“I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My inner child jumps for joy, clinging to her tiara, dressed in her princess gown. Prince Charming is here, and he’s everything I ever dreamed of and more. “I have to admit that I kinda hate that we can’t be together.” I pause, thinking of the right words. “I mean, together like we both want to be. We’re stuck.”
“Fuck that,” he quips back. He thrusts his hand into the room and his eyebrows practically touch his hairline as he waits for me to do something. “Come on,” he gestures to his hand, “lets go.”
There’s no question in my mind that I’d go anywhere with him. It doesn’t matter where as long as I’m with him. I don’t say a word, placing my hand in his, and he helps me out my window. We run silently across the lawn, doing our best to avoid the areas he knows are within the security camera’s reach. Once we’re in the parking lot, I laugh. Freedom has never felt so good. He hands me his helmet and I don’t hesitate in jumping on the back of his bike.
With my arms tightly wrapped around his waist he weaves in and out of traffic and I do nothing but look at the lights and take in the crisp, fresh air. Eventually we slow down and the scenery changes, becoming more rural. Sidewalks are replaced by small patches of lawn and walkways. Minivans and sedans line the streets, illuminated by the soft glow of lampposts. We pull up next to the sidewalk, and Asher turns off the bike and dismounts. He offers his hand, guiding me carefully off the bike. Feet firmly on solid ground I remove my helmet and shake out my hair as he looks at me in wonder, like he can’t believe I’m actually real. “Where are we?” I ask, looking up and down the street at a neighborhood that even in the dark I can tell is a nice one. The lawns are all tidy, the cars fairly new, the streets free of litter, a sign tacked to the lamppost next to us boasting of the neighborhood watch scheme.
He smiles. “My house.”
“You have your own house?” I ask, slightly amazed, although, I really shouldn’t be.
He chuckles, placing his hand on the small of my back and guiding me toward the front door. “Yeah, I do. Remember I’ve had six years to get my shit together.”
He stops, digging in his pocket for what I assume to be his keys, before he slides it into the front door, opening it, and quickly flicking a light switch. He gestures for me to go in, and I oblige, my eyes immediately taking in my surroundings. It’s a small, open one level, but it is immaculate and gorgeous. Hardwood floors line the room, and although there’s not a lot of furniture, what is there is obviously of good quality and fits the space perfectly. Nothing is out of place. It’s pristine.
I stand just inside the front door, completely in awe when the sound of the door shutting behind me snaps me out of my haze. Asher laughs from behind me and I look over my shoulder. “Not what you expected?” he asks, kicking off his shoes and placing them neatly by others lined up next to the wall.
“It’s very nice.” I pause. “And clean,” I add, kicking my own shoes off and kicking them to the side. I don’t bother to attempt to line them up. There’s no use. I probably wouldn’t do it right anyway. Asher leans over and picks them up and places them next to his and smiles. “Yeah. My life was always chaos so I had to control something.”
“Makes sense.”
I’m still gawking like an idiot when I feel his hand slide into mine. I pull my eyes away from the clean lines and look at him again, watching as he uses his other hand to run through his hair. “What are we doing here?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly as my heart pounds against my chest so loudly that I can hear it thundering in my ears.
He shrugs. “I don’t really have a plan.”
The room falls silent and it hits me that we’re alone—alone, alone. There aren’t any cameras here, at least, I hope not, and no chance of someone catching us. We don’t have to be quiet, we don’t have to be sneaky, we can just . . . be.
I lift up onto my toes and place a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. His body locks and his eyes come to mine, the heat in them unmistakable and I know I’m not the only one thinking these kinds of thoughts. He searches my face, watching on as color floods my cheeks and heat rolls through my body, more specifically, straight between my legs. He cocks his head to the side, asking a question that I’m pretty sure he already knows the answer to.
“Yes.”
