Sorrow whipped through Willow.
A dark, battering storm that rained hope.
“Do you remember Summer’s, Mama? She said she wanted to be free. She’s free now. You don’t have to be sad.”
But it was sadness that glistened in Willow’s eyes as this selfless girl poured all her love into her mother. Giving and giving and giving.
I wanted to stand up. Stand behind her. Press my hands to her shoulder like some kind of silent advocate. Give something back. But how the fuck was that my place? It wouldn’t ever be.
Attachments always felt good in the beginning. That feeling you got that you might just belong. Fit. Until you figured out all the wrong pieces were trying to come together and they started working at odds. Just vicious teeth in a cog snapping at the other.
Yet, here I was.
Following her here like a fool. Acting like I was some kind of goddamned knight in shining armor when I knew with all of me I was nothing but the dragon.
The destroyer.
She sat there, living up to her name. A strong, stoic willow. Graceful and elegant while she waded through the turmoil.
Her mother’s smile widened a fraction, her scratchy voice laden with affection. “Sweet one.”
A tear streaked free from the corner of Willow’s eye, and she swatted it away with her free hand. “You make me feel that way, Mama.”
“Sweet one…still chasing yours.”
Willow blinked like she was trying to gather herself, keep it together. Finally, she glanced at me, almost pleading, before she looked back to her mother. “I want you to meet someone, Mama…someone who’s really important to me. He’s the one I was telling you about. The one who saved the store.”
Anxiety raced through my nerves, and I swallowed hard when I decided to suck it up and edge forward instead of standing in the corner like a pussy.
I moved behind Willow, right to that spot where I’d wanted to stand.
Like her supporter.
Her advocate.
Like someone who might love her the way she deserved.
I set my hands on her shoulders, squeezed, while my heart beat like a hollow drum. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Langston.”
Her mother’s attention flicked to me.
Aware.
Lucid.
Pleading.
Good. God.
I needed to get up and go. Get out of this mess. Could feel myself sinking in, getting deeper and deeper and deeper. Could feel the weight pressing in around me. Responsibility I knew nothing other than driving right into the ground.
Instead, I moved to the other side of the bed, pulled up a chair. Because for a minute I just wanted to take this burden off of Willow. Do some of the comforting Willow always gave.
I leaned forward while I felt something inside crack, this place open up just as I opened my mouth and began to sing before I could stop myself, my voice so damned rough and low.
Lay me down
Say your peace
Come what may
But you can’t hide
The pain behind your eyes
The room spun around me, the walls too tight, but I couldn’t keep the words from coming.
So stay with me
I don’t mind
Find your comfort
Right here by my side
I’ve seen it all before
Want to take it away
So stay with me
I don’t mind
Find your comfort
Right here by my side
The song broke off, and I stared down at her mother who’d drifted to sleep.
Everything itched, my skin and my throat that raced with that sickly feeling.
Finally I looked up. Pinned to my chair by that potent stare, her mouth slack and her eyes bleary as that awareness spun.
Familiarity and need and every damned thing I couldn’t have.
Fear bubbled up from that spot that was supposed to be forgotten. Under lock and key.
Screams.
Blood.
Loss.
I gasped over the flashes. I flew to my feet. Willow jumped at the sudden, jarring movement.
I needed air. Breath. Sanity.
I could feel each of them being sheared away.
I couldn’t even look at her when I said, “I’ll be outside.”
I hurtled down the hall. This house that was decorated to exude solace and peace reeked of death. I needed to escape it. I flew out the front door and into the light, searching for breath.
I paced and questioned.
You can’t do this.
You can’t do this.
Not again.
All the while, some part of me screamed it wasn’t close to being the same. It was the foolish part of me just begging for trouble. The kind I didn’t have the strength to fight my way out of.
I felt like such a prick when Willow finally stumbled out five minutes later. She wrung her hands, trying to look into me the way she did. Deeper than I wanted. “I’m sorry I brought you here. That it was too much.”
And there she was. Apologizing when it was me.
Always fucking me.
Still, I couldn’t say a thing when I turned and started across the street to where I’d parked. I ignored the single fucking pap hiding out behind a bush, one of those creepy, stalker kinds who’d been trailing us for days, waiting to snag a little dirt.
No doubt I was kicking plenty of it up as I tore across the lot.
Willow climbed into the passenger seat, the silence dense and dark as I drove her home.
I could feel her hesitation when I pulled to her curb, the things she wanted to say that I couldn’t afford to hear.
So I left her there like a total prick with little more than a mumbled, “See you later.”
Because I couldn’t stay in her space for a second longer. Couldn’t get myself any deeper. Not when this girl kept pulling me closer with the promise of all the good I could never have.
Without looking back, I gunned my Navigator and did my damnedest to ignore the way my insides trembled like a bitch the whole ride home.
twenty-five
Willow
I watched him drive away, feeling as if he were breaking off some piece of me as he went.
I knew better. But knowing better never helped anything when it already was done.
