by Lilli Feisty
She could remember that.
After she’d tried on what seemed like every item in the store, Joy ended up with quite a large pile of keepers. As she held up her ancient flowery skirt and sweater, she was actually sad to think of putting them back on. They suddenly seemed old, frumpy.
Like something her grandmother would wear.
“Ruby?” she whispered, peering through the curtain. “Would it be horribly tacky for me to wear an outfit out of the store?
Ruby smiled. “No. What do you want to wear?”
Joy looked at the pile of keepers. “Is the green dress okay for daytime?”
“Definitely. Give it to me and I’ll have the saleslady remove the tag for you.”
Joy gave her the dress, then, on impulse, wrapped Ruby in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, Ruby. This has been really amazing. I could never have done it without you.”
Ruby smiled warmly. “Well, I was supposed to meet Mark for coffee, but I just sent him a text to reschedule because something more important came up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you from your appointments!” Joy said, embarrassed.
“Joy, you are the something more important that came up!”
“No, shopping isn’t more important than your boyfriend!”
“Maybe not in the long run, but right now we have more imperative matters to attend to.”
“We do?”
Ruby grinned wickedly. “Yup. Next stop, shoes!”
“But I just bought a pair!”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Girl Rule Number One: You can never, ever have enough shoes! And I know exactly where to take you!”
Joy thought of her already dwindling savings—she still had to buy back Ash’s sculpture. But she shrugged the worry aside. She’d deal with that when the time came. After all, wasn’t procrastination her middle name?
She stroked the shiny, smooth leather of the pumps she’d just taken off, then poked her head out of the dressing room. “Ruby?”
Her friend turned from the saleslady. “Yes?”
Joy grinned. “I’ll wear these out, too.”
Chapter Sixteen
Later that evening, Joy got lucky. There was a parking spot right in front of the building she and Ruby shared, which made unloading the multiple bags their shopping day had produced much easier. And then Ruby’s boyfriend, Mark St. Crow, appeared and refused to let the women unload the car at all. He had to make multiple trips up the stairs to Ruby’s apartment, but the guy didn’t seem to mind one bit. And when he was done, he gave Ruby a big, wet kiss at the top of the stairs.
Apparently Mark was some hotshot musician, but Joy was totally clueless about contemporary American music. All she knew was, she would love for a man to look at her like Mark looked at Ruby.
One day. Maybe one day.
She immediately thought of Ash, but instinct told her Ash wasn’t that man.
Was he?
When Ruby and Mark broke apart, Ruby smiled and took her hand. “That was so much fun. We have to do it again sometime.”
“Definitely. I need your help! I don’t think I’ll be able to shop alone now.”
“Sure you will. But anytime you need a shopping buddy, I’ll be here.”
“Yes, please,” Mark said. “That way I won’t have to go.”
After she’d said good-bye to the couple, Joy went inside her apartment and closed the door behind her. For some reason, all the shopping had made her restless and a bit energized, and now she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.
Digging through her purse, she pulled out her phone, knowing in her heart she wanted to see if Ash had called. But the battery on her phone was dead as usual, so she had to search for the charger—which she found in the bathroom this time—and plug it in.
Had he cheated on Ruby? Despite what everyone said about him, Ruby had a hard time believing Ash would be dishonest about anything.
Staring at the phone, her heart sank. No messages from Ash.
More agitated than ever, she went to her bedroom and shut the drapes. Making sure all the lights were turned low and the door was locked, she got undressed and prepared to do the one thing that was sure to keep her mind off Ash, off the stolen sculpture, off everything.
Pulling on a pair of leggings and a choli top that ended just under her bust, she tied a coin-edged hip scarf low on her belly. Then she put on her favorite belly-dance DVD and began to move.
Soon she lost herself in the mesmerizing music. Joy had no mirror to judge herself with. She just followed the video: snake arms and belly rolls, shimmies and hip circles. The whole thing made her feel sexy, female. The curves of her body tortured her during the rest of her existence, but not when she danced.
And, sometimes, not when she was with Ash.
As she went into a backbend, she was happy to see she could go deeper than ever before, and she smiled.
She wondered what Ash would think if he saw her like this. When she was dancing, she didn’t care if her belly didn’t look flat, and she didn’t care if she was exposing her naked midriff. Would Ash find her dancing sexy?
She would never find out, because no one would ever, ever see her dance, not in this lifetime. It was her own thing, her secret. She wished she had the confidence to dance in public, but that would happen when pigs flew over the moon. Just the thought made her throat feel tight with panic, and she pushed the thoughts far, far out of her mind and continued to dance.
She turned the volume up and played the next set of routines, the advanced level. She was excited to see she could easily keep up. A year ago she’d barely been able to get through the first set.
Over the beat of the drum, she heard a buzzing sound and realized someone was pressing her doorbell. Shit. Stopping to catch her breath, she paused the DVD, picked up a towel, and wiped the sweat off her forehead as she went to the intercom.
“Hello?”
“Joy. It’s Ash.”
