by Kira Blakely
His smile made her groan. “You didn’t.”
“Nope.”
“You do know you can’t keep on like this? You obviously have a thick skull, but eventually it might get busted beyond repair.”
“I’m going to handle it.”
“How?” She held up a hand. “Never mind. I am not about to get into that with you. If I…look I don’t want to press you.”
She didn’t. It came back to her that he had the same tendency to leave behind anything that got too complicated that she did. She’d always been proud of her ability to walk off from anything and anyone, and she had no doubt that he felt the same pride in that ability. Pressing him might just make them too much for him to take, and, more than anything else, she wanted to spend whatever time with him she could.
Oh, it would end. She knew that. But if she played it right, they could both walk away when it was time, and neither of them would get anything more than some pleasant memories as a result. Why fuck it up by pushing him to press charges on a guy he obviously was not interested in pressing charges against?
Ashton visibly relaxed. Laura managed a long breath, quiet and slow. He said, “It’s a personal thing, so I appreciate that.”
“No problem.” She laid a hand on the bed – not on his, but close enough that if he chose to he could reach the hand not covered in IV lines and bandages out and take hers.
He did. His fingers brushed across hers, and he said, “Anyway, I am really sorry about missing our date.”
The nurse stuck her head in and announced visiting hours were over. Ashton waved her out. He said, “I think they’ll let me go tomorrow or so. But if not, how about coming and keeping me company after you get off work?”
“Sure. I’ll smuggle you in a pizza or something.”
His eyes danced. “I really have to know how you’re going to hide an entire pizza box.”
Laura said, “Oh, I was planning on walking right past the desk with it like I had every right to. You ever notice if you act like whatever you’re doing is cool, nobody ever objects?”
Ashton chuckled. “You have a point. People never question others who act like they have every right to be doing whatever it is that they are doing.”
She wanted to kiss him, but the nurse had come back. She stood in the doorway, tapping an impatient foot and clearing her throat loudly. Laura said, “I think that’s my cue.”
Ashton said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she echoed, and headed for the door.
Ashton
ASHTON DID GET OUT OF THE HOSPITAL the next afternoon. He called Laura and arranged to have his stuff picked up from his apartment. He’d have to pay the rest of the lease and that was okay, but that beat down from Gerald had opened his eyes to some hard truths.
His ugly past was never going away, not even if he left the hood, but he didn’t belong there anymore. Laura’s face when he told her about sleeping with his foster mom, and the words she had said to him about that, had loosened a hard knot in him, one he had never been able to release. Her words had made him take out a lot of the past and examine it closely, see it through new eyes, and while most of it was still ugly and awful, he could see where much of what he had done had been based on a need for survival and how those things had led him to be the man he was right then.
It also struck him that he had refused to give anything but his body and a few nights to any woman, because hard experience had taught him that he could measure his self-worth by the amount of pleasure he could bring a woman. That was exactly how he weighed himself, too – by how hard he could make a woman come – but once that conquest had been made, he had always run away. Of course, he had. He’d always been afraid that once that wore thin he’d be rejected by whomever he was with.
He’d slept thanks to the pain killers, but he had always jolted awake again thanks to the constant noise and the nurses who came in to wake him to find out how he was sleeping, something that both irritated and amused him, and as Dawson drove him toward the hotel where Ashton had reserved a room, he was tired and sore.
Dawson dropped him off, and Ashton stared around at the luxurious room – thick carpeting, marble surfaces, deep leather sofas, and a king-sized bed covered with fine linens.
This was his world now. He had the money to be there, but deep down he wondered if he even deserved that. The app that had made him rich had been a lark and fun, but he had never thought it would make him rich. He had also never considered that he might hurt people with it, that it was unfair to women and slanted in favor of men. Now that he knew that, he was glad it was gone and that he had nothing else to do with it.
The hole under the floor was always there, Ashton thought as he settled himself down onto a sofa, wincing as his ribs gave off a low throb of pain. There’s always been a hole under his feet, and he’d always dropped straight down into it.
He could recall with bitter clarity the day his mother had led him into the social services office. The sterile and cold room. The long face of the social worker who’d asked a series of blunt questions he had not understood at the time. The horrible sinking feeling as he was led into a room and left alone while his mother escaped from him.
The first family that had taken him in and then given him back because he cried too much. The days he’d spent at the adoption fairs, trying to be as funny and charming and happy as possible so somebody would want him. The hurt of being passed over or ignored.
Going from place to place, something always happened to send him packing.
Ashton had not cried since he’d been a small child, but just then a single tear rolled down his cheek. How could he deserve to be rich, to be happy? How could he possibly believe that he deserved a good life and a good woman when everything in his experience had shown him that he didn’t?
Laura had him thinking about a lot of things he was not sure he wanted to think about, like having something real and meaningful.
She was a hell of a woman. He thought that every single time he thought of her. But she was also a woman who didn’t want a relationship, and one who had no idea that he had money.
