Asher is too much of a gentleman to take advantage of me. I’m a little peeved about that. He visits every day, and brought me clothes to wear instead of the hideous hospital gown I’ve been trapped in for two weeks.
He says he came to check on me that first day, and he’s here every day after work to keep me company. Skittish about touching me, his eyes wander to the bandages on my arms and linger on my lips.
I know exactly what he’s thinking. I’m thinking it too, wondering how he’ll taste when he finally kisses me.
As for the bandages on my arms, they’re less bulky now. According to the wound nurse, I shouldn’t need them much longer. The burns are minimal and healing nicely.
“It’s your turn, little backpack.” The low rumble of his voice never fails to send a shiver down my spine. The man won’t touch me, but he loves to call me little backpack. There’s a simmering intimacy building between us.
Between two people who don’t touch, but I feel his eyes on me. They leave a blistering trail of heat behind them.
Smoldering.
Incinerating.
A firestorm ready to erupt.
I glance at the deck. “I’m tired of playing cards.”
We’ve run the gamut of Gin Rummy, War, Go Fish, Spades, Hearts, and more. I’m ready to breathe a little fresh air.
“How can it take so long to kick me out of this place?”
It’s a little before noon. Asher took off work early to break me out of this joint.
I’m hungry and cranky, because I don’t want another hospital meal tray.
“They have procedures they have to follow.” He says it with far more patience than I feel.
“Well, their procedures are slow as shit.” I use air quotes for emphasis.
“You, my dear, are impatient. Don’t worry, they’ll release you, and when they do, I have the perfect place to take you.”
I’m hoping that’s his house and it has a massive bed where I can strip him out of his clothes and finally discover if his body looks as amazing as I imagine. If he kisses as good as in my fantasies. And finally, if he fucks like I hope he does, wild and unrestrained.
I need something earth-shattering if I’m going to move on.
“Sorry.” I curl my lower lip between my teeth. “I don’t like not having control, and I’m really tired of these four walls. I’m cranky and grouchy.”
“Well, I have a solution for that.”
“Go on?” I’m curious what kinds of plans he’s made. It’s Friday and he’s alluded to taking me out on the town and introducing me to his friends. He hasn’t mentioned taking me home.
He curls his finger in a come hither gesture and I lean forward. He leans close and lowers his voice to a whisper, making a show of looking out toward the hall.
“Closer, little backpack.”
I’ve never had a nickname before, well other than Evie, but that’s just a kid’s name. It doesn’t mean anything. When Asher calls me little backpack, my insides turn to mush and my fantasies kick into high gear.
“What?” I lower my voice and play along. I feel like we’re two kids trying to get away with something.
We lean over the rickety hospital tray, our faces inches apart. My attention is glued to the door, following the direction of his gaze, which is why I miss it when he grabs my face, cups my cheeks, and presses his lips to mine.
An electric jolt shoots through my body and my muscles tense, but that means nothing to me. I’m lost to the sensation as he pushes his tongue gently between my lips. His hands slide around to cup my nape, making it impossible to pull away.
But that’s the thing, I don’t want to pull away. In fact, I have a little something in store for him, a tease to make him twitch, but first…this kiss.
Sparks rush through me and I sink into the way he holds me, like he’s never letting me go. Like he owns this kiss and is taking what he wants. I’m more than inclined to give it to him.
His tongue teases mine, chasing, exploring, meeting me in a fervent dance as desire rushes through us. A groan slips from his throat.
Low, guttural, needy.
It’s so damn sexy and sends a rush of sensation between my thighs. My panties dampen as my fingers curl in the sheets. Turned on doesn’t begin to describe my wanton state. I’m ready to crawl onto his lap and ride him like I’ve done in my dreams.
Which brings me to how I intend to make him squirm.
I inch my fingers forward, well aware of how he’s sitting and I aim to have some fun at his expense. I want to see how he’ll react when I touch him.
My fingers brush his knee and another low groan escapes him. He lets go all pretense and curls his fingers in my hair where he can control me.
Like I’m going to let him control our kiss.
The thing is, I love it.
I love his take charge attitude.
His body tenses when my fingers slide up his thigh, I lean forward and beg for him to deepen the kiss. The man doesn’t disappoint.
There’s nothing soft or gentle in what comes next. He’s hungry, ravenous even, as he bites and licks and nips at my lips. His tongue lashes against mine as I surrender to the kiss and slip my fingers right over the hard, rigid length of his cock which tents the fabric of his pants.
My expectation is he’ll jump. As for me, my heart thuds in time with each stroke of his tongue against mine, each nip of his teeth on my lips. My breaths flutter and still, only to pick up again as I pant against him. My heart beats faster as his lips lock to mine, deepening the kiss.
Holy hell, the man can kiss.
Asher is kissing me and it’s way better than what my poor mind imagined.
It’s mind-blowing, pulse-pounding, and breathtakingly insane.
This is happening and he’s rock hard. The turgid length of him stiffens in my hand and gives a little jerk. He clamps his fingers around my wrist and holds my hand tight against his groin.
