Chapter 13 Ashton
ASHTON
I will never ever be a morning person.
Nope. Not happening.
—Ashton’s Secret Thoughts
Istep out of the shower onto the heated marble floor the next morning, thoroughly enjoying the little luxury while the rest of me feels I’ve been run over by a train.
And not just a little one-car, half-assed one either.
Nope. This sucker had about fifteen cars and a caboose, and they were all heavy as hell and chugging along at full speed.
Dramatic—yes.
Wrong—not so much.
Even the eucalyptus that hangs in the shower, because of course Jameson Murphy has a cleaning staff that actually hangs fresh eucalyptus in the shower, does little to soothe me.
“Ashton . . .” Jamie calls out from the other side of the bathroom door, having apparently let himself into my room, the ass, and I throw on my robe.
As much as I wanted to roll over and bury my head under the pillow when I woke up, I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, hoping to give myself a few minutes alone before Kyrie woke up.
Just a few minutes of silence. I’m not sure if it makes me selfish, but I swear to God, if Jamie is standing on the other side of this door with her in his arms, I might actually cry.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, thankfully alone, as I crack open the door and watch the steam billow out into the bedroom and smack him in his handsome face.
“That depends,” I tell him, rolling my lower lip between my teeth. I swear I never used to think that old tees with the sleeves ripped off and gym shorts could be sexy, but that was before I saw them on him.
This giant jerk might just force me to eat my words.
It’ll be the only thing I’m eating, but still . . .
“On what?” he asks, his mouth tipping up into a sexy, crooked grin.
“I was going to say on whether or not you were holding Kyrie in your arms.” Shock settles in his shamrock-green eyes. “I really just need a few more minutes of calm before my head can handle her levels of squealing.”
Those eyes darken as he takes two steps closer, and I take one back, like a dance between us . . . the dance of avoidance.
Only this isn’t a stage, and there isn’t room for a pas de deux.
The backs of my knees hit the vanity, blocking me from going further, as Jamie’s big hand sifts through my damp hair and cups the back of my neck.
What the hell are you doing is on the tip of my tongue until I melt under his touch because Jamie Murphy is massaging the base of my skull, and it feels so damn good.
I close my eyes and drop my head to his chest and don’t even care that I’m leaning against him so long as those fingers don’t dare stop what they’re doing.
“Nah, Ace. I just checked on her, and she’s still sound asleep.
The trainer isn’t coming for another hour so I can get her up and fed if you want. ”
“Absolutely not . . .” I whimper.
“You don’t have to do it all alone—”
“Jamie.” I grip the sides of his dark tee with both hands, needing him to understand this isn’t me rejecting his help. “This . . .” I whimper. “What you’re doing right now . . . It’s helping. Please, please, please, don’t stop.”
And just because he’s Jamie, and being a dick comes as naturally as breathing for him, he stops, and my next breath is stolen from my lungs as I’m lifted and set on top of the vanity. “What the hell—?”
But before I can finish my thought, he steps between my legs, and both his hands dig into the muscles at the back of my neck as they work their way back up to my skull.
A quiet moan slips past my lips.
The tension drains out of me with each hard press of his fingers.
I’d say this feels better than sex, but I still remember exactly what sex with this man feels like. And as incredible as his hands are, there are other things that are even more exquisite.
“Ashton . . .” My name is a hushed whisper that barely registers as I lower my head to his shoulder, erasing what little space is left between us, and suck in a breath as his scent envelops me.
Warm, creamy sandalwood mixes with the spicy fresh scent that is so deliciously only Jamie.
Heat radiates from his skin as I flatten my hands against the hard ridges of his abs just above the hem of his shorts and silently smile when I hear his groan of approval.
An alarm might as well be going off in my head for how dangerous this is.
We don’t do this.
We don’t touch.
Not since that night.
Bad things happen when we touch.
Things I should stop but can’t. Because. They. Feel. Too. Damn. Good.
Jamie’s giant palm slides to my face, tilting my chin and holding me captive with each heavy breath as we stay locked in a fog where we’re the only two people in existence. A fog where we don’t hate each other. Where we just are.
And for one stolen moment, I forget that we’re not.
His thumb caresses my jaw, and my soft chest rubs against his deliciously hard one.
Pulled to him by an invisible rope.