There was a problem. Lexie didn’t even know about his fortune. Dawson had always respected Ashton’s wishes that nobody would know about his money, and so Lexie could not possibly tell Laura, but she would have to know sooner or later, and he wondered if that would drive a wedge between them.
He had seen Dawson struggle with women who wanted him for his money and nothing else. The women who lived in the fancy houses and expected him to fuck them before going outside and cutting their grass had taught Ashton that women were willing to do anything to keep the money they had married into.
How could he trust Laura to be any different?
He got up and walked to the little mini bar, but he didn’t pour a drink. The strong painkillers might kill him if he mixed alcohol in with them, and he knew it.
He paced the room. After a few turns, his head began to ache and he sat back down.
He could see his reflection in a nearby mirror, and he winced. He had one hell of a black eye, and there was a large bruise on his left cheek. His head hadn’t been busted after all; the bleed the doctors thought they had spotted on his scans had proven to be not a bleed after all, and the concussion, while serious, was manageable.
The ribs were the worst, and they’d take a while to heal. Ashton didn’t like feeling helpless or sick, and he was restless as well as tired just then.
His phone rang. He took it out and saw Laura’s number on the screen. A smile crossed his lips as he answered with a cheery, “They released me. I’m free!”
Her laughter was a cure for his troubled thoughts and spirit. “Awesome. I was going to ask. So, are you okay?”
“I am.” He added, “I’m in a hotel though, thanks to Dawson.” It was partially true. Dawson had driven him there. He didn’t want to lie to Laura. He wanted to be as honest with her as he wanted her to be with him, but that distrust he held kept h
im from being able to. “It’s probably a good thing. I’d hate to get my skull busted again and so soon.”
That was all true. He had had a lot of time to think about that fact the night before. Gerald had a lot to be angry about. His father going to jail had taken whatever luster Gerald had in the hood. He had been reduced to trying to get a few side hustles and calling in favors, but he was a joke in the hood. Gerald was a coward, and everyone knew it. He never got into a one-on-one fight, and sneaking up on Ashton while his back was turned and Gerald had a pipe in his hand just showed what a coward he was. But Gerald being a coward didn’t make him any less dangerous. New worries sprang up. Laura didn’t live in the hood, but what if Gerald found out where she lived?
“Yeah, me too.” Laura said, then she fell silent. His heart beat picked up. Below the dry tone of her voice lay real concern. Maybe they might have a chance at something, but what?
He said, “So, how are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, all things considered.” He managed to inject a note of cheer into his voice. “It only hurts when I laugh or cough.”
“Then I’d advise you not to do either.”
He laughed. Laura said, “Shit,” and he laughed harder, one hand going to his ribs to try to stem the ache there. When he quit laughing, he said, “Are you busy tonight?”
“Not at all.” A long pause. Then, “Would you like some company?”
“I’d love it. I owe you dinner, so how about room service?”
“Oh, room service, is it? Fancy?” There was laughter bubbling up in her voice. “I’ll take it.”
“Great. What time?”
Laura said, “Well I am sitting in my car in the parking lot, so if you’re closer to my job than my place now might be a good time to know that.”
“I’m at the Swaros.”
“I don’t know where...oh wait, is that the big one downtown? The one by the park?”
“Yup.”
“Okay that’s not far from me. Would it be okay if I came now, or do you need to rest or something first?”
“Now’s great.” His voice dropped a little. His body, despite being battered, was awash in desire. He didn’t know how he was going to manage to make love to her, but he knew that he wanted to.
They hung up and he stood, making his way to the bathroom. He needed a shower. He couldn’t get the bandages around his ribs wet, but he would figure out a way to get clean. He smelled like blood and the astringent hospital odor, and he wanted that gone before she got there.
The shower – a massive thing made of marble and cultured tile – had a bench in it. Ashton muttered, “Well, here’s to hoping I don’t accidentally somehow turn my bandages into some kind of mummy wrapping,” and disrobed.
He caught sight of his body in the mirror and paused. His face was bad. His body was worse. His heart raced so hard he could feel the dangerous quickness of its pace in his ears.
He’d had worse, sure. But the sight of the ugly bruises – black and blue and turning yellow and green in spots – brought home to him again that he didn’t want his old life anymore. His fingers dropped to the scar on his abs, the old scar that had come from a knife a rich guy had cut him with, and a fight that had caused he and Dawson to nearly lose the friendship that had been all either of them had ever had to depend upon.
That life needed to be done. He knew that. The boy he had been and the man he had become needed to grow up a lot. It was time for him to try to be a better man, and he knew that, too.
The question was, who was he going to be, and how was he going to be that better man?
He had the money to buy himself a great place, sure, but he knew all too well that a nice house didn’t make a person better.
As he showered carefully, he thought about that. He found himself wondering how many women that app he and Jackson had made had hurt. That was an uneasy thought, but he thought about it anyway.
It wasn’t cool the way they had set it up. He knew that now. There was no way to fix it since he no longer owned it, but what if he created an app with Laura that was less sex-centric and more focused on helping people find actual dates?
