“Oh, yeah?” I squeaked, my gaze on his lips. I missed kissing him. Had it been that long since I kissed him? I wanted to kiss him again. “What’s that?”
He sighed, his eyes raised to the ceiling. He looked back down at me, a sheepish look on his face. “My real name is not Ash. My name is actually Ashley. My mom had a slight obsession with Gone with the Wind and named me after some buffoon named Ashley. I got teased a lot about it at my old school and begged her to let me shorten it to Ash when I moved to New York and started at St. Joseph’s.”
My lips twitched a bit as I took in this piece of information. Ash stared down at me expectantly, and I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I burst out laughing, giggles ripping through my body. I hadn’t laughed like this in ages, and I couldn’t stop. Tears had sprung in the corner of my eyes, and for the first time in so long, it wasn’t because I was sad.
“Oh, go on and make fun of me,” Ash said, his eyebrows narrowed at me. He had a grin on his face though, and I launched into another set of uncontrollable giggles.
“Sorry, Ashley,” I burst out. “I’ll try not to make fun of you.”
“Come here, you,” he said, launching himself at me. I squealed and pulled back, flopping backward on the bed. I moved to roll away, but he grabbed a hold of me, his large hands holding my arms down, his body half pressed against me.
The giggles faded from me as I stared up at him. My breath got caught somewhere in the back of my throat as a wave of desire swept through me, pinning me to the bed, underneath the heat of his body. He was studying my face, looking for permission, and I gave it with a small nod. His hand came up to cup my cheek, and he pressed his lips against mine.
I’d like to say that I was cool and calm and demure when he kissed me, but that was not the case. I clung at him, desperately. I had been so worried about him, and I poured all the love I had for him into the kiss. His tongue probed at my lips, and I opened myself up to him. I grabbed at him, pulling him closer to me, and I heard him gasp. I pulled myself away, my mouth a round O of surprise. “Ash, I’m sorry.”
He smiled but there was pain in it. “It’s okay. Just…be careful of my ribs.”
I nodded, one swift up and down movement. I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling his heart beat against the soft flesh of my hand. “I’m so sorry. I can be gentle with you.”
Ash bent lower over me, his hands lingering as he traced the curves of my body with his fingertips. “I don’t want you to be gentle with me,” he admitted, his voice low.
A shiver ran through me, and I arched my back, pressing myself closer to him, as I pulled him back to me for a kiss. He moaned, a deep sound in the back of his throat, as I bit the soft skin of his lower lip. My hands were tracing the fine contours of his chest and stomach and tugging at the hem of his shirt. He pulled back for a moment, allowing me to lift his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor.
“Zoey,” he said, his voice soft. My name sounded like music when he said it, like hitting just the right notes on a piano. He unbuttoned my blouse, his fingertips grazing the skin underneath. His lips were at my throat, biting softly at the skin there, causing goose bumps to ripple across my arms. I shrugged out of the shirt and pulled him down on top of me, amazed at how our bodies fit together. My feet just reached the tops of his, as our legs tangled around each other. Ash was moving against me, his breathing hard and labored.
Ash sat up, and I felt a breeze of cold air rush across my skin at the absence of his warm skin against mine. He tugged me up, into his lap. His hands were lost in my hair as he leaned down to kiss me again, his tongue sweeping over my jawline, over my lips before plunging between them. I was drowning in his kiss and the way he made me feel. I rolled my hips against him, and I felt him gasp. His palms were pressed hard against my back, making quick work of the hooks of my bra.
I inhaled sharply, as my bra straps fell down my shoulders and revealed my breasts. I yanked myself back, suddenly self-conscious. I was aware of the nakedness, the bit of me that I had never shown anyone. And now it was marred, scarred and cut from the Awakened I had battled. I felt the raised skin of the scar on my face and an embarrassed flush filled my face. I started to pull back, but Ash’s arm shot out, wrapping around my waist, and holding me close to him, my bare skin pressed against his.
“No,” he whispered softly, his lips at my forehead, my temple, and the soft skin below my ear. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful, Zoey, every single bit of you.” His soft lips traced the sensitive skin of my scar. “You’re a fighter, and it’s the sexiest and most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t ever cover yourself up. Don’t ever be ashamed.”