“Fuck!”
“What?”
Nothing appropriate seemed to rhyme with fuck, so she just said, “Nothing. Hang on a minute.” She eyed her jingling outfit. “Fuck. What the hell is he doing here?”
“I can still hear you.”
She yanked her finger off the box like it had exploded. She so did not want Ash to see her like this, a sweaty mess in a half shirt and leggings. Her scarf coins chimed as she ran into her bedroom and yanked an old sweatshirt over her top, throwing the hip scarf to the floor where it landed with a loud clank.
What other evidence could give her away? Finally she calmed down enough to let Ash inside. Smoothing down her ponytail, she pushed the button to open the door.
Then he was there, all long, casual elegance as he entered her place. He eyed her messy appearance. “What were you doing?”
“Um, just finishing a workout. Yoga.”
“I thought I heard Middle Eastern music.”
Joy swallowed. “R-right. It’s a new type where you pose to the music of the yogis.”
“The music of the yogis?” he asked with a quirked brow.
She nodded. “So, what brings you here?”
“I came to drop something off at Ruby’s.”
“Oh?” Joy said, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, her new boyfriend asked me to make sure I didn’t have any photographs of her lying around. Turns out I did, so I brought them by.”
“I can’t imagine Mark was very happy to see you dropping off nude shots of his ex-girlfriend!”
“Probably not.” He shrugged. “Not my problem. So I was thinking you could have dinner with me. Tonight. Now.”
Joy stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because is it possible that I have other plans?”
“Do you?”
“That’s not the point. I’m getting kind of tired of you expecting me to be at your beck and call.”
He shifted and had the courtesy to actually look uncomfort
able. “I guess I wasn’t thinking… I just wanted to see you.”
“Oh, God. Why do you do that?”
He looked confused. “Do what?”
“Piss me off and then make me like you again.”
“Um, this is one of those questions women ask that has no right answer, isn’t it?”
With a toss of her hair, Joy stomped away. “Give me ten minutes.” Pausing, she looked over her shoulder. “I’m only going because I’m hungry, and I’d be eating anyway.”
“Fine,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Fine,” she said, her pulse hammering. And that was how Joy found herself on her first official date with Ash.
“What the hell?” As Joy opened her front door, the pounding beat of exotic music blasted through her apartment.
“Get back!” Ash pushed in front of her, scanning her house like a detective out of some kind of action flick.
But Joy knew exactly where the music was coming from and tried to beat him to her room.
He outran her, of course, his legs carrying him in long, quick strides. Now not only was the music louder as they approached her room, but also a voice started speaking: “Now we are going to practice the Hip Bump!”
By the time she caught up with him, he was standing in front of the television, his gaze frozen on the curvaceous woman jerking her hips from side to side in, not surprisingly, a hip-bump move.
Ash looked enthralled.
Joy was mortified.
She moved to turn off the television, which had obviously gone off its pause mode while they’d been drinking wine and eating tandoori chicken at the little Indian restaurant on the corner.
Ash stopped her. “Wait.”
She faked a laugh. “Wow, I have no idea how this got on here!”
He simply raised a brow and momentarily glanced at the hip scarf tossed on the floor and then once again faced the TV. “Uh-huh.”
The instructor kept bumping her hips, adding a few belly rolls for good measure, and the beat continued.
“Okay, that’s enough.” She moved out of his reach and turned off the DVD and the television. “Anyway, do you want some coffee? Tea?” A shot of tequila?
Turning, he crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow at her. “You do this?”
She lifted her chin. “No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
She bit her lip. “Er, not so much…”
Grinning, he sat on her unmade bed. “Show me.”
Her entire chest constricted with panic. “No!”
“Yes.”
Picking up the hip scarf, she shoved it into a random drawer. “No fucking way am I dancing for anyone—-including you!”
“Come on! It’s hot,” he said, giving her body a once-over.
“No means no. Not in a million years.”
“How long have you been doing these videos?”
Ignoring his question, she walked into the kitchen and promptly poured herself a shot of tequila. She couldn’t believe he’d found out about her belly dancing—even Erica didn’t know about that.
He followed her into the kitchen. “Can’t you just show me one little move?”
“No. Seriously, I’m not any good, and it would only embarrass me.”
He looked at her a second before shrugging. “I bet you’re good.”
“I’m not.” But she liked that he thought that. Let him fantasize about her dancing; it would be much better than the real thing.
He took a step closer, closing in on her, and she quickly downed her tequila with a shudder. Trailing a finger along her jawline, he said, “You have a way about you, Joy. You make everything sexy.”
His words sent little tremors through her; she could almost believe him. “I do not.”
“Even your apartment is part of your charm.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Look at it.”
She leaned to the side to glance around his body, which was blocking her view of anything but him. “I guess I haven’t cleaned up in a while….”
Which was the understatement of the year. Books were piled everywhere, stacks of unopened mail were scattered all around the kitchen and dining room, and spare blankets littered the sofa, in front of which was a coffee table stacked high with magazines and newspapers. She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how much she’d spent shopping. So receipts were crumpled in an old tea tin.
