6. The Space Between Us
Chapter 6
The Space Between Us
Ash
A snort of laughter escapes Ori’s mouth, but I catch a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes.
“What’s so funny?”
She dismisses my inquiry with a wave of her hand, throwing in an eye roll for effect. “Have you ever had to work for a woman’s affections?”
Her question hits the bull’s-eye, even if I won’t admit it aloud.
But I know one thing for certain—Oriana won’t be one of those women.
That knowledge only makes her hotter, and trust me, even when I couldn’t stand the sight of the woman, I sure as hell enjoyed watching her walk away.
Hey, a great ass is a great ass, and Ori’s peach is magnificent.
Then again, so is the rest of her.
Ori pulls her legs from underneath her, pinning me with her dark gaze. “Are you ever going to ask?”
Her question throws me, especially considering where my mind—and our conversation—has been treading. “About us having sex?”
She snorts again, a trait I find more adorable every time. “No, Ash. About my handy dandy signature, which I know you need. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? We both know it isn’t for an impromptu sleepover.”
There’s something indelibly sexy about a woman who sees through the fluff and bullshit, aiming right for the heart of a situation. Ori has it in spades. “I consider the sleepover a bonus.” At her incredulous look, I chuckle, realizing that all my usual tricks are getting me nowhere. “Have you heard any of the details about my plan for this space?”
“You want to open a bar, right?” Ori shrugs and captures her bottom lip between her teeth. Now I’m staring at her mouth again.
What the hell were we talking about? Braden is right—this woman has me all kinds of mixed up.
What is it about her?
Clearing my throat, I force myself to remain on topic. Good luck convincing my dick of that idea. “Not just a bar. A modern-day speakeasy. A private club, open once or twice per week, complete with live music, dancing, and beverages from the Roaring '20s.”
Ori drags her tongue along her lower lip, marinating on the idea. Granted, her sexy as fuck gesture has me marinating on something else entirely.
Definitely not helping my dick situation.
At all.
“What do you think?”
“This is your concept?”
“My adaptation, anyway.” Narrowing my eyes, I try to interpret her silence. “Why do you look so surprised? ”
“You hit me as more of a biker bar aficionado. No offense.”
Her remark irks the hell out of me. I get why she believes that way, even though it’s total nonsense. Stiffening, I kick my booted legs onto the worn coffee table with a frustrated huff. “That’s all you see, isn’t it? I’m covered in ink and ride a hog, so I must be part of an MC, right? Some fringe members of society who may or may not be involved in illegal activities? For your information, F. Scott Fitzgerald is my favorite author, and I want to bring back some small piece of the glory that was his heyday.” Another grunt flies from my mouth as I grab my glass of whiskey. “Probably a stupid idea, anyway.”
What most people don’t see behind my tough-guy facade is the sensitive man existing on the periphery. A man who, despite all the bed bunnies and accolades in the tattoo industry, has never quite felt good enough—a man who hides that insecurity behind a devil-may-care attitude.
Most times, it works like a charm. But for some reason, I find myself wanting Ori’s approval, and not just because I require her legal release.
I want a woman like Oriana to see that potential in me. To look past the tattoos and hardened exterior and glimpse the man inside … the one I let no one else see.
“It’s not a stupid idea, Ash. In fact, I was looking around the space just before you arrived and thinking how the walls still whisper their secrets. She deserves a renaissance, and I think you’re the man for the job.”
“Now you’re patronizing me.”
Ori scoots closer and grabs my hand, her slight fingers entwined around mine. “It was a thoughtless comment that I never should have said. Trust me, I know there is so much more to you than tattoos and motorcycles. The speakeasy idea is brilliant, and the only issue I see is ensuring my late nights don’t interfere with yours, and vice versa.”
I hear her speaking, fully aware she’s given me the green light, but I’m preoccupied by the feel of her hand in mine. Her skin is like silk, compared to my calloused palms, and I wonder if the rest of her body is this soft.
“Ash?”
Snapping from my daze, I relax into a smile, even daring to lift her palm against my mouth to press a kiss to her skin. “We misjudged each other, all because of a seedy asshole named Micah. One who will sport several bruises after I see him again.”
“He’s not worth it.”
“He is, because I missed out on six months of knowing you.”
“On the flip side, you had six months to plot my demise,” Ori replies with a grin. “Don’t deny it. We’ve both thought up a hundred ways to make the other disappear.”
I clear my throat and shrug as I bite back a laugh. “None of which will be carried out, right? I know how tough you are, Little One, and I’m not sure I’m brave enough to continue messing with you.”
