Stab at Love

by Kristine Mason

  Hello? she asked when Grandma didn’t respond. Grandma? Are you there?

  Still no answer. Strange. Grandma had started visiting her shortly after her death. Ivy had been living with her mom when she’d met Richard. He’d been ten years older than her, handsome, had had a high-paying career, owned a home and had no children. She’d thought there could be something special between them, and there was, until the old lady had started yapping away. One thing she’d say about Grandma, if there was an award for nagging, she would win it every time.

  Grandma had gotten so into her head, by the time the old woman had finished, Ivy was convinced Richard was a liar and cheater, even when she’d had no evidence of it. Grandma had had her so paranoid, she’d broken up with Richard. And then the old lady had disappeared again. Those had been good months. She’d spent time with her mom and had done some serious soul searching. Once her mom was doing better without Grandma living there, Ivy had decided it was time to get her own place. Done living in Dayton, she’d chosen Atlanta, where she’d met Theo. Then guess who’d started talking again?

  She’d begun to worry that she was just as crazy as her mom and grandma. Then she’d figured grief had messed with her head, and ‘hearing’ Grandma’s voice was a coping mechanism. She’d considered going to a psychiatrist about it, then had changed her mind. She’d never been a good patient and hated taking medications. Besides, Grandma only bothered her if she was dating someone. Maybe Grandma hadn’t really been in her head, but represented her subconscious, her inner voice. And maybe it was her subconscious that had tried to sabotage her relationships because those men hadn’t been right for her.

  Since Grandma had showed up now, did that mean her subconscious thought being with Ash was a bad idea? And if that was the case, then where’d Grandma go? This was all confusing and ridiculous. If Ash knew she’d been carrying on a conversation with her dead grandmother, he’d think she was mad as a hatter and run the other way.

  “Honey, I’m home,” Ash called from his bedroom.

  She left her room to greet him, then froze in the adjoining doorway. Her butterflies went nutso in her belly, fluttering and dancing and making her dizzy. “I thought you went downstairs for a deck of cards,” she said, staring at the serving cart. A bottle of champagne sat on ice, two glasses next to it, along with chocolate-covered strawberries, a beautiful bouquet of roses and several dishes with metal covers on top.

  He held up a pack. “I did. But along the way I happened to find all this stuff and thought you might like it.”

  She approached the cart, then lifted one of the metal covers. “Mmm, smells wonderful,” she said, eyeing the chicken dish.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered chicken and steak. I figured we could share.”

  She thought back to his earlier comment about being comfortable around her, how he hadn’t expected a feeling of familiarity so quickly. She hadn’t, either. Christ, she’d peed in front of him. She’d had to go and hadn’t thought twice about it. What did that say? Either she had zero manners or her subconscious was good with Ash. After all, Grandma was no longer in her ear.

  “I thought you didn’t know how to share,” she said, loving this little surprise. Loving him.

  Wait. Was that possible? Yes, she believed in love at first sight, but it had never actually happened to her prior to meeting Ash. Could she be falling for him?

  This was the point where Grandma should tell her she was being a silly, stupid girl. Or she might remind her how Mom had loved Dad too much, and that it had nearly broken her mother when he’d gone missing.

  She wasn’t her love-sick mom or her bitter, paranoid grandma. She was her own woman, searching for her own happiness.

  “I know how to share, I just don’t like doing it. With you, it’s different.” His gaze grew intense. “Everything I have is yours.”

  Her heart skipped a beat as she twined her arms around his neck. “I’m yours.”

  He kissed her. “I know. And I don’t remember ever being happier.”

  “Yet you’ve traveled the world and—”

  “No lie. I’ve never been happier. Seeing the world…I’m lucky to have the means. But it’s like I told you. I’ve been a traveling recluse, and that needs to change. Get on the bed and let me feed you.”

