His gaze shot up to meet mine, questions in his dark eyes.
“I think I went a little crazy,” he said, his words bumping together as his body worked through a long shudder.
“I think we both did,” I said, taking one of his hands in mine.
Our fingers wove together and he studied our joined hands before speaking again.
“You’re really okay?”
“Ash, if you buy me daisies instead of tulips, I will lie and say I love them; if you eat the last cookie and leave the jar empty, I’ll lie and say I wasn’t hungry; if you wear socks with sandals, I’ll lie and say I don’t care—but I promise, I’m not lying about this.”
I leaned forward and kissed his bare shoulder, his skin cool and satin smooth.
“You’re cold. Come back to bed.”
He sighed and his shoulders lifted a little as if a great weight had been released.
He was still naked, but unembarrassed by his body. Unlike me. Despite what we’d just done, I slipped my pajamas back on before sliding into bed.
He pulled me against him immediately, shivering only slightly when our legs tangled and my cold feet pressed against his calves.
He shifted, his body tense.
“Laney,” he said, his voice still uncertain. “I didn’t use a condom.”
“It’s fine,” I said calmly. “I have an IUD. I can’t get pregnant.”
There was a long pause, the night drawing out the moment.
Then his arms tightened around me again. “Laney, I . . .”
I stroked his strong forearms as they held me.
“No, not now. In the daylight—that’s when we’ll work things out. Now, in the darkness, we’ll just hold each other. Tonight, let’s believe the fairytale.”
His arms relaxed a fraction and I felt his soft lips in my hair.
All the worries, all the fears were silenced within that deep quiet of my aunt’s bedroom, one cold Chicago night.
Light was filtering through the thin curtains when I woke up. I was immediately aware of the large solid body behind me, not least because Ash was holding my boob and his erection was pressing into my ass.
What had happened last night, now, in the daylight, it felt awkward.
I was about to try and slide out of the bed without waking him, when Ash’s long fingers flexed as he swam toward wakefulness, squeezing my breast gently. I gasped, and he stroked my hard nipple, moving his hips in a rocking motion.
I turned in his arms, and for a moment his eyelids drooped and he let out a long sigh. He looked up again, watching me carefully as his fingers slid under my shirt, stroking the soft skin between my small breasts, then closing his hand over the warm flesh.
A sigh of pleasure turned into a moan of arousal and that sparked a fire in Ash.
“Last night was too fast,” he murmured, his voice husky in my ear. “I want to make love to my wife.”
Ash
I’d never used a woman the way I’d used Laney last night, and I was ashamed. It had just been fucking, proving to myself that I wasn’t what the bastard had tried to make me. I was no one’s bitch. I’d rather die. And I mean that in the literal put-a-gun-to-my-head-and-pull-the-fucking-trigger way.
But even in my half-waking, half-dreaming state, it wasn’t the violent crash of urgent, thoughtless physical release that I’d had with Yveta: it was more. I just wasn’t sure why or how much more. It didn’t make sense, but it did. We weren’t a match, but we were. We weren’t in love, but we were married.
I respected her, admired her, and she deserved more than heated rutting at the dark end of a nightmare. And if all I had to give her was a warm body with a frozen heart, then I’d make it the best I could.
I kissed down her shoulder and arm, turning her so she was on her back, staring up at me. Surprise became desire, turning her eyes smoky, and she took my hand and pressed it between her legs. Her gray eyes held mine as my hand slipped from the waistband of her pajamas. My fingers met the soft cotton between her thighs, already damp.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice soft and aching.
“Beautiful wife, what do you like?” I asked, kissing down her neck as her back arched, pressing her covered breasts against my bare chest.
I paused, meeting her eyes, seeing a faint flush of embarrassment.
She laughed awkwardly. “Just the usual stuff, you know?”
“Hmm, well, this morning I will make your body our playground, yes? Stop me if there’s something you don’t like.” I was serious for a moment. “I don’t have anything. All I have is my body. I like fucking. I’m good at it. Last night wasn’t . . . I want to make you feel good.”
And it’s all I have to offer. Because sex makes you feel alive. Because you’re so fucking sexy and you don’t even know it, because you’re stunning, so brave, and because I know we’ll be amazing together.
“This is for you, Laney.”
“I liked the massage you gave me,” she said, smiling up at me, her cheeks pink.
“But that sent you to sleep,” I argued, puzzled.