Shattered

by Tracy Wolff

  “What’s this?” he murmurs when he gets to the large, round port scar that’s a few inches below my collarbone.

  “Surgery,” I gasp out, my whole body tensing as he presses a hot kiss against it. “When I was a kid.”

  It’s not a lie, exactly—I did have surgeries when I was a kid—but it’s nowhere near the truth, either, and I hold myself stiff and tight against him as I wait for him to either ask for a more detailed explanation or to move on.

  Ash must feel the tension and the uncertainty—God knows, I can’t hide it, not about this—because Ash kisses me there a couple more times, as if to tell me it doesn’t matter to him, before moving on.

  His hands go to my jeans, his fingers unzipping, then delving beneath the waist to stroke over my abdomen, my lower back, my ass. I gasp as his hands cup my ass, his fingers sliding lower and lower until they’re pressed against my sex from behind.

  The feel of his finger, right there—pressing against me—makes me jump even as it sends a host of new and exciting and terrifying feelings coursing through me. Ash sits up, soothing me with murmured reassurances and soft kisses to my neck and chest and shoulders.

  “Can we get rid of these?” he asks softly, his mouth pressed to the sensitive spot beneath my ear that he discovered earlier. His hands tug at my jeans.

  This is it, the moment of truth. I know it, and for a second—just a second—I hesitate. Not because I don’t want Ash. Not because I don’t want this. But because everything is changing so fast, everything about my life—about me—is so different now than it was two months ago. It’s better, infinitely better, but it’s different, too, and it takes a little getting used to. If someone had told me two months ago that I’d be here, sitting on top of the gorgeous and talented Ash Lewis as he made love to me, I would have laughed in their face. Probably asked for some of whatever they were smoking.

  And yet, here I am. Here he is. It feels strange. Good and powerful and as necessary as breathing. But still strange.

  Ash must sense my hesitation because he slides his hands back up my spine, then wraps his arms around me and just holds me, his mouth pressed hotly against my shoulder. “You okay, Tansy?” he asks after a second. “Do you want to stop?”

  “No!” I all but shout the word, my hands cupping his face as I drag his mouth back to mine.

  He tastes amazing, like spearmint gum and pine trees and sweet, pure snow. He groans against my lips, and I take advantage, thrusting my tongue into his mouth. He explored me earlier, kissing me until my body was on fire and my brain felt like it was going to leak out my ears.

  I want to do the same to him, want to take him apart so thoroughly that he’s as needy, as desperate, as I am. But I’ve barely licked my way into his mouth when he’s pulling away.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, terrified that I’ve done something wrong. Terrified that he’ll stop.

  “Nothing. God, nothing, Tansy,” he gasps out as he pulls a series of shaky and shallow breaths into his lungs. His chest is heaving and the arm he brings up to rest against his forehead is shaking just a little. “I just can’t believe how hot you get me. I need a second or I’m going to lose it.”

  Relief courses through me, along with need and joy and something else—something that feels an awful lot like triumph. I did this. I turned him on so much that he’s worried about coming in his jeans. Me, with all my scars and inexperience and insecurities. I did this to Ash.

  Along with the relief comes the knowledge that I want him to lose it. I want to drive him straight to the edge and then throw him over, like he did to me last night. The pleasure he gave me—the utter, mind-numbing ecstasy of it—is not something I’m ever likely to forget. I want to share it with him, want to make him as crazy as he makes me.

  I shimmy down his body then, unbuttoning his jeans and tugging at them until he gets the hint and lifts his hips. I yank them, and his red—yay!—boxers off, leave them crumpled in a heap on the floor. And then I stare at him, just stare at him. How can I not when he’s the most beautiful—and, if I’m being honest, the most intimidating—thing I’ve ever seen?

  But Ash doesn’t give me time to freak out, doesn’t let me wonder for more than a second how on earth something that big is supposed to fit inside of me. Instead, he yanks down my own jeans, tosses them aside. And then he’s lifting me effortlessly, pulling me up until I’m straddling his face, my knees on either side of his head.

