He looked at his wine glass as he thought about the question. Then he sighed. “Honestly? No, of course not. Our marriage was over. But I do feel guilty that she felt abandoned. I should have been more supportive. I probably shouldn’t have taken Jodi from her. That sent her over the edge, I think.”
“You had to think about Jodi. It doesn’t sound like a great environment for a teenage girl to grow up in.”
“No. There were bottles of vodka all over the place. She was drunk most of the time.” He massaged his forehead. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
Grace reached out and placed her hand over his where it clutched his wine glass. “You can’t live someone’s life for them, Ash. People have to make their own decisions, their own life choices. Being married is about supporting the other person, even if you don’t agree with what they’re doing a hundred per cent. If she wasn’t there for you, she didn’t deserve you. You’ve done nothing wrong. You protected your only daughter. And that’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.”
He smiled. “Thank you.” He turned her hand over and stroked her palm with his thumb.
Grace frowned. “Why on earth are you interested in me, when I’ve been perfectly horrible to you in the same way, not believing in what you do?”
He studied her, smiling mischievously. “Because I like your underwear.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Seriously.”
“I’m being perfectly serious.”
She looked down. His hot eyes made her flustered. “So…has your ex-wife—”
“Angela.”
“—Angela ever…come through?” She felt stupid saying it. It was as bad as putting her hands on the table and asking someone to knock three times.
He turned the wine glass back and forth in his fingers. Finally, he sighed. “No. Even in death we can’t seem to communicate.”
It would have been easy for him to pretend he spoke to Angela regularly. And yet maybe he realised saying no made him more believable. She sipped the Sauvignon. She still found it difficult to believe he was lying to her. “What does Jodi think about that?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes disappointed, sometimes relieved, I think.”
“But she believes in you?”
His eyes were warm. “You’d have to ask her that.”
She nodded. “Jodi’s seemed a bit better over the past week. Not so…unhappy.”
He sighed. “Yes. I don’t know why. But it’s a relief. I was beginning to get quite worried.”
“You still don’t know what was bothering her?”
“No.” He looked so sad she wanted to cheer him up.
“Show me where you work.” Again, he hesitated. She reached across and put a hand on his. “I won’t make fun of you, Ash, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m outspoken, and a cynic, but I’m not cruel.” She thought for a moment. “Okay, I know I called you some terrible things that night we met, but I didn’t know you then.”
“So you only insult strangers?”
She grinned. “Kind of.”
“That’s all right then.” He sighed and stood, holding out his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you around the house.”
She rose and took his hand. First, he led her into and across the living room, past a laundry room to what would normally have been the master bedroom. She peered through the door. It was quite possibly the untidiest room she’d ever seen, littered with clothing and jewellery, the table full of half-used make-up, CDs, candles and all the other paraphernalia gathered by a fourteen-year-old girl. He stopped and stared at it, lips pursed.
“Your room?” she asked him.
He gave her an amused look. “She’s this end of the house, so when she plays her music loud, I can’t hear it in my meditation room.”
“That makes sense.”
He continued past Jodi’s room to the next door. “This is her art room.” He pushed open the door at the end and showed her the large room, the wooden floor littered with easels and canvases.
“Wow,” said Grace, entering the room and walking up to the canvas on the nearest easel. “She’s very good.”
“I think she has talent,” said Ash, “but then I’m biased.”
“No, these really are excellent.” She wandered around the room, looking at the various still lifes and scenes. Then she stopped by a group of canvases with a distinctly different style of painting, the oils all dark tones—blues, blacks and reds, mostly abstract, with disturbing shadows and swirls. “Eek.”
“I know,” he said wryly. “That was one reason I was worried.”
“I can see why.” She flicked through the canvases. “Although they don’t necessarily reflect her mental state. They could just be an experiment of colour, trying out a different method.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Whatever it is, Ash, you’ll sort it out, the two of you. It’s clear you love her very much.”
He studied Grace for a moment, smiling. “Come on.”
He led her out, back across the living room and through the hall, then down a corridor to the west wing of the house. “Gym,” he said, pushing open a door on their left and showing her a room with a treadmill, a cross trainer, an exercise bike and weights. Large windows overlooked the garden, and there was a TV on the wall for him to watch while he worked out.
“Wow.”
“Healthy body, healthy mind,” he reminded her. Opposite that door was a spare bedroom, and past that a smaller but well-organised office with a table and computer. “This is the business room,” he said. “This is where my manager, Nate, works. He makes appointments, organises my shows and welcomes people who come for readings, that sort of thing.”
He led her across the corridor to a room next to the gym, pausing with his fingers on the handle of the door. “This is my meditation room.” His eyes met hers. Then he pushed the door open.
She walked into the room slowly. It was medium sized, sparsely decorated, painted in a pale green with a variety of colourful paintings on the walls. “Jodi’s?”
“Yes.”
She walked around, admiring the rainbow swirls and abstract patterns. “They’re beautiful.”
“I think so.”