“You get one warning. Don’t tease the beast. Once you open those floodgates, I won’t stop until I’ve had every piece of you, owned every inch of your hot little body, and buried myself so deep inside your warm, wet pussy that you’ll never forget my name. I’ve spent every night with my fist right where your hand is, jerking off as I think about fucking you. About how it’s going to feel when I finally slip inside of you.” He draws back, hovering a breath away, but it’s enough. “So be very careful. If you’re not intending to take this to that level, hands off my dick. This is your one chance to take a step back, but it’s the only chance you’ll have. I want you.”
I hear him.
I hear every filthy word and he steals my breath with his honesty, the freedom with which he talks about, not just sex, but wanting it with me.
Taking me.
I wrap my free arm around his shoulder and run my fingers through his hair. I don’t move. I’m barely breathing, and I close my eyes as time comes to a screeching halt.
I can stay like this forever, wrapped in the potency of his desire, my fingers curved around the evidence of his arousal. I’m not taking this back.
Justin never made me feel this alive. Sex was something we shared, but didn’t talk about, not openly like this. Instead, it was a dirty secret that needed to be locked away.
Asher doesn’t lock anything away. He claims what he wants, expressing his desires head on, upfront, eager, open, and demanding. I believe him too. I can let go of his dick and he won’t push things between us, or I can live recklessly. I can take from him, claim this moment as mine and pray it eases the unbearable pain within me.
Would that be so bad?
Asher knows I don’t live around here. Anything we do is temporary. It comes with an expiration date. If he’s going to use me, why can’t I use him back?
My heart lodges in my throat and I consider pulling my hand away. My entire body trembles because this is a huge step for me.
“Evelyn…” His hot breath whispers across my skin, desperate, wanting, but waiting for me to
continue. “For the love of God, don’t let go.” Tilting his head back, he stares at the ceiling tiles overhead. “Fuck, I’ve thought about you every second of every day. Your hand feels so damn good.”
It’s enough that I feel a visceral punch to my gut knowing he thinks about me the same way I think about him. That he not only fantasizes about me, but touches himself while he thinks of fucking me. It’s erotic as hell.
Exciting.
And so far out of my comfort zone.
Am I brave enough to take what I want?
The color of his eyes deepens to the darkest emerald. They’re unrelenting as they bore into me, begging me to choose him—to choose us.
He digs deep, uncovering my secrets, and making them his. I’m well aware I’m gripping his cock. The thin fabric of his pants is merely an inconvenience for what we want to pursue.
His grip on my wrist is firm, confident, and completely without shame. This is a man who’s not afraid to fuck, not afraid to take what he wants, and is so much more confident about his body than I am.
“Feel how you affect me, how hard I get for you.” He begins to move his hand, making mine move beneath him. He shows me how to stroke him, and it’s not soft and gentle.
A throat clears behind us and we jerk apart. My hand however is still clamped around his dick. He refuses to release me there, although he no longer has his fingers threaded through my hair. He twists in the bed and glances over at the doctor, like it’s nothing having him walk in on us mid-kiss and with my hand wrapped around Asher’s dick.
“Miss Thornton?”
My chin dips and my hair falls over my face. Heat radiates off my cheeks. Talk about getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Or should I say pickle jar. Shit, Asher is packing. My fingers barely curl around his girth and I’m pretty sure I’ll be walking bowlegged for a week after he finally takes me. Sadly, that won’t be here. Or now.
“Yes, Dr. Allen?”
“I have your discharge papers.”
“Well.” Asher’s voice is raspy, low, utterly addictive, and sexy as hell. “It’s about damn time.”
He releases me and cups his hands over his lap. Not that Dr. Allen is an idiot. I’m wondering how many times he’s walked in on a patient with her hand on a man’s dick and his tongue shoved down her throat. I scoot back on the bed, trying to look like I didn’t have my hand exactly where it looked like I had it.
“That’s great,” I say.
Dr. Allen glances at Asher, but I give a little wave. “It’s okay, you can say what you need to in front of him.” I have little to hide, besides I came out of everything unscathed. Except for a few burns, I’m making a full recovery.
With me blocking Prescott from getting updates about my medical status, the hospital staff is hesitant about leaking anything they shouldn’t. I appreciate this more than they know, and feel intensely guilty about it.
Prescott isn’t my enemy. He only wants the best for me, but I’m incapable of accepting the help he offers, or the care, consideration, and yes, maybe even love he might feel for me.
I am, after all, the only thing left of his best friend. As for his son, I’m the daughter-in-law he almost had, until tragedy tore apart our world.
We’re connected through my father and his son. I don’t want to take that away, but he’s not my father. He can’t fill that void, and he can’t make the tragedy I endured go away.
Nobody can.
Fortunately, Dr. Allen doesn’t take much of my time. A few minutes later, the discharge coordinator comes in to give me last minute instructions.
“Where can we send your appointment reminders?” The nurse can’t keep her greedy eyes off Asher. She barely looks at me.
I rattle off my email address fully aware she’s barely listening to me. Her eyes are all over Asher and I want to dig her eyeballs out with my nails.
Go away bitch, he’s mine.
But is he?
I have no intention of sticking around.