  “What are you doing?” I squeak, reaching out to brace myself on the headboard. I’m horrified and fascinated and aroused all at the same time, and I squirm against his hands, not sure if I’m trying to get away or if I’m trying to get closer.

  Ash smacks a hand against my ass, and though he does it softly, the feel of it rips through me, just as the sound rips through the silence of the room. “I’ve got you,” he mutters, his breath hot against my sex. “Let me take care of you.”

  And then he’s there, licking through my folds, toying with my clit, eating me out in a way that is nothing—and everything—like what he did to me last night. The feelings coursing through me are the same, the pleasure and the desperation and the all-consuming need to keep him right here, against me, forever. But it’s different, too, spread out above him like this, his tongue delving deep inside me and setting me on fire from the inside out. It’s hot and sexy and intimate, so unbearably intimate, that I have to turn my head. Have to hide my face against my arm even as he slams me over the edge of an orgasm so intense I can barely think, barely breathe.

  But Ash reaches up even as I’m coming, presses hot fingers against my chin. I follow his request blindly, turning my head until my eyes connect with his. I’m so drunk on pleasure that it’s hard to focus, but at the same time, I can’t look away. Not with his eyes so clear and hot and commanding on my own.

  Then he’s rolling again, tucking me beneath his body as he brings his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his mouth and it’s strange and sexy at the same time. I thrust my hands through his hair when he would have pulled back, hold his mouth to mine in a kiss so deep that I don’t think I have any secrets left.

  When he finally pulls away, when I finally let him go, Ash is nearly panting with need. I can feel him against me, hot and huge and hard—so hard—and for a second, panic sneaks through the pleasure still zinging inside of me.

  Somehow, he senses it again, and he leans down for another kiss. “Are you sure this is okay?” he whispers against my lips. “We can still stop.”

  I can’t imagine what it costs him to make that offer when he’s so obviously aroused. When he’s already gotten me off. “I don’t want to stop,” I tell him softly, skimming my lips over his perfect jaw. “I want you inside me.”

  He groans then, shifts away.

  I panic, clutch at him, but he just drops soft kisses on my hands as he reaches for his jeans. I’m confused, until I see him open his wallet, pull out a condom. Then I feel like an idiot. How could I possibly have forgotten? How could I have been so far gone that I’d forgotten the most basic rule?

  Ash doesn’t give me much time to be embarrassed, though. He rips the condom open, slides it on under my fascinated gaze. And then he’s back, leaning over me, his arms braced on either side of my head.

  “I can still stop,” he tells me softly, between kisses.

  “Don’t you dare.” I tangle my legs with his, arch into his touch.

  I feel him then, hot and hard and heavy against me. For a second, just a second, panic spurts through me, but then he’s petting me, his finger circling my clit and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me even as he slides slowly, inexorably, inside of me.

  Oh wow. Ohwow. Oh—

  It hurts more than I thought it would, but it feels good, too, and I don’t know whether to squirm away or to push closer. It’s a decision that’s taken out of my hands, though, when Ash smooths his free hand through my hair. He presses soft kisses to my cheeks, to my mouth, murmurs all kinds of nonsense words and sounds that ma
ke no sense except that they comfort me. And arouse me all over again. I don’t know how he knows to do the things he does, don’t know why he’s so sweet, so tender, with me. I’m just grateful that he is, grateful that I picked him to be my first.

  Eventually, the pain fades and I’m left with an impossible sense of fullness—and a desperate need to move. Ash is so attuned to me, is paying such close attention, that I know he feels the shift. Within seconds, he’s kissing me again, harder, deeper, licking inside my mouth. When my tongue tangles with his and my arms tighten around his neck, he finally starts to move. Slowly, carefully, gently, he rocks against me.

