But now it occurred to her that she wished she did have it, just in case. She could write notes on it, to her parents, her friends. Or texts that could be found later if the worst happened.
“You’re looking pretty grim.”
She nearly jumped. She hadn’t realized he’d come up beside her. “I...was just thinking.”
“Well, there’s a news flash,” he said, and the way he said it made her smile again. “About what? Being stuck in a storm cellar?”
“A pretty nice storm cellar. I would have pictured something rather dark and dank.”
“It’ll be dark if—” he grimaced “—make that when the power goes out.” He glanced around. “But it is nice. Dad built it, but furnished and stocked it to my mother’s specifications. She’s all about taking care of people.”
Ashley’s smile widened. “Good nurses are like that. My mother’s the same.”
“But that’s not what you were thinking about.”
She’d hoped to divert him, but she should have known better. This was not a man who would be diverted unless he wanted to be. “No. I was thinking about...leaving notes for my family and friends. Just in case.”
For an instant, he simply looked at her, but then he took a step and wrapped her in his arms. “Hey, hey, don’t be going there. We’ll be fine.”
She should pull herself together. She should tell him she was all right. She should stand on her own two feet as she always had.
But this felt too darned good to do any of that.
Just for a minute or two. I’m allowed that much, aren’t I?
She felt a shiver ripple through her. She knew it was a reaction to him, to him holding her like this, but he tightened the embrace and murmured more reassurance. Which only intensified her response to the strength of him, the heat, the caring.
For a long moment, they stood there, and she felt his cheek come to rest atop her head. It felt strangely intimate, as intimate almost as that kiss. And then he went tense and his head lifted. She looked up, saw him staring at the television screen. She hadn’t been paying much attention to what the meteorologist had been saying; it had become background noise as she explored the cellar. Now she turned her head to look, but before she could register what she was seeing, the screen—and the cellar—went dark. She wasn’t startled. She’d expected the power to go out after what he’d said, but...
“What is it?” she asked. “What did she say?”
“Another touchdown, just north of Yankee Run.”
She felt a chill. It was such a cute little town. She’d hate to see it badly damaged. Did everyone have a cellar like this, or at least something? She hoped so. She’d hate to think—
It hit her then. North of Yankee Run.
They were north of Yankee Run.
Chapter 27
This time when she trembled, there was some genuine fear in it. She might not have been through a tornado before, but she’d certainly seen enough images of the aftermath and damage they could leave behind. She told herself to trust his word that they would be all right. And in fact she did trust him, more than she ever would have expected. But still...
A loud crash from outside made her jump, even though it hadn’t sounded too close. He tightened his arms.
“I suppose you’re not in the least afraid,” she said rather wryly.
“Worried,” he conceded. “Although come to think of it, it might do my father good to have to rebuild this place. Give him something else to think about.”
She supposed he meant both the bodies found in the Colton building and the cancer cases link. She found it rather touching that despite the fact that they didn’t have the close relationship she and her own father had, that this was what he thought of. “I’d hate to think of losing that amazing historic ceiling.”
“That’d really bum out my mom. She loves that thing.”
This time the crash was even louder, and much closer, and a little yelp accompanied her jump. She heard the blare of what she guessed was the SUV’s alarm faintly over the wind. Ty reached into his pocket and a moment later that noise amid all the rest stopped. But he didn’t let go of her, and she gave up all pretense of not wanting or needing the comfort. She did need it, and she surely, surely wanted it.
“I think,” he said, having to lean down to say it against her ear so she could hear him as the howl outside intensified, “we’d better hit the bunker.”
She shivered again. She wondered for a moment if he would have retreated to that final shelter if she hadn’t been here, but decided she didn’t care. She’d feel better knowing they were as safe as possible. So she didn’t resist and they headed across the cellar and into the bunker.
And then the already fierce howl became thunderous. She remembered hearing that tornados sounded like a freight train. What they hadn’t said was it made you feel as if you were stuck on the tracks watching it bear down on you. It got, impossibly, even louder. Genuine fear plunged through her as he pulled her into the cinder block shelter. She held on to him, more like clinging to him, and she didn’t care.
“It’s okay, Ash. We’ll be okay.”
She heard the words, but it felt strange. She was certain he normally would have said them quietly, comfortingly, but he had to shout them for her to hear. And two things hit her simultaneously. One, that she would accept the usually hated shortening of her name from him, and second, that if he’d told her instead that they were going to die, the thing she’d regret most at this moment was that they’d never gone beyond those kisses.
An instant later, she felt it, that lifting he’d talked about. She bit back a little scream. And then startlingly, his mouth came down on hers. As if he’d read her thought, or as if he’d had a similar one himself, a regret that they’d never explored what lay beyond the amazing fire they’d kindled with just a kiss.