One dragging me to the edge of a cliff, daring me to leap.
I could fight the pull.
Dig my heels in and refuse to jump.
Or trust him to catch me after the fall.
I trusted him a lifetime ago.
Can I do it again?
But even as the thought plays out in my mind, I know it doesn’t matter whether I can or not because want and need have pushed safety and trust to the back of the line.
“Do you want to kiss me, Jamie?” I whisper, unsure of what he’ll say.
Unsure of which possible answer scares me more.
And even less sure of which one I want more.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you every fucking day since we woke up in Chicago, Ashton.
” The need reflecting back at me is intoxicating as Jamie slowly gathers my face in his hands.
Giving me a chance to stop him. A chance I don’t need and won’t take.
Not today. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you were fifteen years old and I realized you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. ”
His words are like a balm washing over all the jagged pieces on my tattered soul. “What are you waiting for?”
“Permission,” he growls as his lips ghost over mine. “Give me permission, Ashton.”
“Granted,” I whisper, barely able to usher the word into the universe before his lips are on mine, hot and heavy and absolutely perfect.
His tongue dances with mine, teasing and tasting and taking and giving.
Like this is our first kiss. Not our last. Like we have a lifetime to make up for and another to look forward to.
My fingernails dig into his skin, and my legs wrap around his lean waist as he swallows the small sigh that slips past my lips at what is the perfection of kissing Jameson Murphy.
My body heats, my heart pangs, and my head spins . . .
“Jamie,” I murmur and push him back as it all becomes too much.
As my stomach churns and bile works its way up my throat.
His eyes open and widen, concern etched in the lines of his face.
But I don’t have time to settle his worry before I hop off the counter and vomit on his feet.
“Ashton . . . What are you doing here? I figured after last night you wouldn’t be teaching your classes this morning.
” Lexie moves behind the Sweet Temptations counter, her blonde hair held back by a pink bow that matches the cupcake embroidered on her apron.
She looks perfectly put together and like everything I don’t feel right now.
With a beautiful, carefree smile, she grabs a similar pink and green to-go cup.
“Do you want a cup of tea? I’ve got some that are great for an upset stomach. ”
I hoist Kyrie up higher on my hip and shake my head. “I’ve got a class to teach soon, but I needed to talk to you before then.”
“Seriously, shouldn’t you be in bed?” She looks around me as the bells over the door chime and her smile grows as Dillan walks in.
I swear these women are always together.
Sweet Temptations and Hopeless Romantics are only steps apart from each other on Main Street. And Hart & Soul is two doors down from here. Which I’m insanely thankful for right about now.
“Hey, Ash,” Dillan adds as she coos at Kyrie. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh . . . So not good,” I grumble and look between them, my mind spinning in so many directions I’m not sure I know what good feels like anymore.
“We’re friends, right?” I ask, not bothering to wait for an answer.
“I’m just checking because I swear I haven’t had many and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
Like friends are supposed to tell each other things, right? ”
Lexie’s eyes narrow, and Dillan looks confused.
“Listen . . . I haven’t really done the whole girlfriends thing.
Even my roommates weren’t what you’d consider good friends.
We were all basically friendly competition.
But you guys. . .” I look between them, ready to cry.
I hate feeling like this. Out of control.
Out of my element. “You guys are my first real friends in I don’t even know how long,” I admit quietly, trying hard not to sound like some crazy stage-five clinger.
“So I’m going to need you to tell me this is normal. ”
“What is?” Lexie asks, clearly intrigued at my utter cluelessness but luckily not looking like I’m scaring the shit out of her. So that’s good, especially since I’m feeling less stable by the minute.
“This,” I snap. “Telling you things that are super embarrassing. Or fucking horrifying, for that matter. I can’t talk to Finn, and honestly, I desperately need to talk about it because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with it, and the more time I spend in my head, the scarier it gets in there. ”
“Pretty sure you’re scaring both of us now, Ash.” Dillan reaches for Kyrie like she thinks I’m losing my mind, and I’m not sure she’s wrong. “So slow down and breathe.”
I slide my sweet girl from my hip and hand her to Dillan, freeing me to freak out even more. “I mean, you guys are so nice and so sweet and kinda bitchy, which I actually love because that means you’re not fake little twat—”