“I won’t hurt you,” he said, leaning in and gently taking the needle from my hands.
Before I could protest, he’d pressed the point into my skin, depressed the plunger, and it was all over.
He placed the plastic cap over the empty needle and left it on my bedside table without a word.
It was an oddly intimate moment.
Laney
THE FRONT DOOR crashed open, making me jump. I dropped the knife I’d been holding, glad I hadn’t lost a finger while slicing onions. I looked over my shoulder, ready to hand Ash his ass, but the smile on his face stopped me in my tracks.
I’d become so used to seeing him devoid of expression, that my heart jolted with pleasure and a warm feeling filled me.
His dark eyes sparkled, and I saw the dimples in his cheeks for the first time in so long. Too long. He strode toward me, happiness flowing around him.
Without pausing, he yanked me into his arms and twirled me around, making me feel graceful and giddy all at the same time.
“What’s going on?” I gasped, half laughing.
“We’re celebrating!” he shouted, waltzing around the tiny kitchen as my feet dangled above the ground.
His joy was infectious and soon I was shrieking with laughter as we whirled in circles.
“W-what are we laughing about?” I hiccupped.
“I have an audition,” he shouted happily. “A real audition in a real theater—to dance!”
“Oh my God! How did that happen? When? Where? How? Did I say when? What is it? Ash, put me down, I can’t breathe!”
I slid down Ash’s chest, my cheeks reddening as I felt every hard ridge and plane of his body, until my face was pressed against his heart, listening to the wild pounding begin to ease as he rocked me gently, his hips undulating in a slow rumba.
“This is what I’ve been waiting for,” he whispered, his breath blowing across my neck as he buried his face in my hair. “Let’s go out and celebrate—anything you want, anywhere you want to go.”
I started to remind him that he was saving his money and couldn’t afford to treat me, but I bit the words back. Ash was a proud man, and being reminded of how little he had would only annoy him. I wouldn’t spoil this moment.
“That sounds wonderful!”
Ash grabbed my hand and started tugging me toward the door.
“Wait!” I laughed. “I need a few minutes to get changed and you’re still in your work clothes.”
Ash looked down at his filthy jeans and boots with steel toecaps, and gave a rueful smile.
“I guess I’d better shower.”
He bent over to unlace his boots, and don’t judge me, but I couldn’t help checking out his ass. I knew I shouldn’t, but he had such a great ass: tight and round and squeezable as he filled out his jeans deliciously.
I glanced away quickly as he stood up again.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you—you’ve got mail,” and I pointed at the coffee table in the living room.
Ash frowned, glaring at the brown envelope as if it would bite him.
“It’s from the Embassy,” I said.
He ripped open the envelope, pulling out several pieces of paper, then swore in his own language.
“What’s wrong?”
“They won’t send me a passport yet. It’s still being investigated.”
My heart flip-flopped uncomfortably.
“I have temporary ID, but I don’t know if that will be enough to get access to my bank account,” and he scowled.
“We’ll work on that tomorrow,” I said quickly. “We’re celebrating tonight, remember?”
Ash smiled, his good mood instantly restored. Then he headed toward the shower in my bedroom, shedding clothes as he went.
“You are so messy!” I yelled after him, not really caring. “And you’re going to tell me everything about the audition!”
Happy laughter was his only reply and I found myself grinning inanely at the bedroom door. Happy Ash was a beautiful thing, and it had been so long.
We’d gotten a rhythm going when it came to sharing the small space of my apartment. Being in the bathroom meant you had run of the bedroom, too. It worked, kind of, avoiding embarrassing moments of nudity.
But because Ash was in a hurry to go out, while he showered I rifled through my closet to find something to wear.
I’d just pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and silky tank-top when the bathroom door opened, a cloud of steam following Ash as he stepped out buck naked, his towel still in his hand.
It was several seconds before my brain kicked into gear and I turned away, Ash winding the towel around his waist, hiding an endowment that was still generous, even in the resting position.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I just . . . um, I’ll be outside.”
I hurried from the room, my cheeks glowing.
A moment later, my bedroom door opened and Ash walked out wearing a pair of clean jeans and tugging a plain black t-shirt over his head. He was head-to-toe in thrift store clothes and he looked like a million dollars.
I scuttled past him, ignoring the amused, questioning glance he sent my way.