10. Burning Boundaries
Chapter 10
Burning Boundaries
Ash
“S
ign there and there.” Kiki slides the paperwork across the table to me, motioning to the two lines requiring my signature.
A new lease, allowing me to move ahead with my speakeasy plans.
I scan the agreement, noting Ori’s signature already in place. Her penmanship is feminine but with a quiet power. A surety in every stroke.
Delicate but deliciously dangerous.
Much like the woman herself.
And there goes my brain again, traveling the same path it’s been on since yesterday.
“She already signed? That was quick.”
Kiki offers me a blasé shrug. “Goes to show the strength of your charm when you aim it properly.”
Somehow, I doubt that’s the reason, but I’m thrilled Ori didn’t renege on her agreement after our stilted goodbye yesterday morning. Or, should I say, my stilted goodbye.
She caught me off guard with the dinner offer and although I’d love to sample her wares daily, it’s not a good idea.
For either of us.
Will I continue feeding myself these mental lines of bullshit? Until they push me into the grave.
I fell prey to a woman once. There won’t be a sequel.
“Done and done,” I reply, setting the pen down with a satisfied flourish next to my newly revised lease agreement.
Kiki nods and smiles before slipping the paperwork into her briefcase. “Congratulations, Ash. I can’t wait to sample a cocktail in your new speakeasy.”
I lean against the pub booth with a relieved sigh and hold up my glass of whiskey for a toast. “That’s still a few months off, but at least I’ve cleared one obstacle.”
Kiki clinks my glass with her own before taking a sip. “So, is Oriana Thorne still a wretched bog witch?”
I stare at my drink but can’t hold back the smile splitting my face. “Not even close.”
“Told you.”
“You were right,” I concede, eager to steer the conversation away from the petite, elusive bookstore owner who has effectively avoided me the past two days.
No joke, she always seemed to be just out of sight when I passed by or stopped in for my second, third, and fourth cup of coffee.
Hey, I didn’t get much sleep the other night—or last night, if we’re being honest. No, my brain kept me awake into the wee hours, ruminating on Oriana Thorne.
After two nights with barely any shuteye, I needed copious amounts of caffeine.
Nothing more to it than that.
But Kiki is not content to let the subject lie. Figures .
“I have to ask. How did you manage it?”
I shoot her a wink and take another swallow from my glass. “With that wicked charm you claim I have in spades.”
Kiki snorts out a laugh and buries her face in her hand. “Why am I not surprised?”
“A locked basement door didn’t hurt the cause, either.”
My friend quirks her brow at me, my words catching her unaware. “You and Ori got locked in the basement?”
“Yep.”
She runs her fingers along the edge of her glass, and I can’t tell if she approves or thinks I’m out of my damn mind. “Was that gravity’s fault or yours?”
I chuckle, taking another sip of my whiskey. “Gravity, obviously.”
“Bullshit.”
I lean forward, resting my hands on the table. “Fine. It was intentional, but necessary. I needed ample time to chip away at Ori’s preconceived notions about me.”
“How long were you stuck down there?”
I drag my tongue against my lower lip as a vision of Ori spread out beneath me once again enters my brain. “All night long.”
“Did you two have fun?”
I dust my knuckles along my jacket and blow on them. “She signed the new lease, didn’t she?”
Kiki clicks her tongue against her teeth, her nails tapping the wood table in an aggravated rhythm. My old friend is about to serve me a stern lecture on the accouterments of love and romance. “You know I love you, right?”
God, this is about to get painful. “Yep.”
“But I hate the way you live your life. Are you honestly happy dating a different woman every damn day? ”
“Are you seriously asking me that question? Don’t most men love that lifestyle?”
Kiki drops her head to her hand and huffs out a breath. “Not most men, no. Most men, like most women, like the idea of falling in love and settling down. You won’t even entertain the concept.”
“Different strokes, right? I’m not one of those guys.”
“Because you don’t give it a chance. Look, I accepted the idea of casual dating when you and I were together, but not because I didn’t want more. With you, there was no other option.”
What the hell? Please don’t tell me my former fuck buddy is rekindling feelings for me. Especially not when her husband is also my friend and the local chief of police.
That is a migraine I do not need.
“Kiki—”
She waves her hands, silencing me. “Shelve your ego, Ash. I’ve been over you for years. After I met Drake, there was no going back. He offered me everything you wouldn’t give me. No questions asked.”