  She did and relished every minute. Loved that he wouldn’t let her use her hands, how he held the fork out for her to take a bite. His chocolate-strawberry kisses. His champagne kisses. Every single damned kiss he gave her.

  Hours later, their bellies full, their heads buzzing with the champagne, they made love. Afterward, he held her in his arms. “Check out is noon.” He kissed her shoulder. “I’d like to leave earlier, though.”

  “Do you have work to do?”

  “Not work-work, but we need to go to your place, get you packed, then put your things away.”

  She did everything in her power to keep her body relaxed. “Get me packed?”

  “My house is now yours.”

  “Ash, I have my own place.”

  “Right, but you made your choice. When you agreed to be in my life, you agreed to move into my bed.”

  She didn’t bother to hide her tension. “I thought you meant for the weekend.”

  He rolled on top of her and covered her with his big body. If Grandma was around, she’d cry, “Danger!” But she didn’t feel endangered. With the way he was looking at her, as if she was the only person, the only thing in the world that mattered, she felt cherished. Loved.

  “No, baby, I don’t want one weekend. I want your lifetime.” He cupped her face. “I want you in my life.”

  She melted under his heartfelt gaze, his gentle touch. “This is moving fast. I’m…not ready to give up my rental house.”

  Disappointment clouded his eyes. “I understand,” he said, moving his hand between her legs. “I don’t want you just for sex.” He thrust a finger inside her, making her groan. “I want you for you. I can’t explain what’s happened to me between yesterday and today. All I know is I need you with me. This morning, when I’d jumped in the shower—”

  “Please don’t bring up the peeing thing,” she said, her cheeks burning.

  “Yeah, not a sexy subject, but when you did that, I realized I wanted more. Not peeing of course.”

  She laughed. “Of course.”

  “I wanted more of that familiar stuff. Cooking alongside you, brushing my teeth next to you, dragging the garbage out together. Never mind that, I’ll take out the garbage.”

  She grinned and ran her palm along his soft beard. “Unless you’re out of town, you’ll be on garbage duty.”

  “If I’m out of town, you’ll be with me.” He looked away for a second. “I know I don’t say the right things. I thought about your caveman comment last night and I guess I can get that way. But it’s only because I…I want to be with you. And, I also know I have dark urges.” He looked to her bruised breast, then kissed it. “Hurting you has been eating at me.”

  “Let it go. I told you to do it.”

  “Yes, but if that’s something you don’t like, I can try to change.”

  Change? Hell, no. “I like you the way you are. Even when you’re being all caveman and letting your dark urges show. I like you.”

  His gaze softened as his lips moved closer to hers. “One day you’ll love me.”

  If it wasn’t too soon, she might say it now. But would he eventually love her?

  He pressed the head of his erection against her sex. “Since being with you, I’ve had so many strange feelings running through my body and mind. Feelings I haven’t had before. And that’s no line.”

  She leaned up and kissed him. “I know,” she said on a moan as he entered her.

  “Be with me, baby. Move into my bed.”

  How could she say no when he was on top of her, filling her, giving her so much pleasure and taking away the loneliness? For the first time in years, she wouldn’t be alone. She would have a lover and friend, someone
to share the day and night with, someone to hold her and maybe even love her. Someone to keep the butterflies fluttering.

  “Yes,” she said, wrapping her legs around his back. “I’m not ready for the weekend to end, so I’ll stay with you for a few days.”

  He thrust hard, then held himself still. “You’ll stay with me forever.”

  Chapter 9

  One week later…

  Ash’s house, Norfolk, Virginia

  Saturday, 10:22 a.m. Daylight Saving Time

  IVY WAS IN love. She grinned at her reflection as she finished brushing her hair, then slipped into the silk robe Ash had bought her. She still couldn’t believe she’d been here at Ash’s for a week, or that half of her things had been brought over from the rental. Who did that? What normal, rational person would move in with someone after knowing them for only a couple days?

