22. Chapter 21
Gray
The rest of dinner with Ash’s family goes well enough. The wine helps. I’m careful not to drink so much that I’m tipsy, but two glasses later, I’m relaxed enough that I don’t jump every time Ash touches me.
His touch doesn’t bother me. Far from it.
It sends a thrill through my body every time he puts his hands on my shoulders or brushes his fingers down my cheek before pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Hell, his touches are so tender he almost has me believing they’re real.
It’s just been a while since I’ve been touched like this, and it still surprises me to find Ash’s hands on me.
I touch him back as well, but nothing overly bold. I place a hand on his forearm a few times, and once I go so far as to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes. He smiles as I let my fingers trail down the side of his face.
During dessert, Ash’s hand lands on my leg under the table and I nearly drop my fork. His thumb strokes my thigh, and my face flushes as I remember his hand creeping between my legs that night at the club.
Our other touches have been for show, a display for his family, but they can’t see his hand under the table.
He wants you. Celena’s declaration comes back to me, but I ignore it.
Ash slides his hand slowly up and down my thigh, and my body goes warm. God damn him. I put my own hand on his to stop it as I feel wetness gather at my apex. A smile crooks up the corner of his lips, and he squeezes my leg before his thumb begins to stroke again.
Mercifully, dinner ends shortly after that.
We clear the table and clean the dishes, then sit down to play Setback.
The teams are Sigga and Gunnar, me and Ash, and Petra and Inga, so Ash and I can no longer sit next to each other.
I get some relief for a couple hours as we play, and as a bonus, Ash and I wipe the floor with his family at cards.
I’m relaxed as we head down the hall to our room, until it occurs to me for the first time that we have to share a bed.
There’s a queen in the spare room, and that’s fine for just me, or if I had to share a bed with someone like Celena, but the bed looks laughably small as I try to imagine myself fitting into it with Ash’s muscled 6’4” frame.
I look around the room for another sleeping option, but there isn’t one, and sleeping out on the living room couch would raise questions.
“Shit.”
“Something wrong?” Ash asks as he rummages through his overnight bag for whatever he packed to sleep in.
“It didn’t occur to me we’d be sharing a bed. And a small one at that.”
Ash looks at the bed and shrugs. “We’ll fit.”
Of course we’ll fit. But how well? Are we going to end up ass to ass? Will I wake up with my leg slung over him?
I’m already aroused from having him stroke my thigh at dinner. This will be torture.
“I’m going to shower,” Ash says as he heads out down the hall to the guest bathroom.
I go to my overnight bag and contemplate my options. I brought my sleep shorts and a cami. I normally take my bra off to sleep, but I decide to leave it on this time.
I want to shower as well, since seven hours of driving made me feel grimy, so I wait for Ash to return. He comes back wearing a loose pair of black sleep pants and a plain white undershirt.
I’m grateful he has the shirt on. I can see a few inches of some kind of tattoo down his left upper arm, but his shirt covers most of it. His chest and shoulder look darker under the left side of the white shirt, which makes me think the tattoo covers that whole side.
Ash is already in bed when I return from showering. I wear my bra, cami, sleep shorts, and – unusually – underwear. As I suspected, the bed looks so much smaller with him in it, but I stuff my dirty clothes into a plastic bag and head over resignedly.
Ash is on his back with his hands under his head, elbows out over his pillow. I climb in under the covers and lay on my back as close to the edge as possible before I turn out the lamp.
“How was dinner?” Ash asks me in the dark.
“It was nice,” I say. “A bit nerve-wracking, but your family is very welcoming.”
“Think we convinced them we’re dating?”
“You tell me. You know them better.” I pause. “I think Inga gave me a strange look at one point, but we may have saved things by the end.”
Ash turns over in bed toward me, and I jump as his hand slides over my stomach under the sheets.
“Does it bother you when I touch you?” he asks. “You seem to flinch when I do. I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”
The heat of Ash’s hand burns right through my cami, and I force myself to breathe before swallowing hard.
“I like being touched,” I say. “It just feels strange to have you do it. I know we’re supposed to be dating, but my mind knows we’re not, so I can’t help reacting.”
Ash skooches closer on the bed, and his damn thumb starts to stroke near my navel. His hand feels huge against me, and I’m acutely, achingly aware of how close it is to the waist of my sleep shorts.
“Maybe we just need to practice,” he says. “To let your body get used to me touching you.”
His breath ghosts across my ear as his shin presses into my calf under the sheets. My mouth goes bone dry, and my stomach feels like I suddenly swallowed soda and Pop Rocks, but the warmth of his body next to mine makes me want to snuggle into him.
Ash gently tugs the hem of my cami up so he’s touching bare flesh as he continues to stroke his thumb over my stomach, and I remind myself to breathe. I should stop him, if only because this feels entirely too good, but I can’t move.
Ash moves even closer when I don’t stop him, and his hand slides higher so his thumb brushes the underside of my breast through my bra. His body is flush against mine, and I smell the musky scent of his bodywash. Air punches from my lungs as I let out a ragged breath.
“That’s it,” he whispers against my ear. “Just breathe.”
Ash props himself up on an elbow so his face hovers above mine. “We should probably practice kissing as well.”
