Chapter 21
WAR
I told her to come with me, and she did . Against Trick’s advice and her own better judgment. I forced her to make a choice, and she chose this. Me. Nothing else that happens between us will matter more.
Which doesn’t mean I’ve gotten everything I want. I won’t be satisfied until I’ve tasted her skin. Her mouth. Between her legs. Until I’ve been inside her and made her come and come myself.
More than once.
Without makeup, huddling in a truck’s cab that swallows her up, Ashling looks as young and innocent as they all make her out to be.
I know she’s not. She’s seen too much. Has too many bad actors in her orbit for that innocence to be real.
Hell, she drops bodies like a fucking villain.
A fact that keeps slipping my mind because she looks like such an angel sometimes.
I pull into the parking lot of the Wolfram Hotel in Boston.
“Here?” The surprise in her voice draws my attention.
“What were you expecting?”
“Motel Six. ”
“Why?”
“You seem comfortable when accommodations are… rough.”
“Because I didn’t panic when I woke up on a dirt floor? You took that as me enjoying squalor?”
“I don’t know you.”
“Well, now you know one thing more than you did before. The rolls of cash I’ve made working for C Crue?
I don’t mind spending them if the cause is right.
” I get out, walk around and open the passenger door.
When I take the duffle and then lift her off the seat and set her on the ground, she looks up at me.
“Why do you do that?”
“What? Pick you up?”
She nods.
“Pick a reason. It’s probably on the list.” I slam the door shut and click the fob to lock it.
Taking her right hand with my left, I rub her fingers to warm them before interlacing our digits together. Then, I lead her into the hotel and through the swanky ivory and honey-colored lobby.
We pass the honey- and pink-marble-topped bar that’s hopping to reach a sliding glass door with the words Wolfram Suites etched on it. The quiet engulfs us as soon as the door slides closed behind us.
A concierge sits at the black marble desk in front of a private elevator. He rises and presses the button. “Welcome again, Mr. McCann. Let us know if there’s anything you need.”
“Hello,” Ash says, looking him over and taking in his designer suit and purple paisley silk tie. It’s flashy, so the girl probably loves it.
“Good evening, Miss. Welcome to The Wolfram.”
“Thanks. I’m excited to check out the suites. I’ve been to The Wolfram in New York a couple of times. My family likes that one a lot.”
“Very glad to hear it. Your first time here?” the guy asks.
“Yes. We live in Boston, so we usually don’t need a hotel.” She trails off, blushing when she realizes what she’s just admitted. “I don’t live in Boston right now, though. Not anymore. College in Foxgrove.”
“Exceptional school,” he says, reaching out to hold the elevator door for us once it opens.
When we’re in the posh elevator with the doors shut, my small smirk causes her to roll her eyes.
“You don’t bring prostitutes here, do you? If he thinks I’m a prostitute, I will kill you.”
“I’ve never stayed here.”
“He said, ‘Welcome again.’”
“Yeah, he meant from when I checked in earlier tonight.”
“Oh.” She nods, then chews on the corner of her lip. “But when you left to get me, he would’ve noted it. What did you say about that?”
“Nothing.”
“He could think I’m your girlfriend.” Tapping her thumb against the oak bead-board, she shrugs. “Guess it doesn’t matter if he thinks I’m a prostitute. Who would he tell?”
“No one would mistake you for a pro,” I say dismissively.
“No?”
“Look how you’re dressed. And no face paint. Casual clothes. Not sex on a stick, the way a high-rent pro would doll herself up to meet a john.”
“Maybe this is the experience you asked for. Maybe I’m supposed to look fifteen because you’re a creepy pedophile.”
I laugh. “Hitting me with all your charm as usual.” Using a key card, I open the suite. It’s far more than we need for a night, but I got it anyway. When I see the look on her face, I know why.
“This is really beautiful.” The girl runs her hand over a velvet chair in the entry way. It’s a yellow color that’s probably called something like goldenrod. “I love this color yellow.”
“Of course, you do.”
“Of course I do? ”
“Sunshine’s your vibe.”
“Oh… Yeah, I guess it is. What’s yours? Thundercloud gray? Pitch black?”
“Yes.”
She smiles briefly, then walks down the two steps of the sunken living room and stops under a yellow chandelier.
Staring up at it with the curved teal couches surrounding her in a ring, she says, “I love this suite. I should decorate my dorm room like this.” After licking the corner of her lip that used to be bruised and swollen from the kidnapping, she adds, “If I go back to GU.”
