“Of course. And if your maternal instincts flare up for even a moment, we can march right back in there.”
I chuckled at his phrasing, nodding my agreement. “Would you want to go back down to the beach?” I offered. “We never did get to see it in full moonlight. And—though I miss him already—it might be nice to relax some without Levi around.”
Ashton gave me a nervous smile, as if he were afraid to agree with the sentiment.
“Aw, come on,” I urged, giving him a small nudge on the shoulder, “you’re allowed to second that.”
He relented. “Okay, okay, fine, yeah. It might be more relaxing minus the baby.”
“There you go; you’re getting the hang of this whole ‘bad parent’ thing.”
“You’re not a bad parent,” he disagreed. “Everybody gets worn down. Raising a kid is tough.”
“If you even knew…” I began, then the words dissipated in the air. “But, anyway, the beach.”
He nodded, and we began walking towards the water. As we picked our way down the paths, Ashton slipped an arm around my lower back. My shirt rode up, and his bare skin touched my own. The feeling sent shivers through my spine, and I think Ashton sensed as much, because he squeezed me even closer to him. It was breathtakingly perfect, being surrounded by his strong forearms.
Soon enough, we’d arrived back on the beach, albeit a different section; instead of going to the left, towards what I now thought of as “our” private beach, we went to the right, towards the long stretch of sand that went well beyond the lounge chairs, and into the darkness. Tiki torches cast their light off of reflective palm fronds, so it wasn’t pitch black, more like a dim haze of nighttime.
We shuffled our feet in the sand, allowing the noise of the ocean to act as our conversation. Perhaps the only thing more relaxing than talking openly with a person you trusted was not talking at all. Comfortable silence, in this day and age, was hard to come by.
I shot a sidelong glance in Ashton’s direction, and saw with dismay that he looked…sad. Yes, that was the word for it. Not upset, exactly, just not happy. As if we hadn’t just had the most perfect day.
I bit my lip, unsure if this was the right time to ask what was wrong. But I remembered my earlier conversation with Ashton, about Hamlet, and how one is known versus how one wishes to be known; he had been open with me, not out of necessity, but because he liked the feeling.
With that thought, I at last gave in to the question.
Nervous and unsure of myself, I said, “Ashton, are you okay?”
He stopped in his tracks. “What? Yes, of course.”
Not the response I’d anticipated. “I meant…only, you look sad.”
His expression walled off, and he responded more coolly than before, “Perhaps that’s just my face.”
Yikes. This wasn’t what I’d been going for.
“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” I reassured. “For one, I think your face is beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” He smirked, and I understood that he wasn’t upset about the rude phrasing of my question.
“Yeah. Beautiful. You heard me.” I paused, and tried again. “What I’m saying is…you look sad, even though we’ve just had what I thought to be the most wonderful day together, and I’m wondering if it has anything to do with your family.”
His eyes turned from mine, and he stared off into the distance. “You’re rather frank.”
“I know.”
“What made you ask that?”
I hesitated, then replied, “You seemed cautious to talk about it at our first dinner together, and I thought maybe spending all day with Levi and me raised some of those feelings for you. About family, that is.”
His brown, thick lashes hovered low over his eyes, and I worried that I’d struck too close to home. Was this the bridge he was unwilling to cross for me?
After what felt like an interminable silence, he finally replied, “Perceptive as always, Harley.”
I rushed to add, “If you don’t want to talk about it, of course, there’s no pressure; I’m just trying to—”
Mercifully, he cut me off. “I can talk about it.”
I started, surprised. Even when I’d raised the topic, I’d assumed there was little chance of him actually giving me a straightforward answer. And yet, here he was, Ashton Swann, ready to open up. I reminded myself for what felt like the millionth time that day to not judge a book by its cover.
“How much do you know about me?” he began.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m in the media. I have a public persona. There have been numerous articles on my childhood and upbringing, though of course, the answers I give to journalists are nowhere close to the truth.”
Understanding, I replied, “I know you’re from Texas. That’s about it.”
I’d done my research on the company before going to work for Swann Innovations, but it’d never occurred to me to dig into Ashton’s background. It had felt, at the time, like it would’ve been a violation, or creepy—like becoming obsessed with a celebrity without ever having met them.
Ashton nodded and said, “Well, then you’ve heard the only accurate part of the story.” He looked out towards the ocean, then as we walked, began to tell me his story.
“I did grow up in Texas, in a small town built around oil. As far as the eye could see, it was all oil rigs and the occasional farm. The weather didn’t allow for much variety of produce, so it was mostly cattle, and a couple of horse pastures. There was one school, one mini-mall, and on Sundays after church, the entire town flooded into Mama Hoosit’s for brunch.
“Only a few thousand people lived in town, at most, and once you were deemed an outsider, you stayed an outsider. My parents had moved there from New York for my dad’s business, just before I was born. Nobody ever considered us to be real town folk, and they were right. We’d come from the big city; we didn’t look like them, or talk like them—at least, my parents didn’t. Whereas the entire area was middle class at best, we were obscenely wealthy. It was a good time to be in the oil industry, and my dad was ruthless in the way he ran his company.”
