Chapter 23
WAR
W hen I wake around three in the morning, I’m alone in bed and the room is dark.
Fuck’s sake , I think, annoyed. If Ashling took off before the night was over, she’s gonna owe me another one.
Movement near the bedroom doorway saves me from having to grab my phone.
“Ash?”
“Hey,” she says, moving into the doorway.
She flips a switch, and light halos her. She’s taken a shower, and her soaked hair drips onto the shoulders of my black sweatshirt, which she’s now wearing. The bottom edge hangs to her thighs.
Ash’s slim fingers hold the collar of the sweatshirt for her nose to press against it.
Her mouth and chin are lost under the fabric as she walks to a chair near the bed and drops into it gingerly.
With a big inhale, she shudders and then pushes back and brings her knees up so she’s perching in the chair with the bottom of the sweatshirt covering her lower body and legs like a tea cozy .
“You took a shower then put clothes on that I’d already worn?”
“Not worn long, though, right? It’s clean.” Her lips rise above the collar for a moment. “Smells like you.”
“I smell like me, too. Come here.”
When she rests in stillness—unusual for her—my fingers bend toward me, beckoning her.
Unfolding herself from the chair, she flicks on a small light before joining me. There’s a soft amber glow from the lamp, low and deliberate, reflecting off the textured emerald walls.
I raise the covers, and she slides in next to me with a small smile. The air smells faintly of citrus and something warmer—Ash’s skin.
“Lose the sweatshirt.”
After a beat, she peels it off and sets it atop the covers. Then she curls in close so her damp, silky body is pressed to my side. “Don’t blame me for getting you cold and wet.”
“Not a chance.” My arm curls around her waist and pulls her even closer as I lean my face near hers.
The slow kiss that follows promises me more than sex. Not something I normally want. Turns out this, with her, is a thousand miles from normal.
Her fingers slide into my hair, slowly exploring, and drawing my lips against hers more firmly.
Then she finds the ridge. The scar.
My shoulders tighten.
She draws back, looking me in the eyes as her fingers trace the seam at the back of my skull.
“Scar? What happened?” Her slow, whispered words peel me open.
“Metal pipe.”
“Jesus. Recent?”
“Nah. Long time ago.”
Her brows pinch together. “How long?” The tone has taken on a suspicious edge .
“I was thirteen.”
“Another kid?”
“No.”
Her pretty mouth twists into a frown. “Who then?”
“Mother’s boyfriend.” Pausing, I study the glints of denim blue in her sky-blue eyes. “Gonna call CPS and report it? Little late. And way out of their jurisdiction.”
“What did she do?”
“My mother? Not much. A couple times, she brought food to the barn where I was hiding. And she kept my location a secret, I guess. When my eyesight came back, he was still living in the house though, so I took off for real.”
The slack in Ash’s jaw grows, causing her mouth to fall open.
“So, Jamie was right. When your mom came to Coynston for Thanksgiving and you were a no-show, I assumed you were just being a dick. Jamie said, ‘The kid isn’t always the problem.’ And I was like, ‘That’s you.
War’s different. He never shows up for Crue family events.
He’s an anti-social jerk.’” With a wince, she shakes her head. “Sorry.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does, though.” Pressing her lips together, she draws in a long breath. “Was that the only time?”
“That I got hit so hard I went blind? Yeah, only once.”
Her small hand grips my shoulder. “Blind… You must’ve been so scared.”
“I was concerned, yeah. Hard to make it in the world without working eyes.”
“Especially when there are adults around who want to use your head as a baseball.”
“Exactly.”
“I take it C has no idea. Because you guys were in Russia?”
“C has no idea because he didn’t make it his business to find out. He and my mother didn’t get along. She moved to New York when she was pregnant with me, and for most of my life, we were barely seen by the McCanns. ”
“Was she ever married?”
“Yeah. Married just before I was born until I was about six. I don’t remember much, except that I didn’t get hit during that time.”
“When did you go overseas?”
“I was eight when we went to Ireland. We lived there a couple of years, then did a short stint in a shit-hole outside London before we went to Russia. She couldn’t be happy in Ireland or the UK. She doesn’t like to be alone, and the guys there aren’t her type.”