My plans for hiking the John Muir trail are derailed, but fresh plastic is burning a hole in my wallet. All I need is to get outfitted with the best of the best and set off…which means leaving Asher behind.
So, why am I hesitating?
Because I want to wake up beside a man like Asher. I want to feel his arms wrapped around me. I don’t want to live lonely and alone, or waste any more days, or nights, running away from a past I can’t change.
I bite my lower lip because jealousy is not my thing. Except, I see green.
His lips were on me. His tongue was inside my mouth, thrusting like he wants to fuck me. His entire body jerked the moment I put my hand on his dick. The man is mine, and this bitch had better take ten steps back before I rip her head off.
I clear my throat and pull her attention back to me.
“You can send everything to my email, or text me on my phone. I don’t have an address—”
“You don’t?” She looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
“Just give your home address. It doesn’t have to be local.” Asher places a hand on my leg and his fingers stroke my inner thigh. He’s teasing me, seeing how close I’ll let him get before pulling away.
“But I don’t have a home address.” I’m not ready to discuss this.
“What do you mean?”
He knows I don’t live around here, but he doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know I walked away from my life.
“Um, okay,” the nurse says. “We can use an email if you prefer.” My discharge nurse does the bare minimum in getting me checked out. While, she shoves papers in my face, her attention zeroes in on Asher.
“I haven’t seen you around much, Ace. How’re you doing?”
“I’m good, Maggie.”
Fuck, he knows her name. And Ace?
That’s his nickname.
This woman knows Asher. Like, she know knows him on a level I don’t; a level which involves history, familiarity, and maybe more. My eyes pinch as I clutch my discharge paperwork to my chest.
“I missed your party. Maybe we can get together sometime?”
Did she ask him out? In front of me? This bitch has balls.
Why do I feel so damn possessive?
Asher shifts on the bed and takes my hand in his. His eyes are on Maggie as he lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the backs of my knuckles.
“Maybe another time.”
Her gaze darts to our hands and she gives a little pout. “You always know where to find me, if you change your mind.” With those words, she pivots and marches out of the room.
I can’t help but clench my teeth.
A man like Asher, with his overbearing confidence and that smug smirk on his face, must have tons of women at his beck and call. I’m not his first, and I won’t be his last.
But, will I be his right now?
The way my mind is spiraling out of control, I feel a bit off kilter, and I’m angry. Fury floods my veins and it has nothing to do with flouncy Nurse Maggie. A deep-seated anger has been brewing in my gut for over a year and it’s about ready to explode.
I lost the man I loved.
Justin was supposed to be my forever.
Yet, the universe took him from me. All our love, hope, and dreams meant nothing. In the blink of an eye, I went from having it all to having nothing.
My heart pinches. Pain stabs through me. I remember why I walked away and rub my breastbone. It does nothing to ease the pain.
Live in the present. I need to remember my motto.
There are appointments with plastic surgery I need to keep, appointments with neurology for the concussion, and of course my primary care doctor needs to see me. Only he, or she, doesn’t exist.
I have no home of record.
The medications I need to get filled will get filled, but not by my pharmacist. I have no pharmacist. The things I need to watch out for are a long list of symptoms I’m going to ignore. They should prompt me to seek immediate medical attention but I don�
�t care. My doctors do. They’re concerned about the holes in my memory. Frankly, I’m happy for the holes. If they could somehow figure out a way to erase all my memories I’d be a much happier person.
I’d be happier because I wouldn’t remember that gut-wrenching sensation when I knew we were all going to die. I wouldn’t remember the pain, the smells, and the screams which were replaced by the worst silence I’d ever experienced. I wouldn’t remember the moment when they died and I lived.
“Evelyn? Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” I shake off the heavy feelings and plaster a fake smile on my face.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I glance at the door. “Can we get out of here?”
He stands and offers his hand to help me out of the bed. When my feet hit the floor, sudden panic overwhelms me, because I’m not sure of my next step.
If I had my gear, I’d be on a trail, looking for the next campsite. But I have none of that, and I have no idea where I’m going to spend the night.
A throat clears at the door. “Excuse me, Evelyn Thornton?”
“That’s me.”
Why is a police detective asking about me?
“Hey, Grant, what’s up?” Asher’s smile is big. He takes a step forward and thrusts out his hand. The cop’s badge reads Grant Malone and he clears his throat as he shakes Asher’s hand.
Asher glances over his shoulder. His brows pinch together and his head swivels back to Grant. He takes a step to the side and places himself between me and Detective Malone.
“Sorry, Ace, but will you please stand aside.” Detective Malone’s tone is formal and devoid of emotion.
“Stand aside for what reason?” Asher’s entire body tenses.
The detective pins me with his hard gaze. “Miss Thornton, you’re under arrest—”
“Under arrest?” I reach for Asher. “Why am I under arrest?”
I’ve literally done nothing, unless this is about my revolver. California gun laws are a bit extreme, but I can’t imagine carrying a weapon without a permit is grounds for arrest.
“What’s this about, Grant?” Asher isn’t moving except to step in front of me to block me from the detective.
Firestorm: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) Page 9