He paused, and then added, “I was ten when my mother died.”
I drew in a breath at his words. Ashton looked up from the sand, his eyes finding mine.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “It’s been almost twenty years; it doesn’t sting so much anymore. But my mother was my world, my sanctuary. She had the sunniest smile you’ve ever seen.”
He seemed to recede into his thoughts, his face veiled with memories.
After a moment, he shook his head and continued. “Cancer took her away.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Thank you, but…I’m all right. She was a strong, powerful woman, and she would’ve hated to be remembered for the cancer, you know? I know, in my heart, she wants me to remember her as being the loving mom who was a great cook, or the one who always spoke up at PTA meetings, or the woman who didn’t take any crap from anyone. I try to hold onto that image of her in my mind. But…she passed away, leaving me under the exclusive care of my father, Howard.”
Ashton paused and looked at me expectantly.
I examined his face, searching for a hint of what he was trying to clue me into. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“My father, also known as Howard J. Swann III.”
The pieces clicked into place. “The oil baron?”
Ashton nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. The one and only.”
“Wow.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“I guess. Living under the watch of one of the most famous tycoons in U.S. history isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We were wealthy before my mother died—or, um, very rich by normal standards—but after she passed…well, my father buried himself in his work.
“As an adult, I can say that if he hadn’t done that, he may have just buried himself in a grave alongside my mother. He was deeply depressed, and h
ad no friends or family to support him in the grieving process. I think he believed I was too young to totally get what was going on, or maybe he was afraid of opening up to me and appearing weak.
“Either way, it took me a long time to see it like that. Took a lot of empathy, and growing up. As a kid, I followed my father’s example—or what little I saw of it, since he was hardly ever around. I threw myself into my work even more devotedly than I do nowadays.”
I drew my head back, shocked by this assertion. Ashton clocked the move and nodded.
“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he said. “If you think I’m putting in overtime now…well, just try and imagine how hard I was working as a kid, trying to get over my mother’s death and earn back the love of my absent father. Because that’s what I figured: if I could just stay up an extra hour and get ahead on one more assignment, he’d love me. But it never happened. He could never show me affection.
“I hated my father for his coldness, and if I’m being honest, a part of me still hasn’t forgiven him. Especially since he made me in his image. Now, that’s what the entire city—no, the entire world—thinks of me. They perceive me as a ruthless businessman who cares about his company and nothing else. I hated my father, and then I became him.”
I sucked in a breath, hoping the air would hold back my tears. Ashton lowered his head towards the ground, and continued, “And I’m scared that if I have children, I’ll repeat the same mistakes my father made—I won’t be home enough, I won’t love them openly enough, I won’t be good enough. Nobody ever taught me how to love another person, and I’m terrified that it may be too late.”
He broke off, and I could see his shoulders rise and fall unsteadily. I put a gentle hand out, hoping to steady them.
“Ashton,” I said softly, “you’re not your father.”
He raised his head, and those brown eyes met mine. I could tell he didn’t believe me, so I pressed forward.
“You’re not,” I insisted. “I can see it. I can see it in the little things you do for me, and the way you take care of Levi, and how concerned you are that everybody hates you. A man who was truly incapable of love wouldn’t do or think any of that. But you’ve shown me enough of who you really are that I can say, with confidence, you are warm and kind and loving.”
It was my turn to draw to a halt. I took a deep breath, and plowed on.
“When we were on the beach today,” I continued, “and you were playing with Levi, and being so tender with him, I thought to myself, ‘Wow, Ashton would make an incredible father.’”
“Really?” he whispered.
“Really.”
Ashton’s eyes ran over my face; then, he leaned in and kissed me.
Chapter 14
Harley
He gently bit my lip as I plunged my tongue into his mouth. We did an intricate dance—our bodies moving effortlessly in sync, heads tilting, noses brushing. We had the unspoken coordination of soulmates.
Ashton’s hands found the small of my back and I could feel each individual finger press into me, as if he were playing an instrument. My breath quickened, and I pulled him in closer, hungry for his touch.
Between caresses, I dipped my face away, and he put his hand under my chin, turning my head in his direction.
“What is it?” he asked in a low voice. “Do you want to stop?”
“No, nothing like that.” I paused, and felt my cheeks turn crimson red. “It’s just, we’re, um, in public.”
I didn’t need to explain; we could both feel that if our make-out went any further, we’d soon be getting naked on the very public beach.
“Then we’d better move quickly,” he said, and before I knew it, he’d grasped my hand and was tugging me up the beach, away from the water’s edge and towards our hotel suite.
We broke into a run, our legs pumping with desire and need. Soon, our feet were no longer on sand, but on hardwood floor, and we were skidding and sliding through the lobby.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Swann,” a staff member called out.
I didn’t have time to consider the implications of her words. Rather, Ashton and I were too busy trying to slow our breakneck speed down to a relatively normal jog. After all, as the voice had reminded us, we were in public. We strode hastily, hands intertwined, towards our hotel room. Despite being a relatively close destination, there seemed to be no end of corners and turns.