My voice is a whisper but I may as well have shouted the word at the top of my lungs because in an instant his hand grips mine and he leads me down the hall without another word, my heart racing in anticipation as I take in the art on the walls. No pictures, just art. I like that he’s being spontaneous. The uncertainty is driving me insane, but I like that he’s keeping me on my toes. It’s pretty much how our relationship is shaping up. I don’t know what’s next for either of us. All I know is that I need to be in the now.
We reach the back of the long hallway and, turning to switch of the lights, Asher shrouds us in darkness. He leans forward to peck my lips, and I hear the telltale click of a door opening, feeling his tug against my arms as he pulls me inside. My eyes haven’t yet adjusted to the dark and so I can’t see any of my surroundings, but feel the softness of the rug beneath my feet and squeeze my toes together, loving the feel of the soft pile.
He drops my hand and makes his way through the darkness, leaving me alone where I stand. There’s a soft click and a light comes on, illuminating the enormous space, the room much bigger than I would have expected. Backed up against the wall is a huge sleigh bed, covered with a dark chocolate comforter. Even from this distance I can tell it’s soft and I want nothing more than to lie on it.
I look to him for a sign, some sort of indication as to what he wants me to do. I don’t need to wait long. Stalking across the room toward me like a panther, he closes the distance between us, lifting his hands to cup the sides of my face, pulling me closer to him. His lips cover mine and our mouths fall into an easy rhythm.
I can’t use my mouth to tell him I want this so I show him, leaning my body against him, desperate to be closer, desperate for him to know that I want him too. His other hand lands against the small of my back, pulling me closer until by back arches, pushing my hips against him. He glides his tongue along the length of my bottom lip and every nerve ending in my body comes to life, feeling things as though it was the first time.
Despite being out of my comfort zone my body hums to life, and suddenly I feel like I can do anything. With a sudden rush coursing through my veins, I lean up into him, pressing my hands against his chest, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he adjusts his body. Overcome with the sudden urge to touch every inch of him, I slide my hands underneath his shirt and run the pads of my fingertips along his obliques, feeling the shiver my touch creates. He hesitates for a minute but must make a decision because within a heartbeat he’s wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. I moan softly into his mouth and a low growl escapes his own. And then I’m moving backward, him guiding me across the floor, pushing me until I’m flat on his bed—I knew this comforter would be soft— and the mattress around me dips as he crawls on top of me, leaning down to kiss me again, slow and soft, his body hovering above me. He kisses me once more. “I’ve wanted this, Tegan.”
“Me too,” I manage to say, even though I’m completely breathless.
His eyes glaze over with intensity and the look he gives me is akin to a whip to my racing heart. His hands fly to the neck of my shirt and in one swift movement he rips it down the center, his mouth covering mine, his tongue invading my mouth, and I’m so engrossed in his kiss that I don’t realize what he’s trying to do until his hands are spanning my ribcage, lifting my torso. In my aroused state I am more than happy to oblige him in the removing of my clothes so I arch my back, giving him the room he needs to release the clasp of my bra. He rocks back onto his ankles, slowly removing both my shirt and my bra. My skin burns with the touch of his fingers against my skin. His eyes run down my body as he tosses my clothes to the floor, his gaze
landing on my breasts. Cool air hits my skin and my nipples tighten, the sensation almost painful given the pleasure ransacking my body. He dips his head, teasing a nipple with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth and I cry out, my feelings for him shifting from want to need.
Asher’s hand slips behind my back, pulling me up toward his mouth, continuing to work every inch of my skin, and though we’re still separated by too many layers, I roll my hips against him, searching for friction, trying to ease the fire burning within me. He takes my cue and leans back, pulling his shirt over his head and as the fabric leaves his skin it reveals the body that I have been fantasizing about for so long. Needless to say, it doesn’t disappoint. His abs contract as he reaches down and unbuttons my pants, his hand sliding from my hip and around my ass to ease my pants down the length of my legs. His eyes fall briefly to the thin thong, now the only thing separating me from him. He reaches down and trails his fingertips over the thin material and I groan. “You’re unbelievably ready for me right now,” he breathes, undoing his own pants at a snail’s pace, all the while watching me writhe behind his touch. Watching him, watching me is almost painful and I look up at him and moisten my lower lip with my tongue. His eyes darken. “I’ve been wet for you in every session for the last two weeks.” My voice is thick with lust and my words are his undoing.