  A person in love, she supposed. And she was in love. She was crazy about Ash and suspected he loved her, too. At least she hoped he did. While it was abnormal and irrational for her to stay here, it was also a great way to get to know him better. She’d learned they had similar tastes in movies, books and music. On the surface he’d appeared to be a neat freak, until she’d opened a few closets and drawers and discovered otherwise. He loved to eat, so long as the food didn’t contain nuts. She’d figured out that one after she had made him pecan crusted salmon for dinner. He was also ambidextrous—which she still couldn’t wrap her brain around—and spoke Spanish, French and German fluently. He played the cello, too.

  Although Ash was open and honest about most anything, he tended to clam up if she said anything about feelings. The only F word he preferred to discuss was fucking, and that was okay. They had their entire lives ahead of them. There would be plenty of time for both fucking and feelings.

  A knock came at the bathroom door. “Are you almost finished?” Ash asked.

  “I need to get dressed, then I’ll be ready to go,” she said, opening the door. The local meteorologist had promised them a warm, sunny spring day. While the water would be too cold to go into, Ash had suggested they take a drive to the beach, have lunch and people-watch.

  “We’ll go later, or tomorrow.”

  She hid her disappointment. She’d bought a new bikini and hoped to show it off to him. “Did you make other plans for us, or just for yourself?”

  There’d been a few times this week when he’d left without saying where he was going and had stayed gone for hours. Since she’d had work to do, that had been fine. But she couldn’t help wonder where he’d gone. If Grandma was still around, she’d suggest Ash had other women on the side. She didn’t believe that, not given how thoughtful, generous and attentive he was to her. He made it clear she was special to him. Even during the couple times he’d been withdrawn and had needed to be alone, he’d reassured her that she was the only one for him. Maybe that had been why he was leaving the house. Maybe he needed time for himself. They’d both lived alone for years and being here in his house, together, was an adjustment for each of them.

  “What would I do by myself?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever you do when you leave me here.”

  His mouth curved into a cocky grin. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your tone?”

  “No. Maybe. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if I left and didn’t bother telling you where I was going or when I’d be home.”

  His grin faded. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. I apologize. I…sometimes I need space.”

  Just as she’d figured.

  “I take my camera with me,” he continued. “Sometimes I take photographs, other times I think about you. And when I’m thinking about you, I’m wondering why the hell I left the house in the first place.”

  “This is new to you.” She rested her hands on his chest. “We’re going to have to deal with some growing pains. Maybe we need a small break. Why don’t I go back to my place tomorrow and give you a few days to yourself?”

  Irritation flashed in his eyes and furrowed his brow. “You moved into my bed. That’s where you belong.”

  “Oh, stop with that. I didn’t move. I still have things at the rental, and I’m still paying rent and utilities. Here, I’m playing house.”

  “Playing house,” he echoed. “I’m not playing.”

  God, the man’s way of thinking could be ridiculously severe. She gave his beard a gentle tug. “It’s just a figure of speech, my love. This is real for me.”

  His face and eyes softened. “Sorry, you know I sometimes take things literally.”

  “No worries. So, what new plans did you make for us?”

  He spun her around until she faced the king-sized bed. His room was decorated in a masculine yet minimalistic style. The walls were a cool gray and adorned with a few framed black and white photographs of various landscapes and random objects. The dark bulky furniture looked heavy, and probably was, and the bed—which was draped with a blood-red comforter—had a black cushioned headboard. But her gaze wasn’t on the room’s décor, but the strips of white material lying across the comforter, and the camera next to it.

  He’d mentioned wanting to photograph her, but it hadn’t happened yet. Although nervous about what he’d see through the lens, her dancing butterflies told her not to worry.

  “Take off your robe,” he said, untying the sash for her. “The sunlight is too perfect to waste. Let me photograph you.”

