by Jo Raven
“What is it, Zane?”
“You know how it is hoping for something for so long? For years? Reaching for it even if you know you can’t have it? Measuring everything and everyone around you against that perfect original and having everything and everyone fall short? And then one day, bam, you get the original, you get what you’d hoped for.”
“And what?” Apprehension fills me. “What are you saying? That now he has me, he’ll find me lacking? That I wasn’t what he’d hoped for?”
“No. Oh fuck, I’m so bad at explaining myself.” Zane sighs. “What I meant was, what if it doesn’t work out? What if you find he wasn’t what you thought? He has you on a pedestal, Audrey. If you left him now, you’d break the fucker’s heart.”
“Zane, shut up.”
He mouth falls open.
I almost laugh aloud at his expression. “I’ve loved Ash for so long I can hardly remember a time I didn’t. Yes, he hurt me when he avoided me at school, but now I know what was going on in his life at the time, and I understand. Since I moved here, he’s been nothing short of wonderful to me, and the more I know about him, the more I love him. So, here’s the thing: I can’t guarantee that this will work out. I can’t promise I won’t break Ash’s heart or he won’t break mine. But I can tell you this: he’s everything I’ve hoped for and more.”
Zane stares at me, his dark eyes wide. His pierced brow lifts. “Hell. All right then. I’ll shut up now.”
I smile and glance again at Ash. He always draws me, gaze and mind and body. A man-sized, gorgeous magnet. I’d love to draw him as he sleeps, to pencil in the shadow of his dark lashes against his cheekbones, the clear line of his jaw, his soft lips.
As I watch him, his eyes begin to move rapidly under his lids and his body tenses. Making my way to the couch, I say, “Want to stay and have coffee with us?”
“I think I’d rather leave you,” Zane mutters. “Unless you need help moving Ash to the bed.”
“I’ll manage,” I say, sitting next to Ash and stroking his hair.
“It’s New Year’s Eve. I guess I’ll have to wish you Happy New Year right now.”
New Year’s Eve. I didn’t even realize with everything going on. “Are you guys doing something tonight?”
“You kidding me?” He runs his hands over his face. “After what happened to Ash, I don’t feel like celebrating.”
“Maybe you should. It’s going to be a great year.”
As Ash relaxes under my hand and wraps his arm around my waist, murmuring my name, I believe it.
***
I wake up curled against Ash on the sofa. We never made it to bed after all, as he was out cold and I was too exhausted to even think about moving him. Ash is a tall, heavy guy and I don’t think I can lift him.
Right now he has his arms around me and is gazing at me, his beautiful arctic eyes hooded. “Morning,” he says, the rasp of his voice raising goose bumps all over my skin.
“Happy New Year,” I say and see those bright eyes widen a fraction.
“I think...” His arms around me tighten. “I missed a few days.”
I almost laugh at that. “Yeah, you did.”
He lowers his face toward me. “I want to make up for lost time.” And he kisses me, slow and teasing, opening my mouth with the tip of his tongue, invading me.
My whole body quavers. He still smells of the hospital and I should be worried about his wounds and bruises, but like always my thoughts flee when he begins to touch me, his hand sliding down to cup my ass and knead it.
He’s still dressed in his jeans and T-shirt, but I stripped down to my flimsy pajama bottoms and a spaghetti-strap blouse last night. My breasts press against his chest and my nipples tighten. The friction sends frissons down my spine and he moans into the kiss, pressing a very healthy and large erection against my thigh.
Breaking the kiss, he tugs on my blouse, pulling it over my head, leaving my breasts exposed. In a flash, he has me on my back, leaning over me, and his gaze sparkles. His mouth tilts in the most beautiful smile and he bends to suckle on my breasts, taking his time on each one, licking and sucking until I think I’ll explode into a million tiny pieces.
He draws back and pulls off my pajama bottoms and panties, leaving me bare to his scrutiny. He brushes his hands over my legs.