What little hold he’s had snaps. He tears my thong from my body, the material biting into the skin of my hips before snapping completely, and throws it to the side. In one swift motion he kicks his pants the rest of the way off and he’s back between my legs, the tip of him pressing against me. My thighs quiver and he rightly takes this as permission before thrusting forward and filling me. I can feel myself stretching to accommodate him, the slow burn making his presence known and before I have the time to savor the fullness, he’s moving against me, pushing himself in and then pulling himself out. Over and over again my hips surge up to meet him, my hands clawing at his skin, desperate to keep him close. My movements are hurried, frantic; I know this. But I don’t want to waste a second. I want to take everything I can from this moment. His lips drop to my neck and he peppers my skin with kisses and whispers words I can’t make out as I feel myself building. I suck in a deep breath, my head falls back and I bring my left hand to my mouth, biting against the skin to stifle my moans. Asher starts to slam into me, driving deeper and deeper with each thrust, the slap of our skin creating a thunderous noise that I’m sure everyone within a ten-mile radius can hear. Throwing caution to the wind I drop my hand and he catches it in his own, pinning me against the mattress as he pounds deeper, harder, faster, a fierce growl escaping his lips when my back arches off the bed as my orgasm takes control of my body and I shudder underneath him, riding the high as the power behind his thrusts increases. Still his hips surge forward with reckless abandon and I lift my head to take his mouth with mine when I feel his muscles stiffen and he thrusts one last time, planting himself inside me, his hands tightening around my wrists in delicious pain as his body stills and he lets out a cross between a groan and a growl.
Once he regains control of his body he releases my wrists, taking the time to rub the reddened skin. Then he slides off, collapsing onto the bed next to me, draping his arms across my stomach, preventing me from going anywhere.
As if I would.
I stare at the ceiling, my eyes wide with shock. I can’t believe I just had mind-blowing sex with my drug counselor. I’m definitely one fucked up cookie.
“Wow,” is all I can muster.
“Yeah.”
He exhales loudly and covers his face with his forearm. I roll to my side, not losing the arm over me, and place my hand against his chest, tracing circles over the smooth, taut skin and smile. “Ready for round two?”
He lets out a rough chuckle and the sound hits me straight between my legs. “To be honest, all I want to do is lay down with you and sleep for a few hours.”
I expect to be disappointed but I’m not. Not in the slightest. It’s like he knows what I need. Overcome with emotion, I turn to him and wrap my arms tightly around his neck and his around my waist tightens, pulling me close to him briefly before he moves away. I’m confused, wondering what he might be doing until his hands hold my hips and he lifts me off the bed, planting my feet down onto the soft carpet. He whips back the comforter and tosses the throw pillows into a heap on the floor before turning to me again, scooping me up with one hand under my knees, the other behind my back. Gently he places me inside the sheets, before climbing in behind me and covering us up.
Lying on his back, he reaches over to the nightstand and tags a remote, switching on the television mounted on the wall across from the bed. I make my way closer to him, my body against the length of his, my head resting against his chest. His arm settles across my shoulders, holding me in place and he sighs heavily, his shoulders dropping, all tension leaving his muscles as he relaxes.
So here we are, lying in Asher’s enormous and ridiculously comfortable bed. Me safely tucked underneath his arm while he carelessly plays with my hair on my head. The light of the television illuminates his tattooed arm and I can’t help but run my fingers along the etched skin. “Tell me about your tattoos,” I say.
His mouth turns upward in a grin and his eyes remain fixed on the screen as he replies, “You first.”
“I’d like to say they mean something but they don’t. I just got them because they were pretty.”