To one side was a table with an iPod in its speaker, lots of candles and a variety of books scattered on the surface. The far wall consisted of glass with sliding windows that you could pull back to open the whole room to the beautiful garden outside. In front of the windows was a large exercise mat. And that was it.
In spite of the growing darkness, Grace could tell it would be a beautifully light room, and she had no doubt it would be breathtaking on a bright, sunny day. There was a sense of peace in the room too, presumably because of the serene colour of the walls. Grace wasn’t going to start thinking that the room somehow picked up on the calm, relaxed activities that went on inside it. She just wasn’t.
“It’s lovely,” she said eventually.
“Thanks. I like it.”
“So you come in here before you see a customer?”
He nodded. “Just to clear the mind and get relaxed.”
“And then you take them to another room?”
He smiled. “Follow me.”
He led her out and farther along the corridor to a room in the corner of the house. He opened the door, and Grace walked inside, not sure what to expect. In the end, it was almost disappointingly normal, like an ordinary lounge. She didn’t know what she’d expected—maybe Ouija boards and crystal balls and crucifixes on the walls or something. But there was nothing like that. She walked inside and stood for a moment in the centre. The carpet was a neutral beige, the walls a warm peach and the wall facing her, like in the meditation room, consisted almost entirely of glass. The other outside wall also had large windows, and again she knew it would be a light-filled room that oozed peace and tranquillity. Paintings of gentle seascapes hung on the walls, and the furniture was cream again, a plush sofa and armchairs, a couple of small tables and a cupboar
d in the corner.
“Go ahead,” he said when she looked at him enquiringly. Like an inquisitive child, she went to the cupboard and opened the doors. There were more candles, of all shapes, sizes and colours, books of every religion she could think of, as well as books on philosophy. Boxes of tissues, notepads and a variety of other paraphernalia he obviously used in his business made up the rest of the contents.
She closed the doors and turned around.
“No skulls or inverted pentacles,” he clarified.
She pulled a face at him. “After Todd, I have to check.”
“I can understand that.” He leaned against the wall, arms folded, and tipped his head at her. “How does this room make you feel?”
“Feel?”
“Yes, feel.”
She frowned, confused. What was he trying to say? It was just a room. But he was expecting an answer, so she looked around, at the seascapes, and the view of the garden, and the warm tones of the decor. “I don’t know. I thought I was going to feel nervous, but I don’t. And I thought, with all the people who must come here who are unhappy, it might feel depressing in here, but it doesn’t. It’s…peaceful. Clean. Hopeful.” She stopped, embarrassed at how far she’d gone. “Stop smiling at me,” she snapped. “It’s not like I’m agreeing to a séance or anything.”
He didn’t speak. Still smiling, he walked over to her, put his arms around her and kissed her.
Grace accepted the kiss, slightly puzzled, thinking he was just going to give her a peck, but he cupped her head with his hand and kissed her slowly, stroking her tongue with his, and almost without her being aware of it, turned her so her back was to the door and slowly began to move her toward it.
It was only when they were in the hall that she realised what he was doing and tried to pull away, but he tightened his arms, and she gave a short laugh as he refused to let her go. He walked her toward one of the last doors in the hallway, opened it and moved her inside.
It was his bedroom. She pulled back hurriedly. “Ash!”
“Too late,” he said, kicking the door shut with his foot. “We’re practically engaged now.”
She gave him an exasperated look and struggled as he kissed down her neck and pulled her hips close to his with one big hand on her butt. “Will you…stop!”
He sighed, pulling back. “Grace, it’s just a bed, and I’m not asking you to stay the night. But I’m thirty-four years old, and the carpet—even a sheepskin one—is hard on the knees, which took enough damage playing rugby.” He kissed her ear. “We’ve got an hour or so until Jodi comes home. I want to kiss you, all over preferably, and I’d like to be comfortable while I’m doing it.” He kissed her other ear. “The bed’s soft. All you’ve got to do is lie there. Do you think you could do that for me?”
His deep voice raised every single hair on her body, and she shivered. “How can you make lying there sound so dirty?”
He laughed and began to unbutton her blouse, kissing her while he did so. She continued to shiver, her heart pounding, fighting against her instincts to turn and walk out of the room. “Are you cold?” he asked, sliding her blouse off her shoulders.
“A little,” she lied, wondering if he would express concern, talk about putting the heater on or apologise for removing her clothes. He did none of those, but pushed her skirt down her legs, then stood facing her, a little smile on his lips.
He brushed her taut nipples with his thumbs. “So you are.”
She blinked, inhaling as he slid his fingers between her thighs. It was only to unpop the buttons of her body, however, and she suddenly realised what he was going to do.
“No!” She crossed her arms over her breasts, stopping him from removing the lacy body.
He stepped back and stripped off his T-shirt, then came back to put his hands on her hips and murmur in her ear, “I love your underwear, but I want to feel you against me.”
“I can’t…”
He kissed her for a while and then said, “Of course you can. I’ll help.” He unclipped her stockings, then took the bottom of the body in his hands.