“If you recall, I introduced you to Drake, so I’m thrilled it worked out.”
And I am glad. Even though I’m a confirmed bachelor, I never begrudge my bedmates when they find their forever person. Do some hope I might be that guy? Sure, most do. But they quickly realize I mean what I say about love.
We don’t mix.
Period. End of story.
Besides, love isn’t meant for everyone.
Case in point, me.
“Is there a point to this lecture or are you just crapping all over my buzz?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at my former fling as I lean back against the wooden booth.
“Mark my words: one day, you’ll meet a woman who will turn you on your head. You won’t be able to stop thinking about her and all those claims about hating love will up and vanish. Then you’ll join the rest of us lovesick fools in that magical fairytale place known as wedded bliss.”
I roll my eyes and bark out a laugh. “Not a chance in hell. Don’t you know me by now?”
Kiki throws up her hands. “Fine. Maybe I’m wrong and you’ll continue to bed the local female population of Sparkwood until your dying day.”
Now we’re talking. “There are worse ways to go.”
Do I sound like a heartless prick? Without a doubt, but I’ll do anything to change the path of this conversation.
Kiki glances over my shoulder, her lips curling into a smile. “Well, well. Speak of the devil. Look who’s here.”
When I turn, I half expect to see any number of my recent conquests huddled by the entrance, glowers on their faces as they demand to know why I despise the idea of love.
But no, it’s her. The siren herself—Oriana Thorne.
My pulse spikes as my gaze moves over her slight form, knowing all too well what lays hidden beneath her trench coat.
Suddenly, it’s a thousand degrees in here and I drag a hand across my brow before shrugging off my jacket.
Maybe I’m allergic to the woman, considering the effect she’s having on me.
Yeah, that’s got to be it.
“Oriana,” Kiki calls out, waving her over, before shooting me a dagger-edged glance. “Be nice. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” I retort, a snort of indignation escaping my throat.
What the hell does Kiki think I’ll do? Berate the woman for letting me have my way? Perhaps pounce on her after she signed the new lease?
Although, that second option sounds damn good. Ori claimed to have joined the mile high club. Perhaps I can convince her to sample a few more public places.
Check off some boxes on both our lists.
Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking disaster. I can’t go two minutes without picturing myself buried inside Ori’s heat.
Her warm, tight, wet pussy.
“Hi Kiki.”
Just those two words from Ori’s delectable mouth are all I need to hear. Her smooth voice, like honied velvet, washes over me, reminding me of all the deliciously dirty things she whispered the night before, when she unraveled me with her words and every exquisite curve.
Now, it’s my turn to return the favor.
Ori refocuses her gaze as those big brown eyes lock onto me. “Hello, Ash.”
I lean back against the booth, letting the wood press into my shoulders as I drape my arms along the top, the fabric of my shirt stretching across my well-developed pecs.
Is it an intentional move? Absolutely.
A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth when I spy the turtleneck she’s sporting—pulled all the way up to her jaw. “Nice sweater.”
A flush climbs her cheeks as she averts her gaze. “Good for keeping me warm when it’s positively frigid outside.”
“I know a few other things that might work even better. ”
She catches her lower lip between her teeth as that mischievous gleam enters her eyes.
Game on.
“I’m sure you’re an expert in that field.” Ori shifts her weight, her fingers pulling at the neckline of her sweater. Yep, I’m getting to her and I’m loving every damn second.
“Careful, Little One. You don’t want to accidentally show off whatever it is you’re hiding.” Then I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, my gaze never faltering from her face.
She laughs, and it upends me, just like it did the other night. When she meets my lingering stare, I see the desire flickering in her face. She’s reliving the same memories I am, and it’s having the same heated effect. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tilting my head, I motion toward her sweater. “Need me to remind you?”
“Do you two need a minute?” Kiki interjects.
When I swing my head to look at my friend, I catch her amused smile.
Shit. I forgot she was sitting there.
Once again, I got totally lost in Oriana.
Talk about some powerful magic.
“What?” I manage.
Kiki wags her finger between Ori and me. “You two. Seems you have important topics to discuss. Do you need some privacy, or would you prefer I continue to pose as a voyeur?”
My former fuck buddy is having way too much fun at my expense.
I push myself from the booth and jerk my thumb toward the bar. “Actually, I need another drink. Ori, what’s your poison?”