Then he stops. I open my eyes that fell closed at some point and look up at him. He has sat back, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead.
“Ash?”
He presses a hand to his ribs. “I’m all right. Give me a minute.”
Shit. “You’re not all right. Just... sit down.” I scramble up and push on a solid, muscled shoulder until he relents and leans against the backrest, letting his head drop back.
“Come here,” he says and reaches for me.
Swallowing the knot of worry in my throat, I scoot closer and let him pull me to his side. “You should take it easy. Does it hurt?”
He chuckles low. It’s a nice, deep-throated sound that warms me up from the inside. “What hurts the most is how much I want you.”
He shifts and lets go of his ribs to adjust himself through the pants, drawing my gaze to the still considerable bulge at the front. The sight of it makes me feel so hot I’m about to self-combust.
I want to peel off his clothes, touch his strong body, his straining hardness. But he’s hurt and I shouldn’t. My hand trails down his side to the front of his jeans to cup the hot package there.
A groan leaves his lips and his eyes slit. “Auds...”
“You don’t have to move,” I say, unable to hold back anymore. Only Ash can make me so bold, so desperate to touch him. “Close your eyes.”
A dark brow lifts and he gives me a crooked smile that lifts my heart. “Wanna be in charge?”
“No, I...” I lick my lips. “I want to take care of you. You’re really hot, Asher Devlin, and I want to unwrap you like a Christmas present.”
His expression softens. With a sigh, he leans his head back and closes his eyes, leaving me to unbutton his jeans and pull them down, tugging them off with his underwear and socks.
I climb up beside him on the couch. Under the hem of his T-shirt I see the bandage going around his back, and the bruises. I want to make him feel good. He shivers when I wrap my hand around his cock. His mouth falls open, a breath gusting past his lips when I move my fist up and down, stroking him the way he showed me.
“I want you,” he rasps, his hands clenching at his sides. He grabs my wrist. “Auds, I need... Shit.” He lets go. “Sorry. You don’t have to—”
I bend over and draw the head of his cock into my mouth. I hear him groan as I play with my tongue underneath and then suck on his saltiness. Glancing up, I see his face twist in a grimace that looks so much like pain I have to stop.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Is this hurting you?”
“No.” He hisses when I stroke him again. “No pain.” He reaches for me, wraps an arm around me and drags me gently until I straddle him. His cock juts between us, wet and flushed dark. “Need to be inside you.”
His eyes sear through me, his desire evident. Could this work? I want him inside me, too; want the connection to believe he’s right here with me. Taking a deep breath, I rise on my knees.
“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” Ash is still holding my hips and his grip is like a vise. His brow creases. “Shit. We can’t.”
“No need.” I put my hands over his. “I’m on the pill.”
Something seems to snap in Ash then, because he lifts me and lowers me on top of his erection in one movement that has to hurt his ribs. He doesn’t seem to notice, his laser-hot gaze on my face, cataloguing every sensation mirrored there as I take him in, inch by inch. It’s an amazing sensation, knowing that he’s inside of me.
When I’m seated in his lap, full of him, he lets out a sharp breath, his teeth gritting. “Shit, Auds, you’re so tight.” He blows out air and visibly tries to hold still. “Are you okay?”
I want him to let go, not to worry about me. To let go and do what feels good for him.
And he feels amazing in my core, stretching me, stroking me so deep. I shift and he groans, arching backward. His hips roll, lifting me up, and the slight push inside sends sparks up my back and makes my nipples harden more.
I put my hands on his broad shoulders and lift myself, then again, setting a rhythm that has us both writhing and moaning. I can feel the pressure mounting, liquid fire running in my veins, the pleasure filling my head with white noise.
“Oh god. So hot... So good.” Ash’s body tenses, the muscles in his legs taut and quivering. His fingers dig into my hips but he doesn’t do anything. Letting me take charge.
Tendons stand out in his neck and he’s looking at me through his long lashes, his gaze burning.
