by Melissa Fox
“No, I’m all right. Wasn’t too long after I got out of the hospital. Came by myself.” Taking her hand, he gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Don’t remember now what show I saw, but I came. Mom and Dad loved going to the theater. The three of us spent a lot of nights here at the Alex. They’d be disappointed if I let what happened ruin good memories or keep me from doing something I enjoyed.”
Her heart pounded in her throat and strangled her breath. Not the time or place, but she had to take advantage of the opportunity. Emma leaned forward, holding his gaze as she brought her mouth to his. Would he let her kiss him? Or maybe kiss her himself—kiss her mouth—but at the last second, he tipped his head and ran his lips over her cheek, along her jaw. The caress raised goose bumps and the fine hairs along her nape, but…He’d done it again. He avoided her mouth.
“Ash,” she breathed, heart heavy despite the erratic beat, and took a step back.
He frowned, hand reaching to trail down her arm—she never pulled away from him. Emma took a deep breath and curved her hand over his smooth cheek.
“Ash, Liz wouldn’t want to keep you from something you enjoyed, either. She wouldn’t want you to keep punishing yourself.”
“What are you talking about?” His hand snapped to his side, eyes cooling from heated blue to crisp ice, and his voice reflected the dangerous drop in temperature between them.
Heart twisting, she pressed on. She had to, for him, for the both of them. For Liz, even. They stood close, creating a small intimate world in the midst of the bustle of the patrons heading to their seats. The space was quiet and suddenly the center of her universe.
“Kiss me, Ash.”
“I just kissed you, greedy thing.” He smiled, but she kept her serious gaze leveled on his.
“You don’t.”
“I kiss you all the time.” He brought her hand to his mouth, arched his brow pointedly as he kissed the back, then turned her palm over and opened her fingers, pressed his mouth to the center.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He stared, his face hard and forbidding. He was good. The expression would have been enough to make her drop the subject altogether if she wasn’t in love with him up to her eyebrows.
“Ash, I’m sorry. I didn’t know her or you back then, but see you closing yourself off like this kills me. Why do you keep denying yourself? Denying me? You can’t tell me she’d want that. You can’t tell me you want that. You don’t deny yourself anything you want.”
Blue eyes blazed, and her heart leapt. Not in fear, not of him, but that she’d pushed too hard, gone too far, and in public. She couldn’t blame him for being furious with her, but she didn’t regret the words.
His voice rasped low with suppressed anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Emmaline. None at all.”
“Ash.” A numbing, burning shock of adrenaline hit her system. She cursed silently when her mouth trembled in reaction, sick for ruining the lovely evening he’d planned.
“You think I don’t kiss you because of her? Because of Liz? That’s what you think?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer but tightened his grip on her wrist and yanked her closer. “You have no idea. You want me to kiss you? Is that it? Do you?”
She bit her traitorous lip. He was furious. She’d gone too far. Too early in their relationship and too public—a serious miscalculation. He gripped her bare shoulders when she opened her mouth to speak.
“Oh, I’m going to kiss you, Emmaline. I’m going to kiss you and show you why I don’t.”
She only had a second to wonder at those cryptic, nonsensical words before he took her hand. Dragging her toward a small alcove where an exit sign glowed, he pushed the door open far enough for the both of them to slip through.
“Ash,” she hissed, throwing a glance behind her.
They’d left the well-appointed public part of the theater for a stark, utilitarian stairwell. He shoved her up against the cold block wall and pressed his body into hers, hands curled around either side of her neck. Thumbs stroked her jaw from chin to ear, his expression still thunderous as he stared. She wasn’t scared of him—just Ash, after all—but the look on his face flipped her stomach because she’d put it there.
“Want to know why I don’t kiss you, Emma? Do you?” His usually smooth voice ground rough and ragged in her ear.
