by L. M. Reid
In the end, I walked away with a thank you and a sense of accomplishment. She was happy and her confidence seemed to be back – at least when it came to her husband. She was a tiger in court, not letting him get anything by her. I chuckle to myself recalling her walking in on the final day with her new boy toy, one even younger than myself.
Needless to say, Mrs. Barrington is still wealthy and her husband is still paying for his mistake.
“What can I say,” I laugh. “I have a big heart.”
“Was she… good?”
I kick back the rest of my drink. “You know, there’s something about a woman trying to prove something. She was good – damn good even.”
24
Ashlynn
The amazing, carefree days Grayson and I spent together ended in me rejecting him and his offer to back out of the running for partner. He was willing to give it all up for me, for us. I on the other hand, wasn’t. Something that I instantly regretted the moment that he walked out of my office, hurt etched on his face.
I tried to reach out to him, each call being sent directly to voicemail, every text ignored. I even went to his home, pounded on the door, but nothing. In that one moment when my fear and distrust persevered, I may have lost Grayson. Had I only opened up to him and told him the truth. A truth that could not only destroy me, it could turn Grayson against me as well.
Now, here I am, lying in bed, tears stinging my eyes and threatening to fall. I don’t know what to do, how to get out of this. I’m not even sure if I can trust the man that I’m falling in love with.
At that very moment, with that thought in my mind, my phone pings. I close my eyes trying to fight back the tears knowing there is only one person who would be texting me at this hour.
Grayson.
Grayson: I’m not ignoring you. I just need some time to think.
I want to be angry with him for walking out, for not responding sooner, for not being here right now, but I’m not. I’m sad and I miss him and I just want to talk to him.
Me: Think about what?
Grayson: Me. You. Us. All of it.
Me: What about us?
There is an instant pang in my chest. Fear settling in that maybe he changed his mind about us.
Me: What about us? Are we okay?
What the hell am I doing?
Grayson: Why are you with him Ashlynn? You need to tell me.
Me: You know why.
Grayson: There’s more to it. Tell me, sweetheart. I can’t protect you if I don’t know.
I panic at his words; afraid he already knows more than he’s letting on.
I put the phone down, ignoring the alert that comes, and then again before just shutting the damn thing off. I sink into the covers, bury my face, and cry. I want the past to go away. I want to be happy. I just don’t have a clue how to do any of it.
Would Grayson even want me if he knew about my past? From what I’ve read Reagan was the epitome of perfection – not a damn bit of dirt on the woman anywhere. She damn near qualifies for sainthood. And if that’s the kind of woman Grayson is attracted to, what would he say about me, the stripper? The woman who…
Another wave of tears run down my cheek thinking about the ending of that sentence… -the woman who has had sex for money.
25
Ashlynn
I try to focus on the emails that Grayson sent, all the work he did the past few days despite him being out of town to “get his shit together.” Or, at least, that’s the line he keeps feeding me.
Frankly, I don’t have a damn clue where he is or what he’s doing. I sure as hell don’t have a right to ask, or to be angry, but I want to do both.
His question: why are you with him? His statement: I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me.
I instantly knew that he knows more than he is letting one. But why? How? What the hell will he do with the information if he has it?
I tap my pencil on the desk, the notes I am supposed to be looking over the furthest thing from my mind.
Think Ashlynn.
“Becky said you were looking for me,” a voice says from my doorway.
I look up and see Grayson standing there. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest.
“I was, I am.” Shit. Why the hell is my pulse racing? I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. “Come in.” But he already is. His hands in his pockets, slowly making his way toward me. “Sorry, I mean sit. Have a seat. Ugh. Never mind.”
He lets out a light chuckle. “You seem a little flustered.”
“I… I am.”
“Why’s that?”
The sight of him alone is enough to fluster me. Him being here, the way he looks at me. How I feel about him. It all factors in. Any thoughts not related to him and me are gone. This, right here, is all that matters. I stand from my desk and meet him halfway. Glancing past him to the door and take notice that he turned the lock. Smart man. The minute I see we're safe, my hands are on his waist.
“Because I missed the hell out of you, Grayson West.”
His hands cup my cheeks. “Good answer, Sweetheart.”
His lips crash onto mine. His body moves into mine. We move together toward my desk until my ass hits the elegant wood.
“I need you,” I plead with him.
My hands reach for his belt, pulling it, then loosening it before I begin to work on the button and zipper.
“Ashlynn.”
There is so much behind my name. I can hear it in the way he says it. But I don’t care about any of that right now. I need to connect with him, even if it’s only in a physical way. I need him, more than I need my next breath.
“Shhhh. No talking. Just… show me.”
I take hold of him, his strong, long dick in my hand, stroking him. Feeling him beneath my hand sends a shiver through my body. Anticipation courses through my veins and my need for him skyrockets. He can’t be in me fast enough. I lean back on my desk, my elbows holding me up so I can watch him.