Truth? I love messing with her. She keeps me entertained because I’m never sure what will come out of her luscious mouth next.
Although now I’m thinking of tons of ways to keep her wicked tongue occupied.
Fuck. Get it together, man.
Trouble is, I’m not sure I can. My insides are a tightly coiled spring, quivering with nervous energy.
Maybe it’s because we’re no longer sworn enemies .
Or maybe because she’s on board with the speakeasy idea.
My life can return to its aforementioned routine now, but that life suddenly doesn’t hold the same appeal.
The thrill I’m getting from holding her hand—wait a damn minute. I’m still holding her hand.
It’s just like those lost moments on the ladder, when everything but her faded from view.
As if reading my thoughts, Ori glances down at our entwined fingers before slipping her hand from my grasp.
She straightens her spine, allowing a few inches of space between us. “Well, that’s settled. All in all, a successful evening. We no longer detest one another, and I’ll sign whatever documentation Kiki requires.”
But I’m nowhere near finished. Now that I’ve spent some time with this petite beauty, I know one thing.
I need more.
Much, much more.
“We got business out of the way and now, the fun can start.” I clink her glass, my eyes tracing the lines of her body. Ori may not be my usual type, but she’s one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen.
And if I’m not mistaken, the feeling is mutual.
Ori quirks a brow, her dark eyes dancing behind her glasses. “Dare I ask what you have in mind?”
Oh, beautiful, I wish you would.
I fully realize I need to take my libido down a few notches before I overtake her slight frame and show her just how much fun we can have together.
Leaning forward, I rest my arms on my knees, my famous smirk playing about my mouth. Am I pulling out all the stops? Damn right I am. “I already told you. We get to know one another. Time for truth or consequences.”
She sputters her drink at my request. “Ash, I haven’t played that game since high school.”
“See? Entirely too long. Come on, we’re here all night. Let’s make the most of it.”
What I don’t mention is how I’d far rather strip off her clothes and explore her all night … but I will. First, I have to break through her cool and collected exterior, because I sense the fire underneath. I felt it when I held her against me in the bookstore.
All she needs is someone willing to stoke it to life.
Plus, Ori wears some pretty thick emotional armor. Hell, it’s almost as thick as mine, but I want to dig deep and get to know the woman beneath that protective shell.
Part of me wonders if anyone ever has.
With a shrug, Ori flops back against the couch, a smile easing across her face. “Fine. You go first.”
The best part about these silly games is how quickly the time flies when you’re engaged in good-natured ribbing and laughter. We spend the next hour learning the basics about one another—schooling, childhood, marital status, kids—all the while blowing each other’s minds with how wrong we had the other pegged.
First impressions are often that way, particularly when based on outward appearances.
Still, I know there are way more layers to Oriana Thorne. Time to jump to the good stuff.
Stroking my chin, I shoot her a mischievous grin. “Where’s one place you had sex that everyone said you should try, but you hated?”
A low giggle rises from Ori’s chest, her tongue once again gliding along her lower lip. By far, the most unintentionally sexy move I’ve ever seen.
Don’t get me wrong. Plenty of women employ that maneuver, but Ori has it mastered. Best part? She has no clue how unhinged she’s making me.
I’m certain Oriana Thorne is the quintessential good girl. Sure, she might enjoy a spanking or the occasional porn flick, but all in all, she’s pretty vanilla.
There’s nothing wrong with vanilla—except when women insist they’re anything but, and you end up learning the hard way that they are.
Trust me, I’ve been with enough women to know that’s a fact. And it works both ways—men who crow about the size of their cock rarely have anything to brag about.
That’s why I don’t brag. My hookups do it for me.
I keep quiet. More of a show than tell kind of guy.
“I see we’ve segued to sex talk,” Ori says, sputtering her whiskey as she takes a sip.
“It’s always interesting.”
With a grin, she gestures to herself. “Not when you think I’m an old maid who fucks through a sheet.”
See? Totally vanilla. At least she admits the fact.
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Answer the question.”
“Easy. Airplane bathroom.”
Or … not vanilla at all .
“You did not fuck in an airplane bathroom,” I scoff, dismissing her claim with a wave of my hand.
But Ori’s shrug and unaffected gaze tell me she most definitely did join the mile high club. Hell, even I haven’t checked that one off my bucket list.
“I did. Really tight space even for my tiny body. Do not recommend.”
“Was this with your boyfriend at the time?”