That look sends me over the edge. The pressure peaks, the pleasure sharpens and fireworks go off in my sight.
I shake and cry out as my body clenches around him. He swears, then, and snaps his hips upward, slamming deeper into me than ever, so that my mouth opens in one more wordless cry of pleasure.
A throaty moan leaves his lips as his cock swells inside me and then jerks, rocking me with aftershocks. Sweat rolls down his temples, and his hips buck beneath me once, twice, then once more.
He finally stills, panting harshly, his frame trembling. He lifts his hands to my ribs and pulls me so I rest on his chest, my head on his shoulder, his nose in my hair.
We’re still connected, and I know it’s in so many ways more than just two bodies drawing out the last drops of pleasure.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, suddenly remembering I’m pressing against cracked ribs and bruised flesh.
“Never been better,” he says.
I turn my head to kiss the salty skin of his neck. “Sure?”
He grins. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Of that I’m sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Asher
New Year’s Day is a quiet affair. After the mind-blowing sex, I manage to take a shower and dress on my own. The dizziness is driving me nuts, but it’s slowly easing. I’m still plagued by headaches, though, and even if the doctor says it’s normal and he expects them to fade in a few days, it’s damn annoying.
At midday, Zane swings by in the company of Rafe and Dylan, bringing food. Tessa comes by as well, and Audrey’s spunky friend, Dakota, and we all settle down around Audrey’s small dining table to eat Chinese take-out.
Everyone keeps shooting me covert glances, as if expecting me to faceplant my plate of Chow Mein.
What’s even more vexing, it might happen. My eyes keep closing. Taking my painkillers before lunch was a huge mistake. They do wonders for the headache and the pain in my back and ribs, but they hit like a kick to the head.
Audrey who’s sitting right next to me seems to realize my predicament. Without saying a word, she pushes her chair back and helps me to my feet. Like a damn child. It pisses me off that I’m still so weak but I prefer crashing on a bed out of sight than on top of the food-laden table with everyone’s concerned eyes on me.
Zane comes around the table to help, as if I’m an invalid, dammit. But I can’t complain as my head becomes heavier and my legs weaker. Damn, those painkillers are strong. I decide then and there I’ll ditch them and find something lighter.
I wake up much later, a cry strangled in my throat. Damn nightmares. I was running again in the streets, a sense of danger in my bones. Audrey. Audrey was in danger.
But she isn’t here. I lie alone on her double bed, on top of her purple comforter, my mouth dry and my head pounding. Someone has thrown a yellow blanket on top of me.
It takes me a moment to remember I’m not suffering from a hangover but from a beating and knock-out painkillers.
A noise makes me turn and I find Zane leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded over his chest.
What the hell? Is he there to chew me out over something? I really can’t remember doing anything but my mind’s still fuzzy.
“What?” I grumble, pushing myself to a sitting position, wincing as aches flare just about everywhere, from my head to my sock-clad feet. “What do you want?”
“You were out, fucker, for like four hours. I stayed to make sure you woke up again.”
“It’s the damn painkillers.”
“It’s more than that and you know it. You’ve pushed yourself too damn hard. Take it easy, okay?”
“Back off, Z-man.” I throw the yellow blanket off me and swing my legs off the bed, hunching over. “I don’t need to take it easy.”
“You.” In two strides he’s in front of me and in my face. “If your medication is not good we’ll see about changing it. But you will rest and take your time because I’m not losing another brother, fucker.” He jabs a finger at me. “You hear me?”
Fear is stark in his eyes and I can only nod meekly. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
“Where’s Audrey?”
“She went out with the others to get some ice-cream.”
“And you stayed behind to babysit me, huh?”
“Damn right. Nothing wrong with that.”
It still irks me, but I understand why. “I’m fine. Go have ice-cream or whatever it is you wanna do. I’ll be okay on my own.”
He hesitates. “You sure?”
Huh. For Zane to even consider my proposal, it means he’s dying to go. “Yeah, man.” An idea hits me. “That Dakota chick... You dig her, right?”