  I’ve never felt anything like the pleasure he gives me then, never imagined it was even possible to feel so much. He moves so, so carefully at first, slow, gentle thrusts that slide him in and out of me in a soft, sweet rhythm that helps me relax even as it ratchets up the spiraling tension inside of me.

  I clutch at Ash then, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my hips arching up to meet his. He groans, his thrusts getting faster, harder, more powerful, until all I can do is feel. Him above me, around me, inside me.

  In those frantic moments, Ash is everywhere. He’s everything. And I love it. I love the way he holds me, love the way he touches me, love even more the way I’m melting into him. The way we’re melting into each other. It’s like nothing I could have imagined, and more than I ever would have asked for.

  And then it happens.

  The pleasure—unbelievable, indescribable—breaks over me in a rush I’m not expecting and could never have prepared for. I gasp, whimper, nearly scream with the unexpectedness of it. My head falls back and I close my eyes, but Ash growls my name.

  “Look at me, Tansy. I want to see.”

  I force my eyes open even as the climax rolls over me, find myself drowning in Ash’s cerulean ones. It’s the most intense moment of my life and I can barely breathe, barely think. All I can do is lose myself in him.

  “There you are,” he murmurs. “I thought I lost you.”

  “Never.” The word comes out before I can stop it, before I even know I am going to say it. It comes from some visceral place deep inside me that wants nothing more than for me to wrap myself around Ash and never let him go.

  I expect him to freak out at the permanent sound of the word, but he just grins wickedly, like I’ve somehow made him happy. And then he’s kissing me, slipping his hands under my hips. Thrusting harder.

  I do cry out then, as a whole new wave of pleasure rips through me. Ash’s whole body locks up, his arms tightening around me to the point of near pain and that’s when I feel it. His body jerking inside of mine, pouring into me.

  I wrap my legs around him, pull him tighter, hold him closer. And lose myself in the overwhelming, all-encompassing pleasure that is Ash Lewis.

  Chapter 19

  Ash

  Holy shit. Making love to Tansy damn near killed me.

  I’m lying on top of her now, after the most intense orgasm of my life, and I swear I can’t move. I know I should—hell, she’s so tiny that I’m probably crushing her completely. But even knowing that, I can’t bring myself to shift off of her.

  It doesn’t help that she’s twined around me like a vine, her arms and legs and body holding mine everywhere and in every way that she can.

  Normally, I’d be freaking out right about now, trying to extricate myself from the situation. But it feels so good to lay here, holding Tansy, listening to her heart beat, hearing her breathing even out, that trying to escape seems like way too much effort. Especially since there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now.

  The thought makes me nervous, but not enough for me to actually do something about it. After all, I just took Tansy’s virginity. She probably needs to be held. She certainly deserves to be.

  But she also deserves to breathe, which is why I—reluctantly—pull out of her.

  She makes a wordless protest that warms me deep inside, her hands clutching at me to hold me close. I murmur to her, sweet nothings that don’t mean anything except reassurance, as I tie off the condom and wrap it in a tissue I found on the nightstand. Then I settle next to her in bed again, pulling her right into the crook of my arm, so I can pet her all over.

  She feels so good against me, soft and silky and sweet, and there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to roll her over on top of me and try for round two. But she’s got to be sore—I wasn’t nearly as careful with her as I intended to be—and the last thing I want to do is hurt her.

  “Ash?” she asks after several long minutes have passed. “Are you awake?”

  “Yeah. You okay?” I drop a kiss on the top of her head.

  She laughs, actually laughs. “Are you kidding me? I’m amazing. That was … amazing. Right? I mean, I’m not just imagining it, right? That was really, really—”

  “Amazing,” I say before she can. Because she’s right, it was. I don’t know what it means, don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the knowledge—and the feelings welling up inside of me—but I do know that making love to Tansy was as exciting, as amazing, as dropping in on the most dangerous double black diamond trail there is.