At least she’d done the dishes earlier.
“You’re a mess.”
“I take offense to that,” she exclaimed, even though she knew it was partly true. Still, she was getting sick of people saying it.
He smiled gently. “I like it. It’s who you are.”
She couldn’t help it; her heart melted a little bit. Her entire life people had been telling her she was a mess, and not in a good way. Now she had this man, this gorgeous, talented man, telling her it was okay. It’s who you are.
For so long she’d been fighting so many things about herself: her disorganization, her love of a career her entire family thought was frivolous, her body. But Ash seemed not to mind any of that.
In fact, he seemed to like it.
She yanked his head down to hers for a needy kiss. She licked his lower lip, pushed her tongue inside his mouth, taking him, all of him, as their kiss became deeper, more demanding.
All the new shoes she’d bought with Ruby were still in their boxes on the kitchen counter, and he swiped them off with one wave of his arm. Then he lifted her and sat her down, stepping between her legs. She wore the green dress from earlier, and he lifted the hem to spread her thighs wide. Then he yanked her to him, pressing his cock against her pussy, already damp and throbbing.
“Yes,” she said. “I want to feel you.”
“I want to taste you,” he murmured against her lips.
“That’s okay, too.”
He kissed her neck, her collarbone, and the bit of cleavage the stretchy dress revealed. She held his head in her hands as he sank to his knees before her, until he was eye-level with her sex.
He pulled her panties down her hips and legs and tossed them aside. Absently, she noted it was the first time she’d ever seen him refrain from putting an item in its proper place.
He was looking at her. “So beautiful,” he murmured, and then he kissed her clit, softly at first before darting his tongue out to swirl around the swollen flesh.
“Oh, yes, Ash…”
He pulled away to blow softly on her wet clit, and she moaned. He brought his lips to her again, sliding his tongue along her slick folds, tasting, licking, sucking….
He drew her clit into his mouth, at the same time plunging two fingers into her. Her thighs trembled around his head, and she held him to her, bowing her back as a shudder ripped through her, and she came with his face buried deep in her pussy.
He stood. “Stay just like that.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, too spent to move.
She heard him at the sink, washing his hands and then the now-familiar clicking of his camera. She experienced a moment of hesitation, but it was over in a second. Whatever he did, whatever he turned into art, it came out beautiful. She was beginning to trust him.
And, yes. If she looked closely at the feelings coursing through her as he clicked away, she had to admit she loved the way he saw her, and, even better, she loved the fact that she was beginning to see herself that way, too.
For the first time since he’d started taking photographs of women, Ash wondered if he’d be able to truly capture his subject’s beauty. Because now, as he climbed onto a chair to take a shot of Joy, he saw something in her he couldn’t quite express through film.
Because you like this one.
A lot.
With a start, Ash realized he was developing feelings for Joy, feelings he would rather not think about.
He didn’t need this.
The very things he adored about her were the very things he didn’t want in a relationship. Hell,
he didn’t need—or want—a relationship at all.
And with Joy? She couldn’t even remember to charge her cell phone or fold her laundry. Her place was a wreck (a detail that generally brought Ash’s facial tic to the surface), and her car looked like someone had been living out of it.
But as he viewed her now through his camera lens, something in his heart softened. Her red hair was a wild mess, her eyes were heavy-lidded, satiated. Her dress was hiked around her waist, ending just at the tops of her thighs. She had a whimsical, satisfied smile on her face, and he couldn’t stop the pure male pride that surged through him.
He’d put that smile on her face.
He could still taste her on his lips, and his cock strained against his jeans. As he circled her, snapping shots, he couldn’t stop the images from invading his mind of what he wanted to do to her, the ways he wanted to fuck her.
His balls drew up, and his cock was hard as he zoomed his camera lens to take a close-up of her face. With her petite nose, her mouth that curved up slightly on both sides, and smoky hazel eyes, she was breathtaking.
Suddenly he needed to feel those lips on his. Stepping forward, he kissed her and she sighed against his mouth. “Beautiful girl, I need to see you. All of you.” Opening her legs, he took her hand and placed her palm on her sex. “Do you ever touch yourself, Joy?”
She paused and then nodded.
“Do you think of me?”
“Yes, and your… your art.”
“Show me what you do. Show me how you pleasure yourself.” He kissed her again, and after a minute he felt her arm shift as she began to move her hand between them.
“Yes, that’s a good girl.” He opened her thighs wider, exposing her fully to his gaze. He was so hard, but watching her was exquisite torture. He could not look away.
With one hand, she spread her glistening lips open, and with her other hand she leisurely ran her fingers from her entrance to her clit and back again.
Her eyes sparkled, glossy and hazel, as she watched him. Her movements became faster, and he saw the muscles of her legs tense, saw her toes flex as she stroked herself faster, thrust two fingers deep inside her pussy. “Oh, fuck, Ash…”