He plundered her mouth and she let him. Then she probed further herself, letting the thrill of the taste of him, the feel of him, the heat of him push back the fear. It was fierce, and fast, and held a sense of urgency she’d never felt in her life. She didn’t just want, she simply had to have him. When his hands slid down from her shoulders to her waist, to pull her closer, she realized from the prod of rigid male flesh against her that he was as aroused as she was. And suddenly nothing, not who they were, not even the storm outside mattered more than having this man completely.
She became some wild thing she didn’t recognize, pulling at his clothes, hastening to shed her own. Some part of her half expected him to stop her, to rebuild that wall he persisted in putting between them, but he never faltered. Decision made, she thought dizzily as his hands cupped her breasts and his fingers toyed with her nipples, sending fire shooting through her to pool low and deep.
And then she had his shirt off and she felt a new spike of heat at the sight of that broad strong chest and flat ridged belly. She was only vaguely aware of ridding herself of the remaining barriers of cloth, and they went down to the narrow bunk in a tumble. It didn’t matter that it was narrow, because they were already so tightly together there seemed like more than enough room.
It was mad, it was wild, it was almost desperate. She couldn’t reach enough, couldn’t touch enough, couldn’t stroke enough. And when he finally levered himself over her and paused, she arched her hips and reached to guide him, giving the answer to the question she couldn’t have heard, anyway.
He drove home in a thrust as powerful as the storm outside, and she cried out with the sheer pleasure of it. Nothing mattered but this, and she vaguely realized that this was the human instinct that should amaze her, the human instinct she’d never completely understood until this moment, with this man.
Sex had been pleasurable for her before, but they’d surpassed that level with that first kiss. This was something much, much more, something bigger, something transcendent.
When he shifted to t
ake one nipple into his mouth and suckle it, then flick it with his tongue, her body careened out of control. She felt as if she were headed for some crazed plunge into the unknown. Then came the explosion, and she knew what had come before had been only a prelude.
She let herself scream because she couldn’t help it, but it was drowned out by the storm.
* * *
Ty wondered if he’d ever heard such silence in his life. He knew it technically wasn’t silence. There were noises—mostly things falling, it seemed like. Creaking as things settled. He knew it just seemed like utter, total silence after the roaring sound last night that had come closer and closer until it was deafening. The total darkness of the storm cellar intensified the feeling, and had seemed to magnify the already deafening roar.
The sound, and the rumble he could actually feel, that had brought real, genuine and thankfully rare fear with it, fear that he and Ashley wouldn’t survive the hit that sounded nearly direct.
But they had survived.
Oh, boy, had they survived.
His body was still feeling the aftershocks of that moment, a moment he would have sworn had come at the peak of the tornado strike that he knew had been far too close. The moment when she had moaned out his name as her nails dug into his back, and her sleek, hot body had clenched around him, driving him over the edge into some dizzying, swirling place he’d never been before. The pulsing throb had gone on and on, until he couldn’t even hear the howl going on above them over the hammering of his pulse in his ears.
And now, in the silent darkness, his instinct should have been to emerge, to check the damage, but all he wanted to do was stay right here, buried in the heat of her, and start all over again.
It was dark out, anyway. Better to wait until morning, right?
Even as he silently admitted he was using the dark as an excuse, she arched up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for yet another of those deep, lingering, luscious kisses. They proved just how long he’d neglected this aspect of his life by the way he responded to her instantly.
More quickly than he would have thought possible, they were soaring toward that peak again. And then in that utter and complete darkness, savoring the sweetness of holding her close, he finally slept.
It was still fairly dark when he awoke, but his inner clock was saying it was morning. Early, but morning. He’d taken off his watch for some reason—
Memory slammed home. He’d taken off the watch for fear it would scratch the beautiful, delicate silk of Ashley’s skin. Ashley, who was curled up beside him, with seemingly every inch of that naked skin against his own.
Where was the damned watch? He needed to know what time it was, needed to know if it would be light out yet, needed to check in with Elite and let them know they were all right, needed to get topside and assess, needed to find out if there was anything left standing up there.
He also knew he was focusing on all of that to avoid the huge, looming and utterly beautiful mistake he had made.
Ashley stirred. He started to pull away, as he knew he needed to. But her arms were around him, holding him close, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to detach. Not yet. Just one more sweet moment.
But the longer he stayed here, nestled against her, the more interested his rebellious body became in a rematch. And while someday, far in the future, he might be able to write off last night as an adrenaline-induced, fear-heightened lapse in judgment, doing it again now that the immediate threat was over would be something else again.
But damn, she felt good. In that instant when he’d first exploded inside her, he wouldn’t have cared one bit if that twister had landed on top of them. He half felt like it had anyway, because it had been like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. And no matter how he tried to chalk that up to a long dry spell when he’d had neither the time nor the inclination to go after no-strings sex, there was a small voice in the back of his head stupidly chanting that this was what it was supposed to be like.