“Stupid hallways,” I panted under my breath.
Ashton grinned and looked around, scanning the halls with the keen eye of a trained assassin. At last, he hissed, “All right, screw it, there’s no one around.”
With that, he yanked my hand once more, and we were running. Left, right, right, left again, and bam—we were in front of the door.
Ashton fumbled in his pocket for the key, but I needed his touch: his hands, his arms, his lips.
“Kiss me,” I instructed, arching my back against the door and looping my fingers in the waistband of his trousers.
He obeyed, and I distantly heard the brass key fall to the ground as Ashton pinned my hands to the entryway. His lips met mine, but only for a moment; he pulled away much too soon for my liking.
“Why?” I pleaded.
With a smirk, he replied, “We’re almost inside.”
I fumbled for his briefs, saying, “But I can’t wait any longer.”
In one smooth motion, he turned me around by the waist, pressed me up against the door, and tugged my wrists together with only one hand.
“Are you arresting me?” I laughed. “What are the charges?”
“Lewd conduct.”
I could sense him bending to the ground to pick up the key, then slowly trailing his lips over my exposed thighs as he rose. I groaned as Ashton pushed his hips into me, my back flush against the door.
Still maintaining a vice grip on my hands, he maneuvered the key with his free hand, sliding it into the lock. My heart skipped a beat as I heard the bolts click. The door swung open abruptly, and I flew backward into the room.
Luckily, Ashton caught me before I could plummet to the ground.
“My prince,” I cooed, giggling.
“Oh, yeah? What do I get for saving the princess?”
I replied, “This.”
I yanked his swim trunks to the ground, revealing his erection. Slowly, I sunk to my knees, until I was at eye height with his cock. My gaze flew up to meet his, and over the hills and valleys of his form, I could see that his chest was rapidly rising and falling. He’d caught his lower lip between his teeth in anticipation of the coming pleasure.
My hands came up to his balls, and lightly toyed with them. His body stiffened, and I grinned, pleased with myself. I ran my index finger up and down the length of his shaft, teasing and coaxing him in the same movement. My touch was feather-light, like a butterfly oh so delicately beating its wing.
“Harley,” he groaned.
“Yes?” I replied, feigning ignorance.
“Just—just do it.”
“Mmm, I think I’m gonna make you wait for it.”
With that, I shuffled forward on my knees, bringing my mouth level with his cock. I blew hot air over the surface of his ridges, and I felt his knees begin to give way.
“Harley,” he repeated, this time with more urgency.
I didn’t need to be told again.
I closed my lips around the tip of his cock, moistening them with my tongue before beginning to slide, achingly slowly, down his shaft, pulling back slightly before taking more and more of him inside.
Ashton let out a groan, his fingers tangling in my hair. Using my tongue to play along his length, I pulled back to tease his head, my right hand rising to squeeze his shaft while the left lightly grasped his balls. Ashton’s knees, which had moments before been shaking, buckled.
I giggled as he joined me on the ground. My eyes locked on his, and I saw a looming promise building behind their whites.
“You’re laughing at me now,” he continued, “but I’m g
oing to show you how it feels.”
Without further ado, he lunged towards me, knocking me flat on my back and hefting his entire weight over my form. I gazed up towards his face, which blocked the chandelier that hung directly overhead. He was animalistic or angelic, I couldn’t tell. Is there a difference? Does it even matter?
Because the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in real life was poised above me, with the vow on his lips to bring me to untold heights of ecstasy.
With an aching languidness, he lowered the very edges of his mouth to meet the curve of my neck, where he began to trace a path up and down, following my veins, listening to my beating heart as if it were a sacred chant. His lips made love to the hollow of my neck.
Sighs of pleasure escaped me, and I felt the shape of his lips form into a wide grin.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now you’re getting it.”
Those taunting lips shifted from my neck down to the curvature of my breasts, where he let the tip of his tongue trail the plateau between my breasts. I gasped for air, but he gave me no respite. He was a cruel, exquisite master.
Ashton put his mouth to one of my pert, pink nipples, and began to flick his tongue across the sensitive flesh. I squirmed with delight, knowing that as good as it felt, I wanted more.
“I want you inside me,” I breathed. “Right now.”
“After how you toyed with me? That doesn’t seem fair.”
But he must have seen the primal desperation in my eyes, because with a lazy grin, he stuck two fingers in his mouth, and brushed them over my nipple. From there, he moved the wet fingers down my abs, down to my eager and expectant pussy.
“I see I didn’t need to wet my fingers,” he noted as he entered me. He was right about that—now I just needed him to put me out of my misery.
His fingers had no sooner entered than they were gone.
“What are doing?” I cried.
“Wouldn’t you prefer my cock?” he asked slyly.
Moving without words—I was a woman mad with desire—my hands grasped for his ass, and tugged him down until his cock was mere inches from me. He held back.
The Baby Bargain Page 9
