Fighting Shadows (On the Ropes #2)

“Yeah, I’m fine, but I have something to tell you, but um . . . I’d really like to try something first.” She began to chew on her bottom lip.

“Ash . . . what’s going on?” I asked as I heard Max cussing around the corner.

“I really want to kiss you,” she rushed.

My lips tipped in a smile. Oh, I had plans to be doing far more than just kissing her, but right then, I really fucking loved that she had ideas of her own.

“Okaaaay. Right after you tell me what has you all worked up, I’ll see what I can do to make that happen.” I caught sight of Donna peeking her head around the corner and jumping away as soon as we made eye contact.

“You’re gonna be pissed though,” she whined and then let out a loud huff. “I don’t have enough time to make you laugh again. You have no idea how much work that is.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“So, really, it’s now or never.” She took a step forward.

I leaned away. “Tell me what the hell is going on,” I demanded when the way she was acting began to unnerve me.

Her shoulders fell. “Quarry’s drunk. He and Max were playing cards and betting shots. Well . . . it appears Q sucks.”

“What!” I exclaimed, backing up and knocking the cans of spray paint over.

“He kinda just puked . . . all over himself.”

“We’ve been here an hour!” I yelled at her as if it were somehow her fault my brother was a raving idiot.

“Like I said, he’s apparently really bad.”

“Son of a bitch,” I mumbled to myself as I pushed past her.

Sure as shit, I found my fourteen-year-old, tattooed brother covered in his own puke and laughing about it while he was sitting on a cardboard box with a homeless man.

I had two options.

As I looked up at Ash, who was nervously toying with her hair next to me, I realized I was really fucking sick and tired of my default choice.

“Ash, help me get some towels out of the van,” I snapped. “Do not let him out of your sight,” I said to Max, who was laughing at whatever the hell Q was slurring.

Max saluted then replied, “Not a problem.”

I headed to where we had parked in the alley behind the condemned buildings.

“I’m sorry,” Ash whined. “In Max’s defense, Quarry does not look fourteen.”

“He doesn’t look twenty-one either!” I shouted over my shoulder.

She groaned, but her footsteps continued to crunch against the gravel behind me.

After using the remote to open the sliding door, I went to the passenger’s side, maneuvering myself in the tight space between the door and the building.

“Little help!” I called out to Ash, who had absolutely no way of getting around me.

That was pretty much exactly why I had done it though.

“I’m coming.” She turned sideways and tried to squeeze past me, her breasts brushing against my shoulder.

Just as she started to climb into the van in search of the nonexistent towels, I looped an arm around her hips and dragged her down. She squealed as she fell back, landing directly on my lap.

She looked up at me, surprised.

“Let’s go back to the part where you said you wanted to kiss me.”

A huge Ash Mabie smile spread across her face as if she had just won the lottery. It wasn’t sexy. It was better because it might have been the best gift anyone had ever given me.

She absolutely wanted me, and what that gave me was immeasurable.

I was a miserable asshole in a wheelchair. I had no money. Nothing to offer her. She certainly was not winning any lottery when it came to being with me. Yet when Ash fell onto my lap, she was genuinely affected by the contact. It wasn’t that sparks flew or our two souls bonded or any of that other shit people spout. It was a simple biological fact.

Her cheeks blushed.

Her eyes dropped to my mouth.

Her body responded to me.

In that moment, she reminded me that I was still a man.

And I had every single intention of showing her exactly how right she really was.

Without warning, I took her lips in a rough kiss. She bumbled it, opening her mouth too quickly, causing our teeth to clink, but I didn’t allow it to slow me. I took control, deepening it and coaxing her tongue into a smooth rhythm she met stroke for stroke.

That fucking mouth would be the end of me. I loved it when she used it to smile—and even more when she used it to laugh—but it was so much better when it was moving against mine.

Her racing heart fueled me forward. After trailing a hand up her back and into her long hair, I gently fisted it just enough to urge her to move. She shifted to a better angle, and I groaned into her mouth when she settled against my straining cock.

At the noise, she pulled away. I tried to follow, but she stood.

“Hey hey hey. Where are you going?” I nabbed her hand and pulled her back toward me.

She rewarded me with a quiet giggle, but I took the back of her neck, silencing her with my lips. Our arms tangled as we both tried to find a way to get close without the separation my wheelchair required. It was tedious and entirely too time consuming for me.