“Ash, I’m sorry. I should have waited. I should have—”
“Not because of her, Emma. Not because of Liz. Maybe started out that way, maybe for a long time, before you. But ever since the first night we were together, it hasn’t been about that at all. It’s been about you. Been about this.”
His mouth took hers—hard, wild, and unrestrained. Prepared to fight, her gasp turned to a moan. He kissed her, and nothing had ever felt like that before. Nothing had ever taken her so high, so hard, so fast. His entire body dove into the kiss, taking, not holding back, letting what he felt snap its leash and rage unchecked. Swept away in the onslaught, she clung to him as need overwhelmed.
“This is why,” he hissed in her ear when he tore his mouth free, hands grabbing the hem of her dress and pushing the snug material over her hips. He returned for another frenzied dive into her mouth when she struggled weakly and started to protest. “Because when I start, I can’t stop. Too much, too soon. I haven’t found my balance with you, Emmaline. Haven’t figured out how to handle what you make me feel.”
Emma panted, staring at him, her brain screeching to a halt at his unexpected words. One masculine hand wrestled with the fastening on his suit pants while the other slid between her thighs, and he grunted in surprise and satisfaction—or both—as he pushed aside the thin band of lace and elastic. Fingers stroked, testing, and he kissed her again, took her to that place where nothing mattered but him.
“Do you really believe there’s any room for even the thought of another woman when I’m with you? You think I’m capable of seeing, of feeling, anyone but you? Remembering anyone before you? Of thinking at all? Do you really believe…” He shook his head, his jaw flexing. “This is why I don’t kiss you,” he growled. “Because when I start, I can’t fucking stop.”
He thrust into her, and—Oh. Oh, yes. Grunting with each stroke, he took her against the wall, and she reveled in his ferocity, in his loss of control, beyond any doubt he thought only of her when they were together. Tears streamed down her cheeks—relief, joy, and indescribable happiness, of…love. She wrapped herself around him and held on, every part of her she could manage—her arms, her legs, her heart. He gasped and shook, pressed harder into the cold wall, pulsing inside her in time with the tremors wracking his body. His heaving breaths gradually slowed, and she let her head go limp against his shoulder.
I’m in love with you.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she ran her hands up and down his back, over his suit coat, soothing and reassuring. Hopelessly, helplessly in love with this beautiful, brilliant, complicated man. Overwhelmed by the rush of emotion, the fear and exhilaration, the rightness of the sudden realization, she could only hold on to him, solid and real in her arms.
“Emma.” His voice was gruff, and his eyes widened when he saw her face. With a jerk, he pulled out of her body and severed the intimate connection. “Oh, God, Emma. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”
She struggled to stand on her own, wobbling on weakened legs and the thin high heels of her shoes. Cupping her cheeks, his thumbs brushed away the wet trail of tears before his hands ran through her hair and over her body, checking for damage.
“I’m okay, Ash. I’m okay. Really,” she added when he scowled at her.
“You’re crying.” He pulled her to him and hugged hard. “Not okay. I’m so sorry.”
Just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he held her away and tugged her skirt down, smoothing the velvet over her hips. At some point, he’d pulled his pants up, but they sagged dangerously. Grabbing the waist before they fell, his mouth set in a hard, self-castigating line as he fastened them, movements harsh and erratic. Emma reached
out to touch his cheek.
“Ash. Don’t. It’s okay. That was…” She shook her head, unable to adequately describe what had just happened.
“Fucking stupid.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe… I lost my fucking mind. That’s why I don’t kiss you.”
She shivered, and not because of the cold mortar at her back. “I liked it. I like that you lose control when you touch me.”
He stared at her. “I just took you in a stairwell. At the theater. Shoved your skirt up and went at you, and I didn’t even—You didn’t even…”
He waved his hand, unable to complete the thought.
“Ash, that was amazing. Incredible. So much fun. I loved it.”
He let out a startled laugh. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Crazy about you.” She fought the tremble in her knees at the truth of her words and stretched contentedly instead. “How about we get out of the stairwell before someone does catch us?”
