by Pennza, Amy
She shook her head. “No. You didn’t, I promise. My mom has always been that way. She’ll meet someone new, and she just sort of drops everything and assimilates her life to theirs.” She glanced at the stage. “Maybe that’s where I learned to act. Every time she brought someone new home, I had to pretend I was okay with it.”
“What about your dad?”
“He died in a car accident before I was born.”
His heart clenched. “I’m sorry, nena.”
“It’s okay. What does that word mean?”
“Baby. Or maybe ‘babe’ in English.”
“Oh.” Her blush deepened. “And rubie…rubia…”
It was his turn to blush. “Rubiecita mía.”
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat. “My little blonde.”
She looked down. “It’s not fair. You can say anything you want and I won’t understand.”
He lifted her chin. “Then maybe we shouldn’t use words. Nena.” He tilted his head and kissed her.
18
The heat was on full blast in the truck, but Ashley couldn’t stop shivering. Smith’s kiss by the stage had been sweet—almost chaste—but it had seared her soul. When he’d pulled back, his gaze had been so intense, her knees had loosened. She barely remembered walking back to the truck.
He’d been silent most of the drive home, but he looked at her now. “You’re cold.”
“I’m f-fine.”
He watched her for a minute, then reached over and pressed the release button on her seat belt.
She jumped. “What are you doing?”
“Come over here.” He held out his arm.
“What?” She glanced at the road. “I have to wear my seat belt. It’s dangerous.”
“We’re five minutes from the house.” He pointed to the highway exit sign for Prattsville. “Now come over here.”
“It’s against the law.”
“I’ll vouch for you if we get pulled over.”
“Very funny.” She slid across the seat. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her snug against his warmth. Heat radiated off him like a furnace.
He murmured above her head. “Better?”
“Yes.” More than better. His cologne filled her lungs, and she took a deep breath so she could savor it. At the same time, warning bells rang in her head. He’d told her about his family. He’d kissed her. But he’d also made it a point to say he didn’t expect anything from her.
She needed to talk to Pia. Although Pia would just tell her to enjoy herself and damn the consequences. The problem was, it was looking more and more like the consequences would be her bruised and bloodied heart.
The familiar scenery of Prattsville flew by outside the window. They passed the shiny new Winn-Dixie lit up like the Fourth of July. There was the high school and the football field ringed by the tall stadium lights the athletic boosters had installed her junior year.
Smith tightened his grip around her shoulders as he pulled down their street. As they approached his house, a car’s taillights glared red in the darkness. Without warning, the car peeled away in a screech of tires. The scent of burnt rubber reached her.
She straightened and slid back to her side of the truck. “What was that about?”
He stopped in front of the driveway, his gaze on the departing car. Far ahead, its brake lights flared briefly as it reached the stop sign. Then it turned left and disappeared. “Probably just kids hot rodding.”
“Hot rodding?” She laughed. “Like in the 1950s?”
He looked at her, amusement in his eyes. “What did you do when you were in high school?”
“I didn’t hot rod. I can tell you that much.”
He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. “I’m glad.”
“Why is that?”
The amusement was still there, but now there was something else. “Because hot rodding usually involves necking, and the thought of some teenage punk putting his slimy hands on you makes me want to break the aforementioned punk’s face.”
Everything she knew about feminism urged her to reproach him for such misogynistic talk. Somehow, all she could manage was, “Well, you don’t have to worry. I assure you, there wasn’t a single boy in school, punk or otherwise, who wanted to neck with me.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“It’s true. I was a pretty big nerd.”
His gaze moved over her hair and face. The truck’s engine made soft popping sounds as it cooled down. Light from Smith’s kitchen spilled over them. “You’re not a nerd now,” he said in a low voice. “You’re beautiful.”
Her pulse fluttered. “What are we doing?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “What do you want to do?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Liar,” he whispered.
She let a long, slow breath. What was it Pia had said? “If you’re going to be out of there in five weeks, why not just enjoy whatever time you’ve got left?” But could she do that without getting hurt? What if five weeks from now saw her boarding a plane to L.A. with nothing but an empty bank account and a broken heart?
“Ashley,” he said. “I want you to stay.”
Her throat went dry. “Stay the night” was a lot different than “stay in Texas.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask which one he meant. But they’d slept together once. Technically, tonight was their first “date.” Being with someone meant taking things on faith. It meant uncertainty. If she set her feet on this path, she had to be okay with following wherever it led.
Even if that meant a painful destination.
He watched her with serious eyes. Now that he’d said what he wanted, he clearly wasn’t going to push her either way.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll stay.”
* * *
As Smith followed Ashley up the staircase, memories of the night he’d surprised her in the attic surfaced in his mind. That time, he’d followed her down. It was hard to say which direction he preferred. Both then and now, he had a hard time tearing his gaze away from her ass. Maybe he could record his level of horniness on a graph next time. Make a goddamn science experiment out of it.