“Hi,” Ashley whispered, “and wow.” And damned if her tone didn’t match that stupid voice in his head.
“Yeah,” he muttered. What he wanted to say was, Last night was incredible, let’s do it again. And again and again and again, endlessly. And that realization shook him enough to finally make the move.
He lifted himself off her, trying not to look at her slender naked body in the faint light as he stood. Not that not looking helped. He was hard all over again, and under current circumstances, it wasn’t something he could exactly hide. Then she reached for him, her slender fingers curling. The memory of the first touch of her hands on him, those fingers encircling, stroking, caressing his rigid flesh from tip to bottom, nearly made his knees buckle. Knowing her first touch would incinerate his willpower, he took a step back and away.
He saw her puzzled look. “Ty?”
She’d lifted up on her elbows, and the movement drew his eyes to the soft rounds of her breasts, where he had nuzzled and stoked, and to the rosy tips he had suckled and flicked with his tongue until she had cried out. He felt a surge of heat that nearly staggered him. He covered it by backing up another step, safely out of her reach.
She sat up, then. “Ty?” she repeated. “It’s all right. I mean...if you’re worried, I’m on birth control. There are crazies out there, so my parents insisted, just in case.”
He hadn’t even thought of that. Stupidly, it had been the last thing on his mind.
For a long silent moment, he just stared at her. The faint light from the hatch window barely gave him enough light to see her outline. But he didn’t need any light at all. He knew that limber, lanky shape intimately now, and it was etched into his memory with such depth he knew he’d carry it forever.
Along with the knowledge that this had been the biggest professional mistake of his career, probably his life. Because he already knew he was going to pay the price for this one forever.
“What’s wrong?”
“This,” he answered hoarsely. “This was wrong. A mistake.”
She went very still. “A mistake,” she said, sounding as if she were enunciating each word with exquisite care.
“Yes. It should never have happened. It was incredibly unprofessional of me, and I apologize.”
She was on her feet in an instant. “You apologize? After...that, you apologize?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. You have every right to make a complaint to my boss and—”
For the first time since he’d known her she swore, rather colorfully. “The only thing I have to complain about is myself, apparently. For being stupid enough to become a living, breathing cliché, the poor little woman falling for her bodyguard.”
Her bodyguard. That was what he was. All he was. But then the rest of what she’d said hit. Falling for? She’d fallen for him? That was crazy. She was a Hart, and no matter the local standing of the Coltons, and the higher standing of other branches of the family, she was way out of his league. They weren’t even on the same playing field.
Hell, they weren’t even playing the same game.
Chapter 28
“My friends will laugh themselves silly,” Ashley said, not caring how harsh she sounded as she gathered her scattered clothes.
“Ash—”
“Just shut up, will you please? I find I desperately need to get dressed.” And as she did so she found she needed to revoke the permission she’d silently given him. “And don’t call me that. It’s Ashley to you.” Deep down she knew she would never forget how he’d whispered it in the darkness, or how he’d groaned it out when he’d gone rigid as he pulsed fiercely inside her. “Or perhaps we should go back to Ms. Hart.”
He went very still. She told herself she didn’t care. When she wobbled pulling her right boot on, she saw from the corner of her eye him moving to help and she waved him off. If he touched her again she was afraid she might
lose her resolve. And wouldn’t the world just love to hear about the lofty Ashley Hart begging a man to...
She’d almost thought the words love her. And that made her angrier still. It wasn’t that she’d never begged before, she had. But she’d begged for her causes, for people to see reason, to listen to each other, to understand. But a man? No. Never. When Simon had left, she hadn’t asked him to reconsider, hadn’t even asked him to take her with him. So why could she picture herself begging this man all too well?
“Ashley,” he said, “please understand—”
She threw up a hand to stop him. “Oh, I do. I get it. It was...it was storm-induced madness and I was handy, right? Meaningless.”
He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Meaningless? Is that what you call something I’ll never ever forget? Something I’ll torture myself about for the rest of my life?”
She stopped with the other boot in her hand, straightened to stare at his shadowy shape. She hated that she couldn’t see his face clearly, his eyes. It was lighter than it had been even a couple of minutes ago, but his back was to it, casting his face in shadow.
“I’ve achieved greatness now, haven’t I?” She hated the way she sounded, the way the pain echoed beneath the sarcasm. “I’ve become someone’s greatest regret.” She yanked on the other boot, then straightened again. “There are some people, some I even know, who would pride themselves on that. I’ve never been one of them.”
She determinedly did not look at him as she tightened the laces and then tied them. She was aware he was getting dressed himself, and forced herself not to steal even a split-second glimpse. She didn’t need to. Every line of his powerful body was etched into her brain, probably permanently. And whatever her future held, if ever there was another man in it, she doubted very much if he would ever measure up to this one.
Colton Storm Warning Page 17
