?”
The edge of his lip quirks as his sparkling eyes wander across my body. “You all know we’re lying, so I might as well just confess it. Honestly, Ra, when it comes to women, you’re harder to read than the markets! You’re up, you’re down, you’re going sideways … We don’t know what’s happening.”
“Neither do we,” I laugh, uncurling my fingers from around the back of his neck, “And no, I don’t care about the stupid phone,” I grumble. Cupid so just shot me with his arrow, and if it weren’t for my phone wrecking the moment, I would have blown the little winged devil a kiss.
“Well, then would you like a tour of the place?” Ash grins at me sheepishly.
“Yes, please.” I giggle, fluttering my eyelashes at him. I could just about kick myself. Laura! That is so not aloof. But if you’re going for immature high school crush, you just hit a home run. I stall, hoping my question will cool down my panties. “Just one question first...”
“Deal.” He laughs, running his hand down and over the curve of my buttocks.
“Stop.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m trying to cool down, you’re making me very ...”
“Wet?”
“Ash!” I squeal. “Don’t.”
“You are though, aren’t you, beautiful?”
“Yes, very,” I whisper. “I’m so attracted to you it’s stupid.”
“Trust me.” He smiles. “The feeling goes both ways. I’ve had a very hard time trying to conceal just how much I want you. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were something very special.”
“What?” I giggle. “Even when I was yelling at you on the street?”
He nods. “Even more so. Now, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”
“Exactly how old are you, Mr. Ashton? Since I’ve been warned about you, I thought I better get the facts.”
“Thirty-one.”
“Thirty-one?” I gasp. “I thought you were in your late twenties.”
“Do you need to get your eyes checked?”
I giggle. “No, that’s what the cop said.”
“I’ll have to thank him next time we have a run-in. Who was it—Patrick?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m not on a first-name basis like you obviously are.”
“That mouth of yours,” he whispers, “is begging to be attended to.”
I chew on the edge of my lip, breathing in his scent. Kiss me, Ash. Attend to me, please. How much longer is he going to tease me? How much longer is he going to make me wait? I look away from his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe.
“So, um, anyway,” I mumble, “what are you still doing at college? Shouldn’t you have a job or something by now? A family? Kids?”
“Do I look like the family type to you? Honestly?”
“No,” I exhale, my eyes drifting across his lavish, un-child-proofed apartment. “I guess not.”
“I’m just taking music classes because I enjoy them.”
“Wow, you’re probably the first guy to ever admit that.”
He shrugs. “There’s nothing soft about a guy liking classical music. I guess you could say it calms me. I’m not taking the classes to get a degree ‘cause I don’t need one. I’ve got a job.”
“Doing what? Please tell me you don’t climb for a living.”
He smiles. “Nah, I only do that for fun.”
“So what then?”
“I work for myself.”
“But what does that mean? Why do you have to be so mysterious all the time? Geez, you’re not Spiderman are you?”
“No, I don’t think I’d fit the tights,” he laughs. “But if I had to define it, I guess you could say I’m a professional risk-taker.”
I must look baffled ‘cause I am. “Huh?”
“I’m a forex trader.”
“I thought you didn’t care about money.”
“I don’t.”
“But you buy and sell it for a living, so that makes no sense at all. If you didn’t care about it, wouldn’t you be out rescuing whales or something?”
“Fair call. The thing is, though, money gives you time. You can’t have time if you don’t have money.”
“What? That’s so not true. Even you said so yourself with your dad.”
“How so?”
“Well, he was out there working—making money—and wasn’t at home for the things that really mattered. You can either have money, or time, but you can’t have both.”
“Sure, if you wanna make it the traditional way. But what I do only takes a few hours a day, if that. I don’t even have to leave home if I don’t want to. All I need is an Internet connection and a few screens.”
“Sounds to good to be true.”
“I’m not the only one who lives like this. There are many of us dotted around the world. And as long as you don’t let the greed set in, most of the time, we come out on top with money and time to burn.”
“What do you do when you’re not working?”
“You already know. When I’m not trading, I’m swinging from buildings. The higher the better.”
“Urgh,” I groan. “Please tell me you don’t swing from buildings. Seriously, it gives me the jitters. I mean, why do you like risking stuff so much? With one slip, you could lose it all.”
“Exactly.” He smiles. “That’s why I do it. Because with one slip, I could lose it all. But with self-control—mental and physical—I can c
hange it all. My entire world is up to me and how I want to create it. The mind is our greatest asset and our worst enemy.”
If he was any deeper, I’d be able to swim in the ocean of his heart. “You’re a giant puzzle, that’s what you are,” I whisper in his ear.
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