“They must mean something?”
I shake my head. “Nope.” I hold my hand up in front of his face, eyeing the ink that adorns it. “I hate flowers. Especially roses.”
He breathes heavily through his nose. “Typical girl,” he teases sarcastically.
I drop my hand against his chest and he bellows with laughter. My legs tangle with his as we tussle playfully before I relax against him and say, “All right, smarty pants, what about yours? Big meaning behind those, hey?”
“Well, one is about the power of a woman’s sensuality; another is about the good and the bad; another reminds me that once time is gone we can’t get it back. Then there’s my favorite—the one that reminds me it doesn’t matter how many times you get knocked down, as long as you get back up.”
My eyes are glued to him. I’m in complete shock. This man who has taken my world by storm is so wise beyond his years. And he’s mine. He tries to keep track of what’s on the TV but he keeps glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, attempting to be serious until he finally loses it. “What?”
“What?” I ask back.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“You shock me, is all. You’re really smart.”
“What, you didn’t think I was smart?”
My face flushes in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant . . .”
He flips me onto my back and pins my hands above my head, which is quickly becoming my favorite place to have a conversations, he peers down at me. “I’m just fuckin’ with you Tegan. Relax.” He drops his head closer, leaning down to place a soft kiss against my lips and I swear my heart flutters at the simple gesture of affection. He grins as he pulls away from me, leaving me completely breathless.
“So, do this often?”
Shaking his head, he clears his throat and leans his forehead against mine, his voice quiet, almost unsure as he admits, “You’re the first girl I’ve been with since being clean. Drugs and sex always went hand in hand for me. It was always too big of a risk for me to be with someone. Until you.”
Can anyone say WOW?
“Why me?” I ask, not sure if I want the answer but needing to know just the same.
“Why not?”
I giggle.
“To be honest, the risk is still there for me, I know that. But like I’ve said before, there’s something about you, Tegan, and that something makes all of that not matter anymore.”
I SNEAK BACK INTO my room before the sun is up but the minute I slide in between the cool sheets, my skin starts to crawl. I m
iss his touch. The warmth of him surrounding me as I sleep comfortably. I toss around in my bed and squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to fall back asleep, but it evades me. I turn over again. And again. The sheets tangle around my legs. My breath hitches. My stomach aches. A heaviness settles between my legs and I groan, thrashing against the bed in frustration.
Time moves like molasses in January and I watch helplessly as the hands on the clock slowly tick by. By the time it hits 8 a.m., I’m on my feet and, not bothering to run a brush through my hair, get dressed, or even put on shoes, I dart out of my room and through the hallways that I’ve come to call home. Without really thinking, I end up in front of his door. It’s closed. I’m fairly certain he’s got a patient with him, but I don’t care—my hand rapping loudly against the wood regardless. I hear murmurs from behind the door, and then the knob turns and the door opens.
“Tegan,” Asher says surprised, looking over his shoulder uneasily, his eyes so wide I can see the whites around his irises.
“I—I—I . . .” I stammer, unable to find the words.
He looks over his shoulder again and calls, “Can you give me just a second, Allison?” I hear a response but don’t really know what’s said. He steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him. My body hums with his presence. He looks around the hallways, which are thankfully empty, and hisses, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I can’t explain it. I just . . .”
“Spit it out, Tegan. I have a patient waiting.”
I want to be hurt by his words, but I have no right to be. I know enough to realize that I’m acting crazy. It’s like an out of body experience; watching myself do something I know I shouldn’t. I’ve fucked up. “I just . . . are we okay? I mean, y’know . . . are we good? After last night? I wasn’t sure if . . .”
I pause but Asher doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me, an unfamiliar look in his eyes that I don’t like. “I think I need you more than I thought. Time stands still without you. Nothing moves forward.” I reach across the space between us and tentatively wrap my finger around his pinky. He sighs, slowly pulling away from me, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.
Reprieve Page 15