Except there wasn’t going to be a next time—or at least not many more “next times.” One look at her face during the play tonight had told him that. Ashley Scobel might be in Texas, but her heart was in L.A. He’d never really understood the term “acting bug” before, but he did now. When she’d gazed at that stage, her sweet lips mouthing the words, she’d been transfixed. He might as well have been on another planet for all the notice she’d taken of him. If he’d felt any spark of hope about a future with her, seeing her in front of that stage had snuffed it out.
And that was a good thing. It was the best thing. For both of them. In their own ways, they were each at a crossroads. She was eager to get back to her career, and maybe tonight had helped rekindle her passion. As for him…
Aside from Juan and a handful of therapists, he’d never shared his PTSD with anyone. No one else knew about his nightmares or his panic attacks. Over the past two years, he’d isolated himself because he’d believed no one would want him as he was. So much of his military career had centered on being the best at everything. The strongest, the bravest, the most skilled. The nightmares had taken most of that from him. So he’d shut down. Hell, he’d even moved to the middle of nowhere.
Then Ashley had arrived on his doorstep—if not literally, then pretty damn close. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that more than sex had passed between them this morning. He wasn’t going to say the sex had healed the dark spots on his soul. That was the kind of hippie crap therapists liked to talk about.
But it had been more than sex. He knew that much. Whatever it was, it was a gift.
And he intended to enjoy it for however long he had her.
At the top of the stairs, she faced him, a hesitant look on her face. “Where—”
“Your room.”
For a second, he imagined he saw hurt in her eyes. Then she turned and moved down the darkened hallway, and the moment passed.
Did she know how amazing her ass looked? Or that he wanted to tear off her little dress with his teeth? The style didn’t allow a bra. If he’d been unsure before, the drive home had confirmed it. Her nipples had poked against the fabric like two little daggers.
He loved her dress.
As far as he could tell, the damn thing fastened with nothing more than a tie around the back of her neck. Tug, tug, and it would drop straight to the floor. The only thing that had stopped him from trying it downstairs had been Deuce bumping around their legs as they’d come through the kitchen. Smith had shut him in the front parlor, where he kept a second doggy bed. Deuce had given him a disgruntled look, but Smith didn’t need any distractions right now. It was taking every bit of his concentration to walk without falling on his face. He hadn’t bothered with the lights. The windows let in plenty of moonlight. Ahead of him, Ashley’s firm little ass bumped up and down with every step.
He adjusted his cock.
She entered her room and stopped beside the bed without turning around. Moonlight touched her long fall of hair, turning it silver. She canted her head down and to the side—not quite looking over her shoulder. In that form-fitting dress and those ridiculous toothpicks she called heels, she was a siren.
A hush settled over them, and it seemed the whole house held its breath.
His cock strained against the front of his pants. He hadn’t missed how responsive she’d been when he’d pressed her hands above her head and told her to keep them there. Her pupils had dilated, and she’d rolled her hips like she couldn’t help herself.
Time to test a theory.
“Take off that dress,” he said. His deep voice echoed in the quiet room.
She jumped and started to turn.
“No,” he said. “Don’t look at me, nena. Just obey.”
Her breath hitched. A wicked smile spread in his mind. Oh yes. He had her number.
He pitched his voice low. “What are you waiting for?”
Slowly, she pulled her hair over one shoulder and then worked on the knot at her nape. When she untied it, she stopped, the two ends in her hands. The clasp of her necklace shone at her nape.
“Keep going,” he said.
She lowered her arms, taking the dress with her. It fell to her waist and caught on her hips. No bra. Just like he’d thought.
“All the way.”
Her shoulders lifted as if she’d taken a deep breath, then she pushed the dress off her hips. It plopped to the floor at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her heels, necklace, and a black thong. No, a G-string. He swallowed a groan. Two thin strings curved around her hips and met just above the cleft of her cheeks. A third string—nothing more than floss, really—disappeared into the cleft of her ass. Beneath her firm little bottom, her slender legs seemed to go on forever.
Unable to stay away, he moved just behind her. Her hair was still over her shoulder, leaving the long line of her spine exposed. He stroked one finger down the gentle slope. Goosebumps rose under his touch, and she shuddered. He lingered over the tattoo in the small of her back.
She turned her head again. “It’s a broomstick.” Her tone said she was embarrassed by it.
“I know. I saw it weeks ago.”
“When?” Surprise this time.
He circled the design with his fingertip, dipped briefly between her buttocks, then returned to the tattoo. “When I pulled you over. You leaned down to get your purse and your jeans slipped.”
She’d clenched her fists when he teased at her crack. Now she pressed her palms flat against her outer thighs. When she spoke, her voice wobbled. “The whole cast got one when the network picked up our pilot. It was a stupid thing to do.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s adorable.” He reached over her shoulder, cupped her jaw, and turned her around. She’d been flawless in the unforgiving blaze of the morning sun. Bathed in moonlight, she was exquisite. A soft pink nipple peeked through the hair over her shoulder. The other trembled with her breaths. The dainty necklace passed between her breasts and dangled just above her belly button. Below it, a sheer black triangle covered her sex. He touched his fingertip to one quivering nipple.
