Stab at Love

by Kristine Mason

  Wow. She hadn’t expected him to dismiss her for the night. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Or maybe he, too, didn’t want to rush their relationship.

  “An explanation would be nice,” she said anyway. Screw it. If he didn’t want to rush things between them, then he wouldn’t have staked his claim to her or threatened they’d stay together until death parted them.

  He untied his boots. “I’m not following.”

  “I had the impression that the night wasn’t over.”

  “It’s after eleven.”

  She’d once dated a guy who’d enjoyed playing head games, and she suspected Ash might, too. Irritated with him, herself and especially Grandma, she opened the door to her adjoining suite. “You’re right. It’s late. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Don’t bother with panties,” he said, stopping her in the doorway. “If I find you in a pair, I’ll rip those, too. And it’s pointless to lock your door since I have the key.”

  Her irritation intensified. “What are we doing here?”

  “I thought we were going to bed,” he said, not looking the least bit tired.

  “Then why the panties comment?”

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  She fisted her hands. “Never mind. I’m going to put a pair on anyway because you can’t tell me what I can and can’t wear. And since you claim to be a gentleman, you won’t come into my room without permission and you won’t ruin more of my underwear.”

  She left his room and closed the door behind her. Yes, he was most definitely playing head games. She was too old for that kind of nonsense and wouldn’t put up with it, no matter that he was fun, sexy and could coax her into a heart-stopping orgasm. There were other men out there. He just wasn’t the one for her.

  How could she have actually thought this could be love at first sight, and that destiny had brought them together? Maybe she was desperate and foolish. As she walked toward the bed, the denim rubbed against her sensitive skin again, driving her almost as crazy as Ash. She should probably add horny to that lovely list. Desperate, foolish and horny.

  After she stripped off her clothes, she put on an over-sized T-shirt and a pair of panties. Again, who was he to tell her what not to wear? Her body belonged to her. All his caveman talk had been hot in a deliciously disturbing way, but that was exactly what it was—just talk. And she’d fallen for it. She’d allowed him to seduce her into believing his crappy lines. Fortunately, she’d come to her senses. If something was too good to be true, it usually was. And that was Ash: too handsome, too rich, too famous.

  Too good to be true.

  She turned off the light and crawled into bed. Well, at least she’d had a fun day with him. It’d been a while since she’d had any fun. Maybe she’d ask him to take her home tomorrow. Or better yet, she would call a cab. The ride would probably cost over one hundred dollars, but she’d rather pay the fare than spend an uncomfortable hour in his car.

  The door to Ash’s room opened and light yawned across the hardwood floor. She shifted to her elbows. He filled the doorway, his large frame haloed by the lamp behind him.

  “Dangerous,” Grandma whispered. “Look how big he is. Think how easily he could hurt you.”

  For once, the old lady was right.

  “Who knows you’re here? Who would know if you went missing?” Grandma laughed. “Who would even care?”

  She was right again. Sure, the people at the winery knew she’d won the bid and where Ash had planned to take her. But other than the blonde who’d been running the auction, none of them knew her name. She worked from home and all interactions with her clients were done via email. She didn’t have any friends and wasn’t close with her neighbors. The only person who might question her whereabouts or notice she was gone was her landlord, and it would be another three weeks before her rent was due.

  “I told you not to come to my room,” she said, keeping her tone firm as she practically choked on worry.

  “Move the blankets,” he said, his voice strained with an undertone of anger.

  Between the darkness of her room and the light behind him, she couldn’t read his eyes or face to know if he was mad or not. Why should he be? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “No. Please leave. If you don’t, I’ll go to the front desk and see if I can be moved to a different room.”

  “Move the blankets, Ivy. I don’t want to have to ask you again.”

  Her worry multiplying, she pulled the sheet and comforter to her chin. “Please stop this. You’re scaring me.”

  “I thought you liked being scared.”

  “Not like this.” When he walked toward her, she scooted against the headboard. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll scream,” she threatened, then relaxed slightly when he turned on the nightstand lamp.

  Still dressed in his jeans and long-sleeved shirt, he stared down at her, a dark brow cocked, his eyes clouded with confusion. “You’re seriously scared of me?” he asked, disappointment in his tone.

  She nodded. “Because you’re so different and, well, hot, I got caught up in you. I didn’t bother to consider how vulnerable I’d be here, alone with a stranger.”

  His gaze became pained as he shifted it to the floor. “A stranger,” he echoed. “Is that what I still am to you?”

  Part of her wanted to swallow back the words. He was a powerful, dominant and sometimes arrogant man, yet at this moment, he looked uncertain and…hurt. The other part of her suggested she stay the course and not allow herself to be swayed by his words or actions. They weren’t real. Neither were the emotions he’d evoked. They couldn’t be, not after only knowing him a short time. “Jesus, Ash, we hardly know each other,” she said, not wanting to be mean, but to make her point clear. “We met yesterday. So, yeah, we’re technically still strangers.”

  “Are we?” he asked, the tenderness in his eyes belying his stony expression. “Would a stranger know you secretly wanted your dad gone so you could have your mom all to yourself?”