The line is so cheesy and so obvious I want to laugh, but I can’t bring myself to call him on it.
Or to stop him for that matter. I’m paralyzed as he lowers his head, and his lips brush mine.
I lift my own head the barest amount to meet him, and Ash rewards me by pressing his lips down more firmly.
Every nerve in my body comes alive as his hand cups my breast under my cami, and I grab his forearm to anchor myself.
I feel the steely muscles and snaking veins under my fingertips.
Ash’s tongue parts my lips to slip into my mouth, and I taste the mint of his toothpaste. He deepens the kiss as his hand kneads my breast, and I can’t stop the needy moan that escapes my throat.
Ash breaks off the kiss and rests his forehead on mine. “Fuck, Gray. Don’t make noises like that, or I’ll lose what little self-control I have left.”
We’re both breathing hard.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur as I slide my hand up to his bicep.
“It’s okay,” he says. “We just have to remember why we’re doing this.”
I swallow. “Why is that again?”
Ash pulls his hand out of my cami to grip my hip instead. He moves his mouth to my neck, and I arch my head back to give him access as he begins to kiss and lick down my throat. Each spot he touches sends off fireworks in another part of my body.
“We’re just letting you get used to my touch, so we can sell the fake dating thing,” he says between kisses. “We don’t want to get too intense. I mean, you don’t really want me to fuck you in my parents’ house, right?”
Both my nipples and my pussy tighten at the suggestion. I must be hearing things because his tone sounds hopeful, like it wouldn’t take much to talk him into fucking me.
“It wouldn’t be right to pull open your thighs and climb between your legs,” he goes on hoarsely, his restraint seeming to fray.
“To press my cock into your hot, wet little pussy. I know you’d feel amazing wrapped around my dick as I fucked you, baby, but I shouldn’t do that, right? Not here? Not now?”
His words send blood screaming through my body as I imagine him doing exactly as he says. His body moves gently against me, and I’m soaking wet as I finally find my voice.
“That would probably be…inappropriate,” I whisper. I’m trying to stay still, trying not to writhe in response to his own movement, but it’s nearly impossible.
“Completely inappropriate,” he agrees before nipping my neck, and I manage to stifle the moan that threatens.
Ash moves back up to my mouth and begins to kiss me again, but far from being gentle and teasing, his kisses are deep and intense.
He pulls back suddenly, and I force myself not to chase his mouth.
“Do you feel more comfortable with me touching you now?” he asks.
It takes a moment for me to recognize the sounds I hear as words, and once I do, I just want to tell him to shut up and keep kissing me. But I force myself to answer.
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should practice touching me now,” he says. His voice is full of gravel and a bit unsteady.
Ash takes my hand off his arm to guide it toward his stomach, and I shift so I’m on my side.
He presses my hand over his shirt, and I feel the firm washboard of his abs beneath.
He lifts the hem so I touch bare skin, and I’m shocked at how smooth it is.
I feel a patch of hair below his navel and a little above, and I move my hand up slowly, letting my fingers surf the swells of his abdominal muscles.
They feel especially taught, like he’s clenching them, and I move my hand higher until I reach his pecs.
My thumb brushes over one of his nipples, and he releases a long breath. The nipple is peaked, and I shift my hand toward his other pec, getting bolder in my exploration of his body.
I startle as Ash catches my hand, but he only moves it slowly back down his torso.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he whispers.
My fingers bounce over his abs again, but Ash doesn’t stop there. He pulls my hand past his navel until it rests over his groin through his pants.
My breath hitches to feel how big he is. How thick. How hard.
He doesn’t move again, his hand resting over mine over his cock, and I slowly wrap my fingers around his shaft, making him swear under his breath. I start to move my hand up and down his length through his pants, and he groans.
“Fuck, Gray,” he says, thrusting lightly against my palm. “No practice needed, baby. That feels so good.”
I swallow again. My mouth now has an abundance of saliva.
“Do you…want me to…?” I leave the offer open.
Ash groans again, but he goes still a second later and exhales. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just…I’ll be right back,” he says as he gets out of bed and heads out the door, I assume toward the bathroom.
I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees as I wait for him to return. It’s a few minutes before he comes back, and it’s not hard to guess what he’s been doing. If I knew how much time I had, I would’ve taken care of a few things myself, and now I’m envious of the relief I’m sure Ash feels.
He climbs back into bed. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my arms still wrapped around my knees. “Did I do…or not do something?”
“No, no, everything’s fine,” he insists.
I nod and lay back down. Ash leans over me again.
“I…I took things too far. I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you okay?”
I try to decide if he means emotionally or if he’s asking if I need the same kind of relief he did.
“I’m good,” I assure him. It’s a lie on both counts.
He nods. “You sure, baby?” Again, he almost sounds…hopeful?
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“Good night then.” He kisses me lightly on the forehead before he lays back down and settles in.
I don’t close my eyes.
He keeps calling me "baby." He doesn’t need to keep up the act when we’re alone, but I reason that maybe it’s just easier to stay in character all the time so he doesn’t have to think about it.
The more I consider it, the more it seems like calling me "baby" is just a matter of convenience.
I’m not his baby, after all, and I don’t want to be.
Really.