And I ignore.
I ignore his words. I ignore the guilt in my stomach and the screams in my head. I ignore the internal battle I can see going on inside him. I want to forget all the uncertainties growing in my life and make him forget dark closets and tape and belts and his silent prison.
I ignore it all as I slip my hand around the back of his neck and pull him into me to kiss and then trail my tongue along the bottom of his lip. Ashton’s breath hitches and I feel the muscles cord beneath my fingers as he hesitates, his hand fisting the pillow beside my head as he fights it.
I don’t want him to fight anymore. I’m desperate to see that vulnerable side of him again. I need to feel close to him again. I want to make him feel good. I want me to feel good. I want to just let go of . . . everything.
That’s what it feels like when I’m with Ashton.
Like I’m letting go.
And that’s why I give him a level stare and demand, “Help me forget for a while.”
He stops hesitating.
He crashes down into my mouth with an unreserved fierceness. I match it, kissing him like I need the air in his lungs to survive. A part of me is afraid. I feel that deep inside. I don’t know what this is going to lead to and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
But I don’t think I’ll stop it.
It’s as if he can read my mind. He breaks free and looks down at me to whisper, “We won’t . . . I won’t take anything away from you today, Irish. I won’t ever do that while I’m not . . . free.” I don’t miss the fact that he’s not using words like “screw” or “fuck” in typical Ashton fashion. Then again, I don’t have the typical Ashton here with me anymore. I have the one he hides from everyone else.
I close my eyes as his lips find my throat and I marvel at how they’re both soft and forceful. By the time they reach my collarbone, my chest is heaving. Ashton tugs my shirt up and over my head with ease. Tossing it to the floor, he lifts himself up enough that he can stare down at my bare chest, making all the nerves within my breasts tingle. “That morning I woke up in here . . .” His eyes flicker up to catch me watching him before descending again. “I was ready to drop to my knees and beg you to uncover these.” A hiss escapes me as he cups and caresses first one and then the other breast, as if memorizing their shape and size and feel. His thumb brushes a hardened nipple and a shudder runs through me. With a small groan, I gasp as Ashton’s mouth closes over it, his tongue moving with skill. I can’t help but wrap my arms around his head and pull him closer, crying out as his teeth send a sharp thrill straight down to my core.
I’ve noticed that when I make sounds like that, even unintentionally, Ashton reacts. This time he breaks free long enough to yank his own shirt over his head. The second it’s off, his hand is diving beneath me to grasp the back of my pajama bottoms. He pulls them down and off my hips without delay, panties and all. In seconds I’m completely undressed and his mouth is back around my nipple.
I wrap my arms around his head again and rest my head back into the pillow, reveling in the feel of his scorching skin against mine and his erection digging into my thigh. I have the urge to reach down and wrap my hand around it, but it would involve moving and I’m too comfortable right now. So I stay put while I try to imagine what Ashton would feel like inside me. Just the thought has my thighs relaxing and tensing at the same time and wetness beginning to pool.
And that’s how Ashton’s hand discovers me when it slides down. “Holy fuck, Irish . . .” I hear him mutter, and I tighten my grip of his head against me as my head lolls back and I moan, silently thanking my professor for my shitty chem grade.
“This won’t work . . .” Ashton abruptly rolls off the bed.
Panic bubbles. I think I’ve done something wrong. Is he going to leave me like this?
“Sit up, Irish.”
I obey, and he lets out a groan as he turns my body and pulls my legs over the side of the bed, pausing to let his eyes drag the length of my frame. “Lean back on your elbows.”
I let out a small gasp but I do as asked. I think I know what he’s doing. Ashton steps forward, keeping his eyes locked to mine as his hands settle on the tops of my thighs. “The thing about these damn beds . . .” I feel the force against my thigh muscles as Ashton’s hands began to push my legs apart. I hold my breath, suddenly petrified.
I know what he’s doing and I’m freaking out.