He cast an assessing glance over her, and she bit back a grin at the sight of her red lipstick smeared over his mouth. She circled a finger around her face to indicate the mess on his, and he wiped ineffectually at his lips and chin. Emma’s heart warmed as she pushed his hands aside and used the backside of his tie to wipe the glossy crimson from his skin. After giving her a soft kiss in thanks, he stuck his head out the door and blew out a breath in exaggerated relief at the empty hallway.
“Sorry about missing the show.” The door shut behind them, and he guided her toward the sweeping staircase that descended to the lower level.
She tugged him to a halt. “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”
“Taking you home. After that…” He gestured to the emergency exit. “You don’t want to stay, do you?”
“Of course I do. You promised me a night at the theater, and I’m going to make you deliver. That”—she mimicked his gesture—“was just an added bonus.”
He managed to scowl even as one brow rose. “You sure?”
“Positive,” she told him firmly. “Just let me, ah, use the ladies room first, and then let’s enjoy the show.”
He leaned against the wall waiting for her when she exited the restroom, hands in pockets and one foot cocked against the other as he watched her with a smile curving his mouth.
“This way,” he urged, taking her hand and leading her toward the stairs.
“But those are to the private boxes.”
“Yeah.” He pulled the tickets out of his inside coat pocket to hand to the usher, but she stopped a few feet away.
“You bought me box seats?”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Not a big deal, Emma. They’re just theater tickets. Should have done something like this for you a long time ago. I should always do something like this for you.”
She leaned up on tiptoe in her heels and planted a kiss right on his lips, a really good one, ignoring the discreet cough the usher gave to hide his grin. “Thank you. For everything.”
His fingers curled under her jaw, and his thumb brushed over her cheek. “If I can get you something, I will. You’ve got me at the point I’d do just about anything for you, Emmaline.”
She hugged him tight. Maybe someday he’d give her what she most wanted, but that wasn’t something she could ask for.
As usual, Ash was out of bed the next morning before she even awoke. Emma inhaled the scent of coffee as she struggled to shake off the sleep and contentment addling her brain. After making a quick stop in the bathroom, she staggered into the kitchen to find him bright, cheerful, and brimming with energy.
“How can orgasms deplete everyone else on this earth but only supercharge you?” she groused, accepting the mug he placed in her hands.
He shrugged. “I’m special that way.”
She scoffed but smiled as she downed the coffee. He had such a way about him even just moving around the kitchen, strong, graceful, and too attractive for his own good. He kissed her—on the mouth—when she finished the drink, took the mug from her and refilled, adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar before placing the cup back in her hands.
Curling his hands over her shoulders, he turned her toward the breakfast bar and waited until she was seated before pulling a plate out of the warming oven. She blinked at the artful arrangement of eggs and sausage for a few seconds, until the amazing aroma hit her nose and triggered a rumble in her stomach. She grabbed her fork and dug in.
“Thank you. Oh.” Smooth, rich saltiness burst in her mouth. “So good. I’m starving. Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Already had mine, thanks.”
She ate until she couldn’t take another bite and sat back with a groan, hand pressed to her stomach. After placing her plate in the sink, he turned to face her and leaned against the counter.
“I want to talk to you about something.”
“Ah. Waiting until I’m in a food and sex coma. Clever boy.” She slouched down in the tall chair. “You aren’t going to start apologizing for last night again, are you?”
He shook his head. “No. I won’t apologize, although it’ll be a long time before I stop feeling sorry, and there’s nothing you can do about that. I want to talk to you about something else.”
“Okay.” Studying him, she fought sudden apprehension. A quirk of a smile curved his mouth, but his eyes were dark and serious.
“We don’t know when you have to go back—back to the States.” He moved across the kitchen to lean over the breakfast bar and take her hand. “And when you do, we’ll deal with it, like we talked about, but until then… Until then, I don’t want to waste time running back and forth between here and your apartment or spend any of the nights we have left while you’re still here not being with each other. Emma, I want you to move in. With me.”