“She wasn’t alone. She had a son.” Ash’s anger radiates off her in affronted waves. Her outrage is cute. “And what is her type?”
“Big, dark, violent. From the eastern block.”
“Lovely.” Licking her lips, she swallows. “How many of your scars are from her boyfriends?”
“A few. But you don’t need to throw me a pity party with black streamers. I was six feet tall at thirteen. And strong. When men came at me for ignoring their orders, I didn’t just stand there and take it. Why do you think the last guy had to resort to hitting me from behind with a pipe?”
“I don’t care how tall and strong you were; you were still a kid. She’s a nasty piece of work for not taking you to a hospital, and for not leaving a guy who blinded her son. You could’ve died or had brain damage.” She blows out a breath. “In her place, I would’ve killed that guy.”
“Probably, but you wouldn’t have been in that place to begin with. She doesn’t work, not really. After her parents stopped wiring her money, she was dependent on boyfriends to live.”
“If C had known?—”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t. And you’re not gonna tell him. Or your brother, either, because that’s a straight line of information to the other two.”
“The last time your mom came to Coynston, she stayed at C’s house. He’s letting her into his inner circle now because he cares about you and you’re part of his Crue. She doesn’t deserve that. Not without working to make amends.”
I smirk. “I was missing for a year and a half, and she never told anyone. Just trusted I would survive. If you confronted her about the time I was gone, she’d say it was my choice to take off.
And I was fine. I became cunning and dangerous, just like my grandfather and uncle.
” I rest my arm behind my head and offer Ash a mirthless smile.
“It’s in the blood, according to her. McCann men need to prove they can make it on their own, and they’re in a rush to do it. ”
“Bullshit!” The heat of her anger erupts, bringing a real smile to my lips. “You were thirteen. That’s a normal time for a kid to start exerting his independence, but no kid that age should be on their own. She’s lucky you’d didn’t end up in jail or dead. Or on drugs.”
“One of three.”
“Jesus. Jail or drugs?”
“Jail.”
“How long?”
“Four months. Robbery and assault.”
“Wow. Was it awful?”
I shrug. “It was what it was.” My thumb strokes her jaw. I’m not sure why I’m telling her these things. “Last secret,” I whisper. “And then I’m gonna fuck you again.”
“Tell me,” she says softly, her face grim.
“I did the pipe-swinger and left his bludgeoned body for her and her new boyfriend. About six months after the new boyfriend went down for it, I moved back in. Sixteen and streetwise. For that year, I paid the rent and everything else, and there were no live-in boyfriends allowed. If she wanted to see a guy, she went to his place. She and I got along better than we had in years. She didn’t scream at me.
I didn’t smash things. To hear her tell it, we get along great now that I’ve grown up. ”
Ash rolls her eyes with exaggerated disgust. “You’re not supporting her now, are you? ”
I shake my head.
“Good. To hell with her.” Her cool fingers press against my face, stroking my cheek. “When she wants money, she can beg for it. And even after an apology, I’d still make her wait if I were you.”
“I don’t care about getting an apology.”
“Really?
“ Really. ” Light casts faint shadows across the molding. “What I do want is you, sinking down onto my cock.” I roll onto my back.
“Me on top?” A little smile curves her lips. “Didn’t think you’d like that.” She sits up. “You may have to help me figure out how to move so it’s good.”
I doubt it. Some things are instinctive, and sex is one of them.
So is the way I’m drawn to her. Like a buck in rutting season when he scents a doe. The way I crave a connection with her is impossible to deny.
At the moment, it’s the only thing I want out of life.
ASH
I slide the sheet and blanket down, over War’s washboard abs and the V of hair that points to his erection. Like the rest of him, his cock is huge and intimidating. Hidden places deep inside me clench with anticipation.
After rising up, I move one knee over, so I’m straddling him.
With an arm behind his head, he watches me. It almost feels as though this is a test.
Fisting him, I run the head over me. This part of him is so smooth it glides between the seam of my lower lips. His deep intake of breath makes his chest expand, and a shiver of satisfaction courses through me. I like being able to make him feel things.