  Regretting she’d been too open and honest with him, she looked away. He took her by the chin and forced her to face him.

  “Would a stranger know you’re lonely? That you’re possessive? That you’re funny and smart?” He released her, then braced his arms on either side of her, pulling the blankets taut and caging her against the mattress. “Would a stranger know the softness of your lips or the eagerness of your tongue? Would he know you taste like heaven? Has he heard your sweet groans or felt your heat wrapped around his fingers?” His tender gaze darkened with desire. “Well, has he?”

  She stared at his lips, which were inches above hers. “No.”

  “Since I know all these things about you, then I guess I’m no longer a stranger.”

  “Then what are you to me?”

  “The only man who’s allowed to touch you.”

  “Damn it, this is what I’m talking about. You say things like this, then you practically push me out of your room and call it a night.” When his mouth curved in a slow, cocky smile, she narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  “You’re mad because I didn’t invite you into my bed.”

  “I’m mad because I think you’re playing head games with me, and don’t like it.”

  He inched his face closer. “Admit it. You wanted me to fuck you.”

  Of course she had, but hell if she’d help add to his arrogance by telling him the truth. “I want to know you’re not fucking with me.”

  “Then tell me what I need to do to prove that I’m not playing any games.”

  “Why did you call it a night?”

  “Because I wanted to see what you would do.”

  “Forget this,” she said, squirming under the covers. “Get off of me. I need to be out of this room.” He didn’t budge. “Please, Ash. Let me go.”

  “I was honest. What was wrong with my answer?”

  “You wanted to see how I would react to you blowing me off, and yet you claim you’re not playing any games with me.”

>   “That’s right. I’ve never talked to a woman the way I’ve talked to you. Ever. When we were on the last leg of the tour, I got to thinking about that, which had me wondering what you were thinking. So, I decided to back off a little, end the day on a high note, then ease into tomorrow.”

  “You were trying to give me space?”

  “I want to be with you. I’ve made that clear. And now I need you to decide if you want that, too.”

  She loved this thoughtful side of him, but had to admit she adored his aggressive, domineering side even more. “I didn’t think I had a choice.”

  “It’ll be the only time, but I’m giving you one. Afterward, I’ll honor your decision. If you don’t want to see me again, you won’t. If you want me in your life, then you’ll move into my bed.”

  The man was so damned extreme. With him it was nothing or everything and no in between. She didn’t want to stop seeing him. Now that he’d explained himself, and she understood he had been trying to give her space, she wished she could go back to when they’d first gotten back to the room. Instead of being childish and stomping off, she should have told him she was disappointed he’d wanted to end the evening. They probably could have hashed all this out then.

  Except…he had scared her. Or had he? Had she been afraid of him harming her, or afraid of her emotions. All day she’d been seesawing. She’d wanted to throw caution into the pasture and take a risk. She’d wanted to believe everything he’d said to her. On the flip side, she’d kept telling herself this couldn’t be happening, that men like Ash didn’t exist. That he was too unreal to be real. But he was real. She stared up at him. He was flesh and blood, had feelings and dreams. Yes, he was extreme and at times too intense for her. His passion, though… He was a passionate man. She’d tasted it in his kiss, felt it in his touch and also had small bruises on her hips as evidence.

  And no one had ever loved him. Given his looks, career and charm, she didn’t understand how that was possible. It didn’t matter. What did, though, was could she love him? And if he ended up falling for her, would their love be equal? Dad hadn’t loved Mom as much as she’d loved him. Even at a young age, that had been clear to Ivy, and she didn’t want to end up like her mother.

  “I’m waiting,” he said, jarring her thoughts.

  “I would like to keep dating you.”

  With disappointment chiseled on his stony face, he nodded. “I’ll either take you home in the morning or call a taxi.”

  He pushed away, and she was finally free of her blanket prison. “What are you talking about?” she asked, and threw off the covers. “I just said I wanted to date you.”

  His gaze drifted to her panties, before he went to the door. “Goodnight.”

  What the hell had she said wrong? She quickly remembered the ghost tour. He’d asked for permission to touch her, and even when she’d given it, he hadn’t until she’d said what he wanted to hear.

  Knowing what she needed to tell him, she got off the bed and followed him into his room. “I don’t want to date. I want you in my life.”

  His expression unwavering, he faced her. “You better be absolutely certain, because you won’t be given a choice again.”

  “You’re dealing with the devil,” Grandma said. “He’ll own your soul and drain you of life.”

  Shut up, Grandma.

  She needed to think, not have the old woman in her ear. There was something cryptic in his words, in his tone. Grandma could be right. Not about the devil crap, but about him owning her soul. If he were indeed her soulmate, then she most certainly belonged to him. Again, the problem was, would he belong to her? Would he love her enough, or would he be like the rest of the men in her life and leave?

  Chapter 7

  ASH HELD HIS breath and waited for Ivy to tell him to go to hell. He didn’t want her to, even if she should.

  If he’d used his normal lines on her, he would have already had her in his bed—multiple times—and had her death plotted and planned. Because Ivy was different, he’d chosen to be blunt and honest, and say things he knew most women would balk at, not to shock her, but to show her the real Ash. For once in his life, he wanted someone to see him. See inside of him.