They say the danger in pretending is it becoming real.
And this afternoon it’d become far too real. Too close and too hard and too good.
For the both of us.
It was obvious the second he sat forward and did more of that pretending with my mama.
This terrifying, intimidating man who was so wickedly kind. I’d saw him sitting there, desperate for a way to take away some of the constant fear, anxiety, and confusion that haunted what was left of my mama’s troubled life.
But offering her that tiny semblance of peace had somehow stolen his.
I saw it.
In the twitching in his muscles and held in his rigid jaw as we’d driven the short distance in silence. Then, he’d just left me at my house rather than taking me to his, where I’d left my car. It was as if he couldn’t handle being in my presence for a second more and he was looking for the fastest route of escape.
He’d been riddled with his own questions he couldn’t answer. So, he’d pushed me away, and Ash pushing me away right now was the one thing in this messed up world I wasn’t sure I could handle.
Instead of heading inside, I rounded to the back to my little shop where I sometimes worked at night when I couldn’t sleep, where the feel of the wood would soothe and relieve.
Quiet my racing soul.
This evening it wanted to scream and shout and plea.
In the far distance, thunder rolled, deep and melodic, the Savannah summer still thick with the waning day. The smell of rain held fast to the air, stirred by the short gusts of wind that whipped at the trees.
Wrenching open the lock on th
e double sliding doors, I pushed them aside and flipped on the little swinging light above my work bench. Unfinished pieces were stacked against the walls and littered the dusty floor, tools scattered wide. The place was an utter mess, but somehow, it provided me with the greatest peace.
I pulled my stool in front of the vintage apothecary cabinet I’d been working on for years. The one my sister had started with me on one of her whims and never had finished. One I’d never had the heart to finish myself.
I squeezed my eyes closed and began to sand. Slowly. Methodically.
It was like welcoming an old friend and the loneliness at the same time. Prying open old wounds and covering them with balm.
I got lost in it, and at some point, the day faded away and twilight took hold. The storm grew and gathered strength. A few fat droplets tapped at the roof, steadily increasing until rain began its free-fall to the earth. The intensifying rumbles approaching in the distance only added to the peace.
A shiver of awareness prickled across my skin.
With him, it was always the same.
Turmoil and mayhem.
Chaotic comfort.
Disordered relief.
Guarded, I slowly turned, fearful there would be nothing left of me if I did.
My breath hitched in my throat, and my rebellious heart thrummed a wayward beat.
He stood at the opening of the sliding doors, rain pouring down around him, his hulking arms stretched out on either side of him and clinging to the doors. His big body was drenched, clothes clinging to every inch.
He stayed that way, fighting for air.
Finally, he lifted his face an inch and stared at me from beneath the shadows of his strong brow.
Staggered.
This man…
He staggered me.
That terrifying beauty I’d witnessed that first day was there, potent blue eyes ablaze.
The conquering warrior.
His expression was fierce. Carved in stone. Chiseled with the same doubts and uncertainties he’d left me with this afternoon. As if the man had built up his own walls. Barriers of protection.
I felt the desperate need to know why they were there. To get over them and beneath them and within them. To know this man the way every part of me ached to know him.
Wholly.
“Ash.” My own confused whisper.
Rain ran in rivulets down his cheeks and through his beard, droplets clinging to his full, full lips.
A gust of wind whipped through, stirring the rain. Shivers raced across my flesh and it was desire that soaked me through.
I watched the thick bob of his throat as he swallowed. “What have you done to me?” He stared across at me, tone demanding. “Tell me, Willow. Tell me you want me. Tell me I’m not goin’ crazy. Tell me this isn’t all just on me. Tell me that every time I touch you, it feels like something more.”
A wheeze pushed from between my lips, my breaths coming harder and faster. I swiveled fully on the stool and slowly climbed to my trembling legs.
My heart stampeded a path out in front of me and cut down all the obstacles in my path. Plowing through them as if they meant nothing. As if they posed no harm.
Is the lamb innocent if it knows it’s being led to the slaughter?
A willing volunteer?
Because here I was, signing up for the position.
I lifted my chin. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”
Whatever thread of control had been holding him back snapped.
He erased the space between us in the flash of a second, hands fisting in my hair at the same second his mouth slanted over mine.
Possessive.
Powerful.
His wet lips demanded as they nipped and sucked, pushed and gave. He tugged at my hair, angled my head, controlling our movements.
“Peaches.” He mumbled it as he edged back for a frantic breath before he dove back in. Deeper this time, seeking a way inside.
He slid one hand down my spine and twisted the other hand up tighter in my hair. His fingers sank into the flesh of my bottom, and he yanked me against him. Against his wet clothes and the heat that burned from beneath, his cock so hard and big where it pressed against his jeans, begging for friction against my belly, my body begging for it in return.
I gasped, and my fingers latched on to his shoulders. “Ash. Please.”