“Not exactly. The co-pilot.” Ori giggles at my shocked expression. “Just because you think I’m a prissy bitch doesn’t mean you’re right.”
“Few women surprise me.”
“Are you saying I’m not typical?”
“In any way. Huh.” Yes, I’m floored by her admission. I’m also pretty fucking turned on. Sitting up, I shift on the couch, trying to adjust myself without Oriana catching on.
Judging by the mischievous smirk on her face, she knows exactly what I’m doing. “You okay over there?”
“I don’t know. You care to help me out?”
“You’ve never been told no, have you?”
“Not true. I got rejected a ton as a teenager, but then I started paying attention to women. Picking up on the subtle cues—the intangible signs that they’re interested. After a while, I got damn good at it.”
“And what cues are you picking up from me?” Ori inquires, resting her head on her hand, expectant curiosity on her face.
“That you have no intention of falling for any of my lines, even if you are attracted to me.”
“Is that a fact?”
I shift again, those dark eyes of hers boring holes into my visage. Talk about an intense gaze. “Honestly, it’s a guess. You’re hard to read, Ori.”
Now the corners of that gorgeous mouth curl up. “Thought you were good at reading women.”
Tossing up my hands, I shoot her an embarrassed grin. “Not you, apparently. But you’re nothing like the women I’m used to.”
Ori stiffens, her eyes cutting to an innocuous spot on the floor. “Got it.”
Shit, it was a compliment—one that went over like a lead balloon. “That’s a good thing, Ori.”
She releases a sigh before meeting my gaze. “It’s just I’ve heard that exact line so many times regarding me. How I’m a tough nut to crack and not worth the effort. And I know they’re not all wrong.”
“Actually, that’s exactly what they are. The wrong guys.”
“Well, I’ve had my share of the wrong guys, so I’m thinking the right one isn’t out there. Maybe I should take a page from your playbook and sample all the wares in Sparkwood.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not? Seems like you have a good time.”
Do I, though? If you asked me earlier today, the answer would have been a resounding yes.
Lots of fun times. Lots of women.
Lots of moments that didn’t equal up to anything special.
Unlike right now, where I’m hanging on Ori’s every word, truly blown away by every facet of this woman.
And I have yet to discover my favorite facets—on her.
“Casual sex isn’t your style. You’ve got toys for that.” I lean in, feeling the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. “You want it all. No exceptions.”
Her eyes widen at my words. I’ve hit the nail on the damn head.
“Easier said than done.”
“Easy as fuck with the right man. The right guy won’t think you’re too much. He’ll think you’re perfect.”
Ori rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile playing on her mouth. She appreciates my sentiment, even if she won’t admit it aloud.
“Your turn, Ori. Hit me with a good one.”
She cocks her head, skewing her mouth to the right. “Let’s see. Okay, I’ve got one. What’s your weakness, and don’t say you don’t have one. Everyone has one, even big tatted bad boys like you.”
Lifting my glass, I nod in her direction. “Right now, my weakness is a tiny librarian type who, I suspect, knows exactly how sexy she is—but would sooner die than admit it.”
Her eyes widen, a spark of fire igniting in their depths before she masks it with a practiced smirk and a snap of her fingers. “You’re damn good at delivering those lines, Asher Hammond. Right on cue. Smooth as hell.”
Shaking my head, I release a frustrated grunt. For once, my words weren’t meant to butter a woman up. They were the truth. “A woman who also apparently still hates me, contrary to what she’s said otherwise.”
“I don’t hate you. I barely know you, although we are working on that. Now, answer the damn question.”
“I just did.”
A slight flush colors her cheeks, upping the ante on her cuteness factor. “Fine, but since I don’t believe you, I get to go again. What’s your biggest hang-up?”
Downing some whiskey, I shrug. “I suppose it would be the fact that I don’t date.”
“You mean, you don’t call it dating? I’ve seen you with scads of women around town.”
Nodding, I focus on my glass, feeling like a fraud for the first time in years. “It’s never serious. I’m a lone wolf.”
Why do I care what this woman thinks of me? What is going on in my damn brain?
“Wolves travel in packs,” Ori adds, her expression smug.
“True, but I’ve got my boys for that.”
“They also mate for life.”
Scoffing, I fix her with my green-gold gaze, shaking my head in disbelief. “You have an answer for everything.”
“Just calling you on your bullshit.”
Her observation makes my back go up. I can’t be sure if she’s hit a sore spot, or I’m pissed she reads me this well in such a short amount of time. “Okay, Ms. Smarty Pants, why do you think I don’t date?”
“You’re scared.”