“Nothing for me.”
“Not even a glass of single malt?” I tease.
“Not tonight. I’m just here to grab some food.”
Kiki pats the seat next to her. “Sit down and Ash will get the server over here. We were just discussing his new venture. Thanks to you, it’s a go for liftoff.”
Ori shoots Kiki a smile. “Happy to be of service. I’d love to join you, but my food is almost ready. We ordered it to-go.”
I stiffen when I catch her words. We ? Who exactly are we ?
I don’t wait long for an answer.
“Got our food. You ready to head home, Ori?”
A male voice steps uninvited into our conversation, and I cut my gaze toward him as one thought shoots through my mind.
Who the fuck is this?
This guy’s got the whole professor vibe going—tweed jacket, glasses perched on his nose, and not a hair out of place. An Ivy League prep who likely has a deluge of initials after his name.
I hate him immediately.
Kiki extends her hand to the man while shooting me a coy side-eye. “Hi, there. I’m Kiki, the local realtor.”
Ori motions to the man at her side—a man standing entirely too close for my liking. “This is Roger. We worked together in the city.”
Which doesn’t explain what Professor Plaid Patches is doing here now. We’re ninety minutes outside of Manhattan .
Far too many miles to travel for a bite to eat.
No, this is an intentional visit and judging by the looks he’s shooting at Ori, he has plans for an all-night party.
I shake his hand, ensuring I employ my tightest ‘don’t fuck with me’ grip. “Asher Hammond.”
When he winces, I know I’ve done my job. “Hell of a grip,” he says, adjusting his glasses.
Buddy, that isn’t all I have.
Instead, I shrug and grunt. That’s about as friendly as I can manage right now.
“Here you go, handsome,” a voice says at my elbow. “I saw you were running on empty.”
Talk about perfect timing. I pivot toward the striking bartender, offering her my signature smile as I accept a fresh glass of whiskey. “You know me too well.”
“Actually, I don’t know you well enough,” she replies with a wink, planting her hand on her hip.
It’s an overt gesture, but I love her for it, even though I don’t know the bartender’s name and haven’t given her a speck of attention until now.
All Oriana will see is a beautiful woman coming onto me. Will I play that to my advantage? Damn right, I will.
“We’ll have to work on that, won’t we?” I pull a twenty from my wallet and tuck it into her front pocket, watching her eyes alight.
See, Oriana? You’re not the only one who’s moved on.
“We will. Come find me when you’re done.” With a final hip shake, the bartender returns to her post, and I cross my arms triumphantly over my chest and shoot a cocky grin toward Oriana.
Judging by the tight set of her jaw, she is not amused.
Join the club. Besides, she started it with Mr. Plaid Patches Yale wannabe. No way in hell that man can fuck worth a damn. No one wearing elbow patches knows how to please a woman.
But I sure as hell do, and now I have a very interested party to spend the evening with.
Game over. I win.
“We’d better go,” Ori’s schmuck says, giving her sleeve a gentle tug. “Don’t want our food to get cold.”
Ori nods, but the aggravation is still clear on her face. “Absolutely. Have a good night.”
She reaches over, giving Kiki a hug. Then, in a totally unexpected move, she turns to me and opens her arms. “Don’t worry if she sees you. Your bartender friend doesn’t seem the type to be easily dissuaded. Besides, I’ve earned a hug.”
Before I can respond, Ori steps in closer, wrapping her arms around my waist. My breath catches as her body presses into mine with a warmth that sends a jolt of memory through me.
Her cheek rests against my chest, and for a moment, I feel her breathing in sync with mine. I fold her into my embrace, ducking my head to breathe in the sweet scent of her hair—a scent that is uniquely hers.
“Congratulations. I’m really happy for you,” she murmurs.
I slide a finger under her chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “All because of you.”
She starts to pull back, her body instinctively trying to create distance, but I’m not ready to let her go. My grip tightens, just enough to keep her close, to make her understand there’s still something unfinished between us.
I lower my head, brushing my mouth against hers in the lightest, softest kiss—a mere whisper of contact. It’s barely there, yet the weight of it lingers in the air, saying everything we haven’t. Her breath hitches, and I can’t resist leaning in further, my lips grazing the shell of her ear as I murmur, “He’s not what you need.”