  Her heart beating a little faster, she glanced to the two large windows facing the backyard. A little sunlight spilled into the room, and a few of the sun’s rays tiptoed across the bed. “Here?” she asked, holding her robe closed, and not understanding her own apprehension. She trusted Ash. He’d seen her naked and had touched every part of her body. But for some reason, this made her nervous.

  “Yes,” he said, dragging the red comforter to the edge of the bed to reveal the stark white blanket and sheets underneath.

  “Okay, give me a minute to check my hair and put on makeup.”

  He walked over, speared his fingers through her hair and kissed her. Just as the kiss turned hot, open-mouthed, he pulled away. He shifted his gaze from her hair to her lips. “Perfect.”

  She glanced at her reflection in the dresser mirror and couldn’t help smiling. Of course he liked what he saw. She looked as if she’d just had sex.

  “Come on, off with the robe.” He patted the bed. “I need you here.”

  Releasing a breath, she let the garment slide from her body, then went to where he’d indicated. Once seated, she held her hands in her lap.

  “What’s with you?” He sat next to her and kissed her shoulder. “Why are you so tense?” he asked, running his fingers up her spine.

  “I don’t know. These pictures…no one is going to see them, correct?”

  “You’re mine. No one sees what’s mine.” He moved a lock of her hair over her shoulder. “Move to the center of the bed and face the window. Good. Now sit as if you’re straddling my dick.”

  Her nipples hardened. She glanced over her shoulder at him and to his crotch. “I wish I was right now.”

  “Soon,” he said, promise in his eyes. He moved the sheets and pillows, making the bed look used. “Okay, back straight, and look toward the window.” The camera clicked a few times. “Pull the sheets so they cover part of your breasts.” Click, click. “Excellent. Lie down.”

  For the next thirty minutes he had her shift into various poses. She’d expected him to take pornographic shots, but he surprised her and kept the photoshoot tastefully sexy. “Can I see a few of the pictures?” she asked.

  He sat next to her and showed her one of the digital shots. “Stunning.”

  The picture was beautiful, sultry. “I wish I looked like this all the time. Even in clothes.”

  “You do. Even in clothes,” he added with a grin.

  “Thank you, but—”

  “No buts. Look at your eyes.” He switched to the next picture and she did as he instructed. “This is what I see when
you look at me.”

  She glanced to the photo again and saw what he saw. A woman in love.

  “Why are you blushing?” he asked, then kissed her warm cheek.

  “No reason.”

  “No lying.” He set the camera aside in exchange for the white strips of material, which turned out to be long, sheer silk scarves. “Tell me,” he said, wrapping the soft silk around both of her wrists.

  “Only if you explain what this is about.”

  “The scarves? Photo props.” He finished binding her wrists together, then had her go and rest against the bed’s cushioned headboard. Taking the loose end of the scarf, he forced her arms up and over her head, then he reached behind the headboard. After a moment, he sat on his heels. “Give it a tug.”

  Her heart raced when she couldn’t free her wrists, and her earlier nervousness returned. Yes, she trusted Ash, but even after only a week she knew him well. He had dark urges, loved rough sex, and she knew he wanted to be the one and only man to take her anally. And that was something she didn’t want.

  “If I ask you to untie me—”

  “Then I will. I don’t have rape fantasies,” he said, loosely tying the scarf around her neck.

  “I know that.” Did she? She thought she knew him well, but what if he was hiding something from her? “But you like things rough.”

  He tied one scarf around her ankle. “With a willing partner,” he said, taking the long end of the scarf and tugging it.

  “Are you tying that to the bedframe?”

  “Yes, go ahead and give it a try.”

  Her leg barely moved. And though her nipples had grown hard and her sex ached for his touch, this bondage game still had her anxiety high. By the time he’d finished tethering her other ankle to the bed, she worried she might have a full-blown panic attack.

  “I don’t think I want to do this,” she said, squirming her bottom and trying to break free.

  “Shh.” He smoothed a hand along her torso. “Just relax. Let me take a few photos. If you’re still uncomfortable, I’ll untie you.”