Maybe he could help make the world a better place in some way. Wouldn’t that be a change?
Laura
“Maybe I should dash home and change.” Laura looked down at the outfit she’d worn to work that day. She had on a rather sedate blouse in a pretty cream color and a set of dark slacks that emphasized her long legs but didn’t cling. That was accessorized by a wide belt and a pair of boring loafers. Hardly the stuff of seduction.
Not that it was likely Ashton could be in any shape for seduction.
A wry grin twisted her lips, and she quickly dug around in her handbag. She had a small can of dry shampoo and she sprayed it into her hair because she hadn’t washed it that morning, then she quickly brushed her tresses with quick hard strokes. A fast application of deodorant, a short burst of perfume, and a hasty rinse with a trial-sized bottle of mouthwash followed by a quick flossing had to do.
Laura quickly reapplied her lipstick and a thin line of eyeliner over the faded liner already on her wide and long upper lid and a dash of fresh mascara, and she was done. The five minutes of grooming made her feel much better, and she cranked her car and headed out of the parking garage, groaning when she saw the heavy flow of traffic streaming down the avenues.
She took a right. Downtown was massive – set between four highways that led to the suburbs on three sides of the city and the industrial parks on the eastern side of the city. Traffic was congested and the noise near deafening. As she sat in her car, fiddling with the air conditioner to get the temperature to one she could bear, Laura had to admit that the traffic was something she could live without.
The traffic back home had been an occasional back-up around the local strip mall. She grinned as she recalled how often she’d cursed that mild traffic and how many times she had thought that that traffic was the worst thing in the entire world.
She finally got to the hotel. The lobby was huge and gracious, and the elevator whisked her up nearly twenty stories before she landed on the floor Ashton’s room was situated on. He opened the door wearing a smile, a pair of jeans undone at the top, and the heavy bandages around his ribs. His hair was soaked and still uncombed. The scent of soap and cologne wafted to her nose, turning her senses to him.
She shouldn’t sleep with him. It was dangerous to sleep with him. She already had some emotions tied into him that frightened her, and she knew it. The bandages gave her pause. Just then, he stepped forward and her body went right to his. She hugged him gingerly and their mouths met. That kiss was raw and passionate, it invoked all the things she wanted to say, wanted done to her body and to do to his.
She closed the door with her foot. Ashton muttered, “Jesus Christ you’re going to kill me.”
She muttered back, “I’ll try not to.” Their bodies moved toward the bed, their fingers working on each other’s buttons and clothing. Her arms locked around his neck, and their bodies swayed together.
Ashton stepped across the floor and she went with him, her legs tangling up into his. His hands ran up and down her body, sending more thrills along her skin. Her nipples went rock hard and tight. Her belly filled with butterflies of anticipation.
She breathed, “Shit, your ribs. What if we do something to hurt them?”
“Fuck them,” Ashton muttered.
“I don’t know that position,” she retorted, earning a brief laugh.
He said, “The worst that could happen –”
“Is that we do something to cause one of them to pop a lung or something and have to call an ambulance,” she gasped as his mouth found her neck, and then his fingers went to her breasts, rubbing them hard through her blouse.
“They’d think I was a lucky guy,” he muttered, “Besides, as long as we don’t lay down, I think we’ll be okay.”
“Don’t lay down?”
His mouth was still on hers, robbing h
er of her ability to think or breathe. Her fingers tangled in his hair and his mouth devoured hers yet again, sending all thoughts of his ribs tumbling right out of her head.
His mouth never left hers. His fingers teased at her nipples through her blouse and bra. A button flew off her blouse, and she made use of what skin she could safely touch, letting her hands wander across his steely abs and dark-brown nipples.
Their mouths broke apart, their tongues untangling. Her tongue went to his ear and then to his neck. He shuddered once, then growled out, “Damn woman, I can’t even think of anything but how much I want you.”
All she could think of was how much she wanted him, so she figured that they were even. She knew they shouldn’t, not as injured as he was, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him and trying to get closer while not hurting his abused body. It was a delicate balance, and she was terrified one wrong move would totally destroy the mood but he didn’t seem to notice his aches and pains just then.
His breath came back, blowing against the wetness that his tongue left behind, and she squirmed and cried out, her fingers digging into his thick hair.
Her whole body arched and trembled. Her pants were down around her ankles and his hands were running across the front of her damp panties, testing the moisture there and then pressing the scrap of lace into her cleft, massaging her clit through the material.
Her ass jerked forward. Her feet flexed, and she lifted herself up and down, trying to ride his fingers as he teased her stiffened bud. His fingers pressed harder. Her cries were no longer muffled; they were loud and clear in the silence. The soaked panties were chafing her vulva, rubbing against her labia, and she felt her lips parting for him.
More fluids trickled and ran into her panties, but then he yanked them down, bringing the scent of arousal to her nostrils. Her fingers dug deeper into the flesh of his shoulders as he pressed against her.