He spun us, knocked me back into the piece I’d been working on. I hit it with a grunt, his or mine, I couldn’t tell. We were a frenzied tangle of moans and hands and desperate bodies.
Tools tumbled and metal clattered and the storm gained intensity. Wind ripped at the thin walls, rain pelted the roof, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care the doors were still open. The only thing I registered was this.
His hands gripped me by the waist, and he set me on the top of the cabinet. My legs locked around his waist.
Instinct.
It was there from the moment he first touched me, though I’d grown bolder in it, demanding what he gave and giving it in return.
I kissed him hard, and he kissed me harder.
Wild.
Raging.
“What have you done? What have you done?” he rumbled as he rocked his length against me. Warmth spread like a flood. Lust and greed and the tight emotion that welled up to take hold of my chest.
I angled back from the force of his attack, his hand holding my head to keep me upright, the other palming my breast. My nipple hardened, and his hands were gone, mine braced on the edge to hold me up as he ripped the buttons of my shirt.
I whimpered as he exposed me, my chest heaving with every lust-filled pant.
“Fuck.” It scraped from his throat, the word just as raw as the hunger in his gaze when he stared down at me. He rushed to get my shirt free of my arms, and his hands were back to my lace-covered breasts. He pressed them together, his hot, hot mouth closing over one.
Fire rocketed to my core. Streaked through my nerves. Flying fast. Lighting me up. Everywhere. Every inch. That heated spot ached a needy, empty throb.
“Ash.” His name was a gasp. A plea. Everything. Because I could feel myself falling beneath the demand of his touch. Sinking into the sacred space where lives were either made or forever shattered.
“I know, baby, I know.” He slipped a hand around my back, flicked free my bra, and dragged the straps down my arms.
He leaned back, his eyes wild when he dropped the fabric to the floor. “God…you are a masterpiece, darlin’. So fucking gorgeous I don’t know how to make sense of you sitting there. The things I want to do to you.”
Goose bumps lifted at his words. Dark, dark promises.
“Tell me,” I murmured, my head rocking back on a gasp when he pinched a nipple between his fingers and took the other between his teeth.
Pretending.
I knew better because I knew I was only fooling myself, but right then I was just the fool who was happy to be deceived.
He laved and lapped, his tongue working its magic as it wound me tight. He licked between the valley of my breasts, taking a sharp turn north, delving into the hollow of my neck.
I whimpered, and his voice drew near, a shower of a breath at my ear. “I want to own you, Peaches. I want to awaken what’s been lying dormant. Bring it to life. Watch you glow.”
He kissed at my jaw, at my chin, a hungry lash at my mouth before making his way down the other side. His hands dug into my hips as he tucked me close and grunted the words, “I want to get so deep in you I won’t ever make it back. Make it to the place where neither of us knows where one starts and the other begins.”
He’d been singing me that same song like praise since the first night when he’d opened my eyes.
And I knew this boy would tear me to shreds.
Crucify and slay.
But this time I was coming as an offering.
I gripped tight to his hair before I was tearing at his drenched shirt, yanking it over his head and getting straig
ht to work on his fly.
“Take it.” It was an appeal.
He froze.
Jerked back to look at me.
“Take it.” I whispered the demand.
A puff of air shot from his nose.
A charge of lust and desire.
A crackle of intensity.
We lit.
This fury and passion and mania neither of us could seem to catch up to. He popped the button on my jeans and dragged them down my legs, taking my panties with them.
He pushed down his underwear, tossing them off as he was wedging his way between my thighs. His hands ran up and down the outside, trembling and trembling with his penis that was far too big nestled between us.
My mouth parted and desire spun.
Ash swore between his clenched teeth and pressed his thumb into my mouth. I sucked it the way he seemed to want me to, my tongue playing across the pad as I fisted him in my hand.
He shuddered, and his taut stomach flexed as I pumped him up and down, my mind a blurred whirl of colors and lights emitted by this man.
I needed him. So bad. And I was mumbling it aloud as his thumb brushed across my bottom lip. “I need you. Ash, I need you. Want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.” I scooted to the very edge of the cabinet, the man still in my hand. And somehow I was in control. Delirious. Mad with the need.
Or maybe it was him.
Because I was guiding him to my center, the head of him pushing into my folds.
And I didn’t care that I was crossing a line I swore I’d never cross. Giving myself to a man when he wasn’t really mine.
But that didn’t matter. Because I wanted to weep with the feel of him, barely there, so big that when he took me by the hips and surged forward, I screamed against the full intrusion, my rejection nothing but a soft cry, “Yes.”
Consumed.
Incinerated.
“Fuck…Peaches…you feel…you’re the best thing I’ve ever felt.”
He burned inside me. Too big. Too much. Not enough. Because I wanted more. For him to fill me up and take me and never let me go.
He started to rock, snapping his hips, slamming into me again and again. Each of his breaths came on a throaty grunt, the warrior in his eye as he stared me down.
He fucked me like he promised.
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