She jerked, and her eyes slid shut for a second. “Adorable?” Her voice was a cross between a sigh and a squeak. She looked at him, doubt in her eyes.
“Adorable.” He kept his gaze on hers while he stroked the hardened peak. “Everything about you is adorable.”
“You…” She licked her lips. “You have all your clothes on.”
“Yes. Do you want me to take them off?” Because he could strip in about four seconds.
She focused on his throat. “Maybe not yet. I…kind of like it.” The room was too dark to know for sure, but if he had to bet, he’d swear she was blushing.
He pushed her hair away from her breast and fingered the other nipple. Her breath quickened, and more blood pounded to his cock. He cupped his palms under both breasts, testing their weight. The satin curves molded to his hands. “It’s okay to like it,” he said.
“I…”
“What is it?” Still cupping her breasts, he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. The tiny peaks hardened under his touch. Satisfaction shot through him.
“I’ve never done this.”
“Done what, baby?”
She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Like…tying each other up. BDSM stuff.”
Surprise almost made him laugh, but he tamped it down. Laughing would embarrass her, and he’d cut off his hand before he did that. “I don’t want to tie you up, sweetheart. Although I don’t judge people who are into that sort of thing. I’m just a little more demanding than most. In fact, you could say I’m into supply and demand.”
She frowned. “Supply and demand?”
“I demand, you supply.”
That got a laugh out of her. “Oh really?”
“Yes.” He gave her breasts a gentle squeeze. “But only in bed.”
She swayed toward him. “Only in bed.”
“Mmmhmm.” He continued thumbing her nipples. They were impossibly hard, the pink tips darkened to a deep rose. His duskier skin tone made her golden tan look pale by comparison. The sight of her plump tits in his large hands was like a lit match on his desire.
“So… You just like telling me what to do?” She said the last word on a sigh.
“That’s right. And if you don’t like something I tell you, just say so.”
“What”—she took a deep breath—“would you tell me now?”
“I’d tell you to go lie on your back on the bed.”
“And then what?”
He dropped his hands. “Ah, see that’s another thing. You have to wait for each order as it comes.”
She glanced at his hands by his sides, and annoyance flashed across her features. The wicked smile in his mind grew. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Go on. Flat on your back. Bring your ass to the edge and let your legs dangle over the side. Oh, and lose the heels.”
The instructions, issued in a precise, no nonsense tone, seemed to shock her. She looked between him and the bed. A little frown formed between her eyes.
He forced himself not to walk it back. Whatever happened next, she had to be the one who decided.
A beat passed, and she went to the bed. He let out a slow breath. Moonlight from the window streamed across the comforter. She turned sideways, one palm on the bed as she removed one shoe, then the other. Barefoot, she looked at him.
He crossed his arms. “Keep going.”
She sat, then scooted backward. The short, jerky movements made her breasts bounce and her necklace jiggle between them. He almost called off the game right then. Thank goodness for the flat front of his trousers. There was nothing less sexy than a tent pole.
She braced her weight on her palms and gave him an expectant look.
“Good,”
he said, “but that’s only halfway.”
“Halfway?”
He walked to the bed. “I told you to lie back, remember?”
She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “What happens if I don’t follow your orders?”
Ah, there it is. She’d found the rhythm of their game. He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “I might have to resort to…” He eased his thumb between her lips until he felt her tongue. “Correction,” he finished.
Her breaths beat against his fingers. She closed her lips around his thumb and sucked.
“Not yet,” he said, withdrawing it. “Right now, I want to see you. Lie back, sweetheart. Arms at your sides.”
She sank back onto her elbows, then lay flat. Her eyelashes made fans on her cheeks as she watched him through narrowed eyes. With the tiny patch of cloth between her thighs and the silver necklace teasing at one of her taut nipples, she was exquisite. Decadent.
Starting at her knees, he smoothed his hands up her thighs and grasped the strings of her panties. Some caveman instinct urged him to rip them off, but he reigned it in and slid them down like a civilized person. Women spent a lot of money on their underwear—something that had always mystified him, considering there was such little material involved.
She whimpered as he tossed the panties aside and gazed at her sex. God, she was beautiful there, with perfect pink folds that closed against a plump clit. Moisture glistened along the seam of her bare lips.
He met her gaze. “You’re wet, aren’t you? How long have you been like this?”
Her hands twitched. Thinking about covering herself?
He glanced at her knees. “Show me.”
“What?” she whispered. She’d probably meant to sound confused, but it came out perilously close to a moan.
“Open your legs and show me how wet you are.”
“I…”
“That was a demand, sweetheart.” He tapped her right knee. “Now you supply.”
“I…can’t.” Except she squirmed like she ached to follow his orders.