When he’s positioned at my entrance, I slide down onto him with a shudder. Pleasure mixes with something that’s on the edge of pain. Things deep inside me tighten and throb from the stretch, from the feel of him coming into contact with parts of me that no one else has ever touched. Not even me.
After a few moments, my thigh muscles cramp from trying to hold myself up, and I grimace.
“Come forward,” he says, his steady tone a combination of patience and anticipation. “Rest your hands on my chest.”
Falling forward, I land on my palms more heavily than I mean to. “Sorry."
“I’m not.”
Looking up at him through my hair and lashes, I smile.
“Rock forward and slide back. If you do it right, your clit will rub against me and, eventually, get you off.”
I rock experimentally, liking the delicious grind of my flesh against his as I take him inside.
My breath catches when he lifts to meet me, driving his cock deep so my whole lower body feels it.
With a gasp, my fingers clench him. “That is really a lot.”
“Indeed.” The corner of his mouth twitches as though he wants to give me a sinister smirk. Instead, reaching down, his hands grip my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows beside my hip bones.
“Slow and steady at first, if you want. But then faster and harder, because that’s what I want.” War pauses to rise up, putting a few pillows behind him. The new angle brings our upper bodies even closer, which I crave.
My hands move to his shoulders. His massive muscles feel good under my hands. Everything about him is so relentlessly male, and the deepest part of me finds that so attractive.
Reaching between our bodies, he touches between my legs and brings my clit into contact with the hard bone of his pelvis. It feels so good my eyes almost roll back into my head.
“Now, ride that,” he orders.
At first, I circle my hips in small movements, grinding against him.
“Hey, princess?”
My eyes fly open and up to his face.
“I’m gonna need a little more.” With a tight grip on my hips, he drags me up so I almost lose him and then drives me back down… onto him.
Digging my nails into his shoulders, I gasp out, “That’s too much… Almost.”
Ignoring my words, he continues to work me over, stretching me from the inside out and grinding me against him until everything tingles and sizzles.
Finding our rhythm makes my eyelids flutter, and my whole body catches fire. My connection to him is a living thing, swallowing me up.
War’s chest rises and falls, pressing against mine with each inhale. His hair and hard muscles feel just right against my nipples.
“Harder, baby,” he says.
War never calls me baby. He’s called me “baby doll,” but always in a tone that’s pretty condescending.
Calling me baby in his low voice during sex comes off sounding like an actual endearment, and I like it better in his low growl than I’ve ever liked it before.
Resting my forehead against his shoulder, I rise and drop back down in sharp pulses.
“Fuck, yes. Just like that, Ash.” Our eyes lock, mimicking our bodies. It’s an excruciating connection, one that aches and makes me crave it like a drug.
For as long as I can, I move in the exact same way. Over and over, until my legs cramp and my belly knots and I feel so close to coming I lose myself .
Sweat beads along his collarbone. I drop my mouth to suck the salt into my mouth. As though I’ll eat him alive.
When his jaw clenches and a vein pulses at his temple, heat pools low in my belly, and I can’t look away from the way his pupils have swallowed the color of his eyes.
I can't breathe, can’t think—there's only this moment, this guy with his incredible body and presence, and the desperate climb toward something that threatens to destroy the old me. The person I was before he and I became whatever we’re becoming to each other.
“I’m close—” The rasp in my voice causes his lids to rise.
“So, do it.”
I slow for a moment, making smaller circles until my vision blurs and the orgasm rips through me. I shudder and exhale, squeezing him so tightly inside me he groans.
Then he grabs my hips and takes over, bouncing me up and down. Our bodies slam together harder, faster, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls as his fingers dig bruises into my hips.
A violent tremor rips through him.
Then he’s coming, and I feel the satisfying warmth inside me. Filling me up.
Holding onto him with a death grip, I kiss the side of his neck until the jerk of his hips subsides and there’s only the harsh sound of his breathing left.
Collapsing, so all my weight presses against him, I suck air into my lungs, shivering from the rush.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes to all of this.”
His big hand comes to rest against the back of my head, fingers massaging my scalp and neck, which feels amazing. “Good.”