  He wanted to know love. Tonight, when they’d been on the ghost tour and he’d secretly tasted one of her salty, hot tears, his stomach had grown sick. He’d seen women cry, he’d made them cry. But he never wanted his woman to shed another tear. Never wanted to be the cause of it. Which had been why he’d decided to give her a choice. He could have easily played her, cajoled her into believing they could be a couple, then, when her guard was down and he was deep inside her, have wrapped his hand around her throat and killed her.

  He didn’t want her dead. That something that she kept pulling from him, had told him it would be wrong to take her life. Was the something his morals? His conscience? Doubtful. He had no morals and constantly told his conscience to fuck off. Whatever that something was, he wanted to discover its meaning. If that took the rest of his life, then Ivy had to live, be by his side. Every single day and night.

  “You asked me if I wanted to love someone as much as my mom loved my dad,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

  “You said it was a scary kind of love. Not more than ten minutes ago, you also told me I scared you.”

  “I said you were scaring me. Big difference.”

  Another unfamiliar emotion tugged at him and had him wishing he’d chosen his earlier words differently. Was this guilt? He thought about Elena, how horrible and disgusted he’d been with himself when he’d realized he’d accidentally killed her, then how quickly he’d dismissed those thoughts as he’d photographed her beautiful face and eyes. He was a bastard who’d never dealt with guilt until this woman had rolled into his life. And he hadn’t even killed her.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder. God, he wanted that hair on him. Caressing his chest as she dragged her lips down his torso.

  “I know I said things that most men wouldn’t, but—”

  “You’re not like most men,” she finished for him, a small sexy smile tilting her mouth. “I’m realizing this. And while I love that you’re different, what scares me is falling in love with you. Men leave. That’s what I know. That’s all I know. I’m afraid of loving you, only to have you leave me.”

  It took everything in him not to go to her. He had no intention of leaving her. At this point, he still wasn’t sure what he’d do with her. Make sure she was happy and satisfied until the urge to kill was with him again? Then what? Kill and come home to her? Could he do that? But what if the urge came on when he was with her, buried in her body, her sex gripping him? He considered the attic idea again. Would she love him if he locked her in there?

  Doubtful.

  Fuck.

  “I won’t leave you,” he said, knowing it was the truth. He’d kill her before he let her walk away from him.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I just know. You have to take me at my word.”

  She looked to her bare feet. “Okay.” She nodded, then locked her gaze on his. “I told you my decision, and I’m sticking with it,” she said, trust in her eyes. “I want you in my life.”

  Pride and that something swelled in his chest. The need to mark her again surged through him. She was now his. As much as he wanted her naked and in his bed, he needed to be patient. She would expect him to rush, to haul her to him and rip those sexy little panties from her sweet ass. He would eventually, but for now, he needed to continue to earn her trust.

  “What, did I still not say the right thing?” Those pink slashes returned to her cheeks. “Fine, is this what you were waiting for me to do?” She hooked her fingers round the waist of her panties, then let them drop to her ankles. “Well?” she asked, kicking her underwear across the floor.

  His dick grew painfully hard as he fought to control his urges. He took a step forward. “You said and did everything r
ight. It’s me who’s wrong. You worry I’ll leave you, and I worry I’m not good enough for you to love.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Tell me this is real and I’m not being a gullible fool.”

  He ate up the space between them and cupped her face. “It’s real for me,” he said, searching her eyes until he found the trust he needed to see in them. “I want us to be real.” For however long he could go between killings, he truly did.

  “Are you going to bed now?”

  He half smiled, then kissed her. “I’m not tired. Take off your shirt.”

  Her teasing eyes challenged him. “I don’t feel like undressing myself again.”

  He grabbed the collar of her T-shirt, then ripped the material. Her gasp hit him square in the balls. “That’s one problem solved,” he said, yanking the rest of the cotton from her body. “Now get on the bed.”

  Holding his gaze, she climbed on the mattress. Damn, she was beautiful. Strong legs, curvy hips, small waist, full breasts and an ass he couldn’t wait to grab. His gaze dropped to the thatch of auburn curls above her sex.

  He undid his jeans. “Spread your legs.” As she exposed herself, he worried he’d come before he had the chance to touch her. He loved her pale skin, knew its softness. He noticed the tiny bruises along her hip. Instead of guilt, he had the primal urge to mark her again. She was, and always would, belong to him. Dead or alive, he owned her.

  After stripping off his shirt and jeans, he moved onto the bed. His focus on that thatch of curls, he slid his finger along her labia. She hummed and her knees fell to the side. Taking the invitation, he grazed his lips along her swollen flesh. Kissed her there, then he held down her legs and dragged his lips and beard over her inner thighs. Her breath quickening, she lifted to her elbows and watched him.

  “Did I not say the right thing again?” she asked, longing in her eyes.

  He kissed his way around her sex, avoiding her pleasure points. He wanted her to beg him to lick her. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, brushing his lips near her bottom. Would she eventually let him take her there? His balls tightened as he tickled her rear with his tongue. He couldn’t think about that, or he would definitely come and ruin this for both of them.