  “You sweet-talker you,” she says with a grin. And then she’s up on her elbow, leaning over me. Kissing me sweetly. Kissing me senseless.

  I groan in protest when she breaks away for air a couple of minutes later, but she just laughs. Then rains small, quick kisses all over my face and chest and shoulders. I probably shouldn’t be as amused as I am, but I can’t help it. A relaxed, happy and well-fucked Tansy is the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen.

  “So you’re one of those,” I tell her with a groan, grabbing her and pulling her back down next to me.

  “One of what?” she asks me, eyes wide and concerned.

  “One of those people who actually get energy from sex. You’re practically jumping out of your skin you’re so wound up.”

  “Oh, yeah. I kind of am.” She blushes a little. “Is that not normal?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Oh.” Silence for a second, then, “Do you want me to turn the lights off for you? I can settle down and we can—”

  I laugh. “Baby, there is no way you’re settling down anytime soon.” I pull her in for a quick kiss that turns into something much longer and hotter than I intended. “But that’s okay.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. Because I’m the same way.”

  Before she can react to my words, I roll her over and tickle her mercilessly. She screams and kicks and fights, but she’s laughing the whole time and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. I’m hard again before I even kiss her, but I force myself to back away. Only a total jerk would be trying for round two right now. Especially after seeing the blood smeared on the condom.

  “Come on,” I tell her, climbing out of bed and pulling her with me.

  “Come on, where? I’m naked, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’ve noticed.” I cup her boob in my hand, tweak her nipple. She gasps, grabs on to my hand with both of hers. And then we’re just standing there, staring into each other’s eyes with big, goofy smiles on our faces.

  Alarm bells start going off in the back of my head. Because this doesn’t feel like just sex. It doesn’t even feel like just fun, though it’s definitely fun. It feels like something more. Something intimate and sweet and just a little bit terrifying.

  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that. Don’t know what I’m supposed to do with her. Not when there’s Logan and everything that I have to do for him. I don’t have time for a relationship, even if I did want one. Which I totally don’t. But how am I supposed to tell her that without hurting her?

  “Uh-oh,” Tansy says after a long, breathless moment when all we do is stare at each other. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

  My stomach clenches sickly. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re falling in love with me. I can see it al
l over your face.”

  “What?” I’m so startled that the word comes out half-gasp, half-laugh.

  She drops a kiss on my shoulder, shoots me a quick grin, before walking past me into the bathroom. “Don’t worry about it,” she tells me airily. “It happens to all the guys. I won’t hold it against you.”

  Amused despite myself, I follow her into the bathroom. “You won’t, huh? That’s awfully nice of you.”

  “What can I say? I’m a nice person.” She glances in the mirror, laughs when she sees the state of her hair. It’s sticking up all over her head. Another girl would have freaked out, started trying to fix the mess. But Tansy just meets my gaze in the mirror, her eyes alight with amusement.

  “It’s a good look for you,” I tell her, tugging on one of the short clumps.

  “You’re only saying that ’cuz you’re blinded by lust,” she tells me. “Not that I blame you. That was pretty amazing.”

  “It was,” I agree. “But—” I need to make sure she understands, need to make sure she’s not building any kind of dreams around what happened here. Because there’s Logan and I—

  “Oh, no.” She whirls around, presses two fingers to my mouth in an effort to shut me up. “Don’t beg. It’s so unbecoming.”

  I pull her hand away. “I wasn’t going to—”

  “Sure you were. They all do.” She winks at me, just to let me know she’s joking. “But I’m just in it for the fun, so you’re going to have to get over all those butterflies in your stomach.”

  I laugh then, because I can’t not laugh. She’s adorable, absolutely adorable. And she handled what could have been really awkward—really awful—so charmingly that I can’t help pulling her into my arms and kissing her again. “I think you’ve got your stomach confused with mine.”

  She snorts, presses against my abs. “As if. I don’t think there’s any chance of anyone ever mistaking my stomach for your six-pack. But it’s a nice thought.”