“Ash…”
“Trust me,” he said.
She hesitated, looking up at him as his dark blue eyes fixed on hers. Like chocolate, trust was not something she gave away easily. She fancied him rotten, thought he was funny and warm, adored the way her outspokenness amused rather than annoyed him, and was beginning to have a sneaky feeling she was addicted to his kisses. But trust him? How could she trust him when she still couldn’t make sense of what he did for a living?
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He kissed her lips. “Trust me,” he said again.
She looked deep into his eyes. They were the colour of the dusky sky outside the window, but clear, open, honest. He watched her, smiling a little, seemingly content to wait as the thoughts spiralled around in her head like a kite caught in the wind. Time seemed to slow, and she became aware there was more riding on this moment than mere removal of a piece of underwear. Letting him do this had other implications connected to wider issues of what she did and didn’t believe, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.
Or was it as complicated as that? He was only asking her to take her underwear off. Christ, Grace. Talk about making a mountain out of a very tiny thing.
Chapter Eleven
“Trust me,” he said for a third time, and kissed her again.
She sighed, slid off her glasses, put them on the bedside table and lifted her arms. The look of delight that lit his face was worth the frantic pounding of her heart and the possibility of passing out. He peeled the body off, lifting it carefully over her hair, and let it drop to the floor. She took off the garter belt and stockings and turned back to face him.
She went hot all over as his gaze slid slowly down her body and then slowly back up to meet hers. His eyes were hot and lusty.
“Can you take your hair down?” he asked huskily.
Grace’s cheeks grew even more warm, although she had no idea why the thought of letting him see her hair down was even more embarrassing than letting him take off her clothes. She reached up, pulled out the half a dozen pins lifting her hair off her neck and shook her head. Ash took the long brown tresses that curled like a silver fern and unfurled them, bringing her hair around her shoulders.
He slid his hands into her hair and studied her for a moment.
“What?” she asked weakly, humbled by the look of awe in his eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. He moved a little closer to her. “And I’m going to show you how crazy I am about you.” He lowered his lips, brushed them against hers and then kissed her.
He kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her, until she began to feel weak at the knees and her breasts ached for his touch. Eventually he drew back the covers on the bed, scooped her up in his arms and laid her down, quickly divested himself of his pants and boxers, and climbed on beside her. He kissed her again for a while, stroking her from breast to thigh and back again. Where his body touched hers, she sizzled, and the sensation of his warm hand sliding across her skin seemed to make her whole body throb. She wanted him inside her but he didn’t seem in any hurry.
He began to kiss down her neck. He paid some attention to her breasts for a while, licking and nibbling and making her sigh, and then carried on down over her stomach to her hips, and finally positioned himself at the end of the bed.
“Um…” she said, sitting up.
He pushed her back. “Do as you’re told for once in your life.”
She lifted herself onto her elbows. “Don’t boss me around.”
“This is my bedroom.”
She thought about it. “That’s true.”
He kissed up her thigh. “Do it for me.”
“For you?”
He kissed just above her pubic hair. “Yeah. Put up with it for me.”
She tried not to smile. “Lie back and think of England?”
“Whatever country works for you, hon
ey.”
She studied him. It had been an age since anyone had done this for her. Literally, an age. An epoch. An era. Creatures had evolved and walked upright since a man had performed oral sex on her. Still, she hesitated. She’d erected plenty of barricades over the last four years or so, barricades that no man had come close to breaking down. And here was Ash, gradually dissolving her fears like salt in warm water, the solution to all her anxieties.
He kissed her pubic hair, and Grace sighed and flopped back on the bed. Having a Viking god go down on you had to be fairly high up on the list of Things To Do Before You Die. She was only human. And judging by the determined look in Ash’s eye, she was only delaying the inevitable anyway.
“Good girl,” he murmured, moving her legs up, getting comfortable.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a year eight st—fuck!” The word was out before she could stop it, as he brushed his warm tongue right through the heart of her.
“Oh yeah,” he said in approval. “I want to hear more of that.”
“One swear word is all you’ll get from me,” she said, raising an arm across her face, her cheeks burning.
“We’ll see about that.”
He proceeded to test her self-control more than it had ever been tested before, licking and sucking her soft folds, sliding his tongue inside her, then replacing it with his fingers as he concentrated on the most sensitive spot on her entire body, using his teeth and tongue to bring her to the edge of climax.
“Oh God…” Grace shivered as he slowed his tongue, drawing out the moment for her. “Ash…”
He gave a murmur of appreciation, flicking his tongue lightly, sliding his fingers slowly in and out of her.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Ash…”
He ignored her and kissed one inner thigh, then the other, before returning his lips to nibble at her centre.
“Sh…” Biting back the swear word, she screwed up her eyes as she came, tightening around his fingers, conscious of his warm tongue and lips teasing her further and further to oblivion. Fireworks exploded, the orchestra reached a crescendo, waves crashed on the beach, and suddenly she understood exactly why those images had become clichés.
An Uncommon Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 1 Page 10