His eyes are hooded with desire, and while I can see the concern that’s etched on his face, whatever he needed to sort out clearly getting to him, he looks pleased to see me. He hikes up my skirt and tugs my panties down, discarding them to the floor.
“Christ, Sweetheart, I missed you,” he groans. He runs the head of his cock along my wet slit.
“Please, Gray.”
I don’t need, I sure as hell don’t beg. But, when it comes to Grayson West, I am more than willing to do both. In fact, I’m fairly certain I don’t have a choice. My body, heart, and soul have already decided that for me.
He slides into me and my head falls back. Somehow my body and soul left my office and transported directly to heaven.
“Look at me, Sweetheart.”
I lift my head, my eyes locking with his as I worry my lip between my teeth.
He moves slowly in, excruciatingly slow out. The intensity in his eyes has the intensity between my thighs intensifying.
“Oh, Gray,” I pant out. I’m breathless.
His touch brings me to life, makes me feel things I have never experienced before. Every touch, every kiss, he brands me as his and I surrender to him. Not because I’m powerless, not because I have to, but because I want to. I want to be his. I want him to own me, make me his and make me always feel like I do in this instant.
“I hate you, you know that,” he tells me. His head rests against my shoulder as he pushes into me. “You’ve fucked with my head and my heart, Sweetheart. And, I can’t get you out of either.”
I moan, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” Another groan. “I love you, Ashlynn.” Before I can argue, or hesitate, or shove him off of me and run, he continues. “I know it’s crazy.” He pulls out, then slams back into me. “But I do, Sweetheart. I love you.”
My lips find his, words escaping me, and I tell him how I feel the only way I know how – with my body. I kiss him, every ounce of emotion in that kiss. I move my body against him, grin
ding with him deep in me, every moan solidifying how much I need him.
“I…”
I want to say the words, I want to tell him, but my fear has rendered me speechless, my throat unable to produce anything but moans and pants.
Desperate for him, I find my release quickly. It’s impossible not to when he knows exactly what I like, what I need without me even telling him.
“Take what you need from me Gray, I’m yours.”
He pounds into me, quick forceful motions that have me gasping. I tighten around him again, milking his orgasm from him. “Fuck,” he cries out softly into my hair.
He lifts his head and looks at me, a lopsided smile on his face. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks.
I tap my finger on my chin. “You could do that, again,” I say.
He pulls out of me, making haste of pulling his boxers back up. “Oh, believe me. I have every intention of doing just that.” He zips up his pants. “But first, we need to talk.”
Still in a sated stupor, I have a hard time grasping his words. “That doesn’t sound good.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t sound bad either.”
I fix my skirt and reach for my panties, but Grayson has them in hand before I can. I extend my hand to him.
“You want them?” he asks.
“They are mine.”
“And you said, you are mine.” He raises his eyebrows challenging me to argue with him.
I did tell him I was his and the way I just bent to his will, willing to give him anything and everything, only made my words all that much more true.
“You said you hate me.”
“Then I told you…” I press my lips against his, stopping him from saying the words I am afraid to hear and even more afraid to say back.
“I… I hate you too.”
He scrubs his chin and laughs. “I’ll take it.”
“So, that conversation you wanted to have…”
Our lips still dangerously close he replies, “Later? Your place?”
I nod, our lips coming together again as I do.
The rush is gone. The kisses are slow and exploratory regardless of the fact that we already know each other so well in this respect. I can feel the questions behind it though, the pleas for me to open up.
I hold onto him, tight and close. I want to Grayson. I want to open up to you. I just don’t know if I can trust you.
26
Grayson
I can’t remember the last time I kissed a woman this much. Her lips are slow and seductive against mine. It’s sweet and tender and I am trying my damnedest to tell her and show her and make her understand how I feel. Somewhere in the mix of things, I’m trying to get her to trust me, to tell me her secrets when I know that she is so guarded she’s never let anyone in before. Not really, at least. Not even Logan.
She pulls back and I’m instantly dying to be near her again.
“Where were you?” she asks as she straightens herself out in the mirror.
“I went home. I just needed to sort through some things.”
“Like us?”
I hate that I do it, but I nod. I’m still trying to figure out how to approach her. How the hell do I get a woman that is so damn guarded to open up to me? I’ve done everything I can think of to prove myself to her.
Maybe that’s not the exact truth. I could tell her why I’m here, what I’m doing, but at this point? I’m actually afraid it would put her in more danger than it would do good.
I’ve never had to prove myself like this before, not to anyone except my father and fuck if even the days away helped me come up with a solution.
“Grayson?” Her soft voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Hmmm?”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason why?”
Her question confuses me. What other reason would there be? Unless…
“Are you… jealous?” I tease. And it may be a joke, but hell if it doesn’t make my heart skip a beat or two.
“What? No, I… I just…” The normally collected woman is anything but. She’s been caught in a fit of jealousy and I am ecstatic about it.