Ori bites her lip, her eyes flickering with amusement. A small chuckle escapes on a sigh, tinged with irony. “Neither is she, and we both know it.”
Her words hang in the air between us, undeniable and sharp, cutting through whatever game we’re playing. For all my bravado, she sees right through me, and she isn’t afraid to call me out on the fact.
She breaks free from my grip and offers a last smile before linking arms with Professor Prep and walking out the door.
Fucking hell.
Do I want to stop Ori from leaving? Of course, but then what? Demand her time and energy, only to shove her away again tomorrow?
One night. That was the agreement. At least on my end.
I can’t be angry she’s abiding by it.
That’s what my head says. My fists want to pummel that preppy bastard into the ground.
Releasing a low growl, I swig back half my drink, slamming the glass on the table as I sit down.
Then I notice Kiki’s bemused expression.
“What?” I snap.
“You tell me.”
I yank a hand through my hair and heave out a sigh. “You know, I get called Mr. One Night Stand all the time, yet here she is, not forty-eight hours later, with another guy, and it’s fine.”
Now Kiki’s grin is full-fledged.
“What is so damn funny?”
“That woman I mentioned earlier? The one who would turn you upside down? Looks like you’ve already met her.”
“Who? Ori? No. Not at all.”
“Right. Not even a little bit.” She shrugs with a knowing smirk. “I guess she isn’t your type, though.”
What is it with women and that line?
Is there a handbook somewhere that describes my perfect woman?
One that states a gorgeous, sexy as fuck librarian type couldn’t possibly fit the bill for me? Because I’d like to see it, and then burn the damn thing.
“Exactly.” I mumble the words, knowing it’s total crap, before flagging the bartender for another refill. The whiskey is going down way too easily now, and for all the wrong reasons. The gorgeous redhead smiles in my direction and sets about making my drink. “She’ll do nicely, though.”
Kiki glances at the bartender and shakes her head. “She won’t cure what ails you, although it’s likely a good thing you have a backup plan, all things considered.”
“Considering what?”
“Ori’s date for the evening.”
Kiki is pushing all my buttons right now. I’m not sure what she hopes to accomplish, outside of pushing my anger into the red.
Drumming an erratic rhythm against the table with my fingers, I will myself to relax.
I’m fully aware the women I bed take other lovers, and vice versa. We’re adults having a good time. It’s not serious and so long as we’re safe and honest, it’s not a problem.
That is not the case with Ori’s buddy from Manhattan.
Him, I want to dismember and bury in a shallow grave.
And Kiki knows it—relishing every second as she watches me squirm.
“I better go.” Kiki stands up and pulls her coat off the hook at the end of the booth. “I have to admit, it’s nice to see.”
“See what?”
“You, all tangled up over Oriana Thorne.”
I roll my eyes before giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Be safe driving. Give Drake my best.”
Then she’s gone into the night, heading toward her cozy house where her husband awaits her arrival.
I’m glad for her. Truly.
But that Oriana is also warm and cozy tonight and it’s not with me?
Not so much.
The sexy redhead delivers me a fresh drink and I notice I’m the only one getting this level of personal service—not that I’m complaining. “Hey Ash, why don’t you come join me at the bar? I’ll be off in an hour and then you and I can have some fun.”
No doubt she’ll be a hell of a good time, too.
Only trouble with that scenario? I don’t want her in my bed.
I want the tiny brunette who left not ten minutes ago with some preppy schlep who doesn’t deserve her.
“Sorry, love, but I’m calling it a night.”
“What about your drink?”
I push a fifty into her hand. “For your trouble. ”
The bartender’s face falls, but she covers it with a practiced smile. “Another time, then.”
I nod and grab my coat, heading for my bike.
In truth, I have a thumping headache and neither another drink nor a roll in the hay with that cutie will help.
As I ease onto the street and head towards my farm, I allow my thoughts to drift back to my night with Ori. But I’m not thinking about the sex, even though it was spectacular.
Instead, I ruminate on her laugh as she told me a silly story about her childhood and how fucking pretty she looked.
Understatement of the century.
Oriana is gorgeous in every sense of the word. Besides her outward beauty, she’s fiercely intelligent, possessing an impressive array of street skills for such a bookish type. But it’s that vulnerable underbelly, caught in a few brief instances, that threatens to undo me.
I want to know all those moments, but that means a whole new set of rules for me.
And that? That I can’t allow.