Surprise held her immobile. Not what she wanted most from him, but close. Closer than she expected, but even that little bit only made her want more.
“You want me to move in with you?” she repeated, testing each word.
“I do. If that’s what you want. If you don’t, we’ll make things work, but I want you here.”
“I don’t know.” She pulled her hand out of his to press fingertips to her forehead. A glimpse of the stricken look on his face made her realize what she’d just said. “I mean, I do know. I just don’t know.”
He scowled and stood straight on the opposite side of the counter. “I don’t want to pressure you, Emmaline. If you’re not ready, if you don’t—”
“No, Ash. That’s not it.”
“It’s a lot to spring on you, but I don’t want to waste time. I want you here. Short term, if that’s all I can get, but I’m thinking long term here. I don’t know. Sorry if I’m being pushy.”
“Pushy is only one thing you are,” she muttered.
He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and took a step back. “I’m a jackass sometimes, too. I’m a lot of work, but I try to make it worth the effort. Hoped you could see past all that, and think I was worth your effort.”
“You’re all that and more.” She blew out a breath. How to explain? He didn’t see how she felt about him—how everyone felt about him. “You’re too clever for your own good. You’re so used to getting your way, because everyone falls all over themselves to give it to you, to catch your attention, to be in your spotlight. Ash, you glow. You’re one of those people who attract others like moths to your flame. You like to make others feel good, and I don’t just mean physically, although you’re pretty amazing at that. That’s just your nature, no matter how hard you’ve been trying to deny it. You give, and even though you take, too—you do enjoy your indulgences—you’re happiest when you’re giving pleasure. I’ve been lucky enough to have been on the receiving end these past few months.”
Cringing at the words spilling out of her mouth, she was too far gone to stop, lightheaded and reckless. “Is it any wonder—knowing all that—is it any wonder I love you?”
He froze, his mou
th and eyes opening wide. The expression would have been comical if it hadn’t made her want to cry. He reached toward her but let his arm drop to his side. Desolation threatened to swamp her. She’d gambled on the chance he’d fall in love with her, too, but judging by his horrified expression, she’d gambled and lost. The pride that both helped and hindered her throughout her life fought through the pain clogging her throat. She wouldn’t back down. She loved the stupid jackass, and it was his problem if he couldn’t see the best thing that had ever happened to him stood right before his damn gorgeous blue eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, breaking the stunned silence. “I shouldn’t have…”
Her voice trailed away, because yeah, she should have. No reason not to tell him how she felt, and she wouldn’t be ashamed of giving him her heart. She wasn’t sorry she loved him, just that he didn’t feel the same. “I’m sorry.”
His expression changed from shock to bewilderment and hurt. “Why would you be sorry you’re in love with me?”
“Because—” She winced, his words too close to what had been going through her mind. How could she explain what was obvious? Expecting him to deny, deflect, play her declaration off with humor, or even completely disregard the sentiment, she didn’t think he’d welcome her confession. “Because it appears that’s something you don’t want to hear.”
He looked completely offended, and it was her turn to be confused. When he spoke, his voice rang quiet and low, giving his words more impact. “I’ve really screwed things up if I’ve made you think that.”
“It’s just…” She floundered in her attempt to verbalize her feelings. Could she be wrong about his reaction? “I’m not sorry I love you, Ash. I couldn’t be. I thought it might be too soon, too much, that you’re not ready.”
“Ready?” He interrupted with a wry smile. “Who’s ready for that? If you’re ready to be blindsided, overwhelmed, blasted to pieces and then put back together again, well, if you’re ready for that, then it isn’t really love, is it?”
“A-Ash.”
“I was brought up by two people who loved each other—and me—beyond reason. I’ve always wanted what my parents had. I always knew when I met the right person, that’s what I’d have. That’s how they raised me.”