Zane shuffles his feet and his mouth tightens. “None of your business.”
“Seriously, man? I bet you’re dying to see her licking ice-cream off the cone, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you, Ash.”
I grin because I know I have him. “Go. I said I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Motherfucker.” Zane gives me the finger and turns to go, but not before I see the flash of relief in his eyes—because I seem better or because he’ll go see Dakota do obscene things to her ice-cream cone, I’m not sure.
Knowing Zane, probably both.
I hear the door click behind him and I frown. The sense of danger from the nightmare lingers. What am I missing?
Then it hits me, knocking the air from my lungs. Not just a dream. The fight club. Will they come for me again once they realize I’m still alive? Will they come for Audrey? I’ve put her life in jeopardy.
What can I do? I fist my hands in my short hair and groan. Going to the police about my attackers can only make things worse. They’re mafia. They’ll know, and any chance of making it out of this mess alive will be over.
No, that would mean putting Audrey into even more danger. Audrey and Zane and everyone who cares about me.
Okay, Ash, think.
I have to talk to Johnny, ask what he wants to leave my friends alone, go down on my knees if needed. In my mind, it’s the least I can do in return for all they’ve done for me.
***
New Year’s Day. A brand new year, a brand new start.
It all sounds sarcastic in my head, so I try to focus on the street I’m crossing. I felt as close to okay as possible when I left Audrey’s apartment, but now I feel as if I’ve run a marathon. Sweat drips from my face, despite the cold, and I have to stop and rest, braced on a building wall. My head spins.
No matter. I have to do this. It’s too important a task to fail because I feel like roadkill.
Today’s the fight tournament in The Bulldog. I count on that to find Johnny. Getting a chance to talk to him without a repeat of last time—that is, without him sending his goons to kill me—will be tricky, and my aching head isn’t exactly a fountain of original ideas.
By the time I approach the club, I’ve decided what to do. I lurk outside a cafe nearby, pretending to check messages on my cell, leaning on a gnarled tree trunk. God, it’s cold.
Minutes pass. I keep an eye out for anyone approaching the club and clench my jaw to keep my teeth from rattli
ng.
Then I see one of the fighters I met a few days ago—has it been only a few days?—and I step into the street to intercept him.
“Massimo.” I wait until a faint light of recognition flashes in his gaze. “Can you give a message to Johnny for me? It’s urgent.”
“Why don’t you give it?”
Yeah, about that... “I had a run in with Carl. He’d better not know I’m here.”
He chews on that; seems to find it reasonable. “Okay. What is it?”
“Tell Johnny I’ll be waiting here. I haven’t come to fight; just to talk.”
He nods and goes into the club, leaving me with sweaty palms and a heart going into overdrive. Nothing can stop Johnny from sending Carl and his men against me once more, and I’m not in a shape to fight back this time.
The minutes stretch. Shit, this is a crappy idea. I shouldn’t have come, not so soon after getting beaten up. I should have waited until Johnny’s anger fades. I should have—
The heavy metal door of the club opens and Johnny comes out. He climbs up the steps to the street, glances around and spots me.
He’s alone. That seems as good a sign as any.
I push off the building wall and wait for him to join me in the shadows.
“What’s up, kid?” He actually grins at me, and that throws me off. Then he takes a better look, squinting from under bushy brows, and his smile falls. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Are you kidding me?” I realize my hands are clenching into fists and force them open. “Carl and your men happened to me. Sliced me open. Said I set the cops on you when they came looking for me.”
He whistles. “That wasn’t a smart move, kid. I swear I didn’t know about this, but always keep the cops out of here.”
“The cops came looking because Dad was found dead and I was AWOL. Someone saw me enter the club and reported it.”
“Damn, Ash. Told you to leave the club. That kind of life ain’t for you. You’re a good kid. Could be a great fighter, fighting legally. Jake, bless his soul, trained you well.”