“I assure you, the friend I met with is not my type.” I string her along not mentioning that my friend is a male, or that his name is Hal. And I sure as hell don’t mention the other reason I went back – to visit my mother. No, let her mind wander, let her think about it.
Maybe it will prove a point, help her see that she cares about me as much as I do her.
“Gray? Are we okay?” she asks. The fear in her voice tells me exactly what I need to know. It solidifies for me that she does care; she wants us as badly as I do. If she didn’t none of this would matter.
”Yes, Sweetheart, we are fine. I met with Hal, my partner. I just wanted to touch base with him, make sure everything was going okay and clear my head. That’s it, I swear.”
“So, no…”
“No what?” I encourage the question.
“Reagan. Did you see Reagan while you were gone?”
What the hell? That came out of left field. And as astonished as I am by her asking, I kind of like it too. “Why would you think that?”
She begins to pace around the office nervously. “I just… you said…” She emits this growl of frustration that on anyone else would sound childish, but on her? Fuck me, it makes my dick twitch. “You said you were trying to figure us out and I thought maybe that meant you needed to, I don’t know, tie up loose ends with Reagan or whoever.”
“Whoever? Is there someone else that I am unaware of?”
The amusement has returned. Damn if she doesn’t look cute as hell right now.
“I don’t know,” she says throwing her hands in the air. “You know quite a bit about me, but I don’t know a damn thing about you.”
Now that? That right there is downright comical. I laugh – a lot. “I know a lot about you? Like what? Sorry, Sweetheart, you’re going to have to do better than that because neither of us have really been forthcoming with information.”
“You’re right. Just another reason that we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Another reason?” What in God’s name is she talking about? I wasn’t aware that there was a first reason, let alone another one. “Did I miss the first one?”
“Your father,” she says in a hushed tone, though I don’t know why considering the vast number of pleasured moans that escaped her only moments ago.
“We’re getting off track here,” I say.
“Are we really, though?”
My hands are on her arms, trying to calm her down. I run my hands up and down, her soft skin beneath my fingers. “I didn’t see Reagan. Or any other female for that matter, except my mother.”
Her voice softens, the hysteria diminishing. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”
I shake my head. “She’s fine. I just wanted to see her.” I look away from her unable to say what I plan on saying next while looking at her. “And to tell her about you.”
A smile creeps onto her face. “You told her about me?”
I shrug. “It’s not like she’s going to tell anyone. She doesn’t speak and she probably…”
“Grayson,” she scolds cutting me off. “It’s not that. I just think it’s sweet that you wanted to tell her about me.”
“I meant it when I said that I love you, Ashlynn.”
She moves away from me. Standing at the window, looking out onto the world beneath us she says, “How do you know?”
I recall her words about her mother’s alcoholism, and the fact that Ashlynn was essentially responsible for raising herself. She doesn’t know what real love is, she doesn’t know how it feels. She’s never allowed herself to feel it, to embrace it.
“I just do,” I reply. It’s a simple answer, not the one that she was looking for I’m sure. Still, it’s the truth. There’s no miracle equation, no specific moment, not one single parameter that told me I love her. I just knew.
“I don’t
,” she admits. “I don’t understand what I’m feeling. Hell, I’m afraid to feel it. It’s all so foreign to me.”
“Not even with Logan?” I pry. She had asked the same of me with Reagan, and while I’m using the line as a way to comfort her, to let her know I understand, I am dying to know the answer to that question.
She has Logan Miller on a pedestal; one that I was afraid I may not be able to reach.
She turns and faces me, her hand caressing my cheek. “Nowhere near.”
Now, more than anything, I want to whisk her away, take her somewhere private and secluded and just learn every damn thing about her. I want to be her safe place. I want her to know that these feelings she has – they’re real. I need to convince her that her heart is safe with me.
I take her hand in mine and kiss her palm. “Talk to me, Sweetheart.”
“I’m scared, Gray. I’m scared of how I feel about you, I’m scared of what you’re…” She shakes her head and tries to pull away. I don’t let her though. This is too important.
“Tell me.”
“I’m scared of what Elliott could do to me.”
“What does he have on you, Sweetheart? Whatever it is, I can help.”
“Or,” she sighs. “You could use it against me. Or hate me for it. I’m sorry Gray, I just – I don’t know how much I can trust you. You’re here for a reason that I don’t know and that worries me. Anything I tell you – you could use it against me.”
“Ashlynn, I don’t give a damn about the job. I give a damn about you. But, unless you talk to me, I can’t make this go away.”
“I want to believe you, Gray, I do.”
I know she has trust issues, the slight insight she gave me into her childhood, making it all that more understandable. But fuck. How am I supposed to overcome that without her giving me a damn chance too?
“You don’t know what I’ve went through to get where I am.”
“Then tell me, Sweetheart. Tell me what you went through, open up to me.”
The knock on the door startles us.
“Ashlynn? Are you in there?”
The voice is familiar. Initially I mistake it for my father, but the softer tone makes me rethink my initial thought. Brayden.