Ash is coming back because she needs to live where I live. But that’s a discussion for later.
I left the sound system on when I went out to get her, so music plays in the background.
Something low and wordless, just a pulse of bass and the shimmer of synth.
Not my jam at all, but it works for this.
With her, I’m not gonna start out hardcore the way I usually do.
Most of the time, sinister metal music is part of the initiation.
If a woman doesn’t like it, she can leave and not come back.
But I won’t risk that with this girl. The trial by fire will come. But not now. Not yet.
After walking over to the pocket doors that lead to the bedroom, I open them.
Someone has been in the suite since I left to fetch her. There are red rose petals scattered over the floor and the gold bedspread. Half a dozen flameless candles flicker around the room.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “Before you get the wrong idea, I didn’t order this.” Turning, I find her leaning against the doorway, all big blue eyes and pink-bubblegum-colored lips.
“You must have ordered some kind of package. Roses are expensive. They wouldn’t just throw flower petals around for the hell of it.”
“I booked a suite. Period. Did not check the special occasion box on the form. ”
She shrugs. “Maybe a glitch. Well, it’s nice anyway. Here’s hoping they don’t up-charge your card.” Winking at me, she smirks.
I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the curtains are open and all of Boston is spread out like a living map below. There’s a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, sweating, and beside it, two glasses already waiting.
Drawing the curtains closed emphasizes the shadows.
Ash waits with a stillness one doesn’t often find in her.
A wave of satisfaction courses through me. She’s here. And for the night, she’s all mine. The most beautiful of girls.
Beyond the windows, far below us, there are hundreds of men, thousands maybe, who have seen her somewhere and wanted exactly what I now have. An opportunity to touch her. To strip her naked and stare. To fuck her.
Normally, I don’t give much thought to whether other men envy me. There are probably some who wish they were as ripped as I am. Or working a job that comes with power and riches like being a Crue member does. But that normally never enters my mind.
On the other hand, every time I’m with this girl in public, I feel the competition.
The ragged hunger. Testosterone dripping like sweat in an overheated gym.
Seems like every man wants the same thing.
And me? I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to stop them from getting it.
Because I don’t just want her. I want her all to myself.
I toss the keycard on the nightstand and sit in a teal velvet chair to remove my boots. Ash gathers up a handful of the strewn flower petals and buries her nose in them.
After shrugging off my coat, I pull off my sweatshirt. Bare-chested, I sit back in the chair. Her eyes rove over my torso and tats.
“Your turn,” I say, and it’s not a question.
ASH
I swallow, my mouth suddenly as dry as chalk. This is something I should be ready for, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen me nearly nude before. I guess it’s different because, this time, getting to see the goods is a preamble to a hell of a lot more.
My hands don't shake, but my heart pounds. I barely hear the music now.
Because he’s such a force normally, I expect him to push me. Instead, he studies me as though he’s memorizing every inch. The scrutiny makes me want to shiver.
Shucking off my coat, Ugg boots, and tights does cause me to shudder. The room’s a comfortable temperature, but I’m still acclimating. Rubbing my hands together to warm them, I exhale slowly.
“If you’re cold, come here. I’m hot enough for both of us.”
“In more ways than one,” I murmur.
It’s the first time I’ve ever complimented him on his looks, and I’m not even sure if that registers, since his expression doesn’t change. My body is all that seems to interest him.
Catching the hem of my dress, I peel it off. If I were more used to undressing for a guy, I would probably do it more slowly or with a little shimmy. Instead, the movement is quick and practical.
Giving myself something to do, I fold the dress.
Walking over to a round, glass table, I push aside the battery-powered candles and set it next to them. When I turn, his gaze is exactly where it’s been since he sat down. Fixed on my body.
My thumb grazes my hip bone, highlighting my understated curves. When I was younger, I liked being thin. People said I looked like a supermodel. But now that I’m older, I’m aware a round ass and generous hips are luscious.
Despite putting on four pounds of muscle in the past six months, my legs are kind of coltish. Definitely not yet as prettily muscled as a dancer’s. Which is what War was involved with before me.
Still, we’re here for a reason, and he’s not looking at me as though he thinks my body is underwhelming.
“Take off the rest.” His voice is low and rough, and it hits me like an arrow to the groin. I like his voice… And all the things that make him so over-the-top masculine.