11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Ashley
S ilence follows the gunshot, and I’m a wreck. I count the seconds: one, four, twenty, one hundred. I can’t take it. I have to know Aaron’s okay. I turn to open the door at the same moment there’s a knock. “It’s Aaron, baby. Let me inside.”
I set the gun on the counter to my right and quickly unlock the door only to have him rush inside, snow plastered all over him. He pulls the hood of his coat down and looks at me. “It was a damn bear,” he huffs out, slamming the door behind him and locking it. “Damn thing came at me. I didn’t want to kill it, but fuck, it tried to kill me.”
“Oh God. I did that. I’m the reason you went out there. I made you kill a bear.”
“I didn’t kill it,” he says. “I managed to scare it away with the gunfire, which is a miracle.” He shrugs out of his coat. “Bears don’t scare easily. Not big ones like that.” He pulls off a pair of gloves I didn’t even know he’d grabbed when he left. “And you were right. There was something outside the window. A big fucking something.”
“But you knew it wasn’t a person,” I say. “I should have listened to you. You’re the CIA agent.”
“I knew nothing of the sort until I went out there.”
“I could have gotten you killed. I was terrified when I heard that gunshot.”
He steps to me and rests his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t die easily, baby. Believe me, I don’t. I’m okay. We’re okay. We’re going to get answers from Edward and end this hell.”
“Are you sure he’s secure?”
“I drugged him and for a reason. I need sleep, and I need time with the woman I was supposed to call my wife, or she’ll never end up my wife. And don’t reply to that. I made a decision out there in the snow. I’m going to ask again. I’m going to convince you to marry me, even if I have to start all over again.” He kisses my hand. “Hungry?”
My heart is a little too happy with those words, considering how we got here, and my stomach is a ball of nerves. “How do we eat when we could be attacked at any moment?”
“We’re not going to be attacked at any moment.”
“But Edward’s behavior was odd, right?”
“He clearly has a death wish and is too much of a coward to do it himself.”
“But he called you in advance. You said he didn’t want to get his head blown off. I know you know that. Don’t coddle me. Don’t lie to me again. Not even to protect me. And clearly, I’m still angry.”
His hands settle on my waist. “No coddling. No lies. And you have every right to be angry. I don’t have one ounce of understanding as to what the fuck that was that he pulled here tonight. But I promise you, I will when he wakes up.”
“You can’t make him talk.”
“I can make him talk.”
“How?” I ask.
“He cares about a woman in Mexico.”
I swallow hard. “You’ll threaten her?”
“I’ll do what I need to do.”
“And he’ll believe you’ll hurt her.”
“Yes. He will.”
“I thought—”
“I won’t kill her. That’s not who I am.”
“But he believes you are?”
“Because it’s who he is. Baby, I’m a killer, but I’m not that killer. Why don’t we put a frozen pizza in the oven and eat? I know how you love frozen pizza.”
His understanding of my hate for frozen pizza reminds me of just how well he knows me. He gets me, but do I get him? It’s hard to process how we could be the same two people we were when he’s the person who threatens a life, and others believe he means business. “I don’t think I can eat.”
“I have peanut butter and jelly.”
“Hot chocolate? Maybe we can really drink it this time?”
“Hot chocolate it is,” he says, his voice hitching with worry.
A few minutes later, we sit down on the couch and stare at the fire, sipping our hot chocolates. Long minutes pass in silence, the kind of silence that’s always been safe with him. He feels safe, and it’s confusing. He sets his mug down and takes mine, turning to face me. “I know you’re scared.”
He’s right. I am. “I want this storm to be over. I want to leave this cabin.”
“And we will. As soon as the roads clear.”
“And go where?”
“I’ll let you know when I decide.”
“What about Edward?” I ask. “Are you going to kill him?”
His jaw tenses. “Do you want that answer?”
“Yes. No lies.”
“Then yes, I’m going to kill him.”
I wait for this to bother me, but I think at this point, I’m numb. I’ve turned off a switch, and I’m in survival mode. I think I won’t know what I really feel until later, perhaps much later. “And then what? We ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? Is that really possible?”
“Damn straight we do, and it is.”
“Like the CIA will let you walk away? They think you’re a criminal.”
“I’ll prove I’m not, and I’ll resign. I told you. I have cash saved up. I’ll go into private hire work. We can go anywhere you want to go, and you can have your identity back. They took it to hide you from me.”
“I can be me again?”
“Yes, baby, you can be you again. I’m going to make that happen.”
“How will I explain who you are?”
“The truth. I was CIA, and you couldn’t tell anyone who I was.”
“It feels too simple.”
“Simple is safe and good. Always go with simple.”
“We aren’t simple.”
He lowers me to the couch and comes down on top of me. “We are as simple as it gets. Two people who love each other.”
“Yes, but—”
His mouth closes down on mine, and I forget what I was going to say. There is just his tongue licking against my tongue, and his hand sliding under my backside, caressing it, lifting me. “I really need to feel you close.”
“We just did that,” I remind him.
“Six months without you, Ashley. We didn’t do nearly enough.”
My hand settles on his face. “I hated thinking you were the enemy.”
“I hated knowing you thought I was the enemy.” And then he’s kissing me again, and his hands and mouth travel to my jaw, my neck, then lower. He pulls my sweater over my head and then he’s kissing my nipples, cupping my breasts. Kissing and licking a path down my body until he’s pressing his mouth to my belly and unzipping my pants. Heat rushes through me with the certainty of what he plans to do, and it’s been so long, so very long.
I’m right about where his mouth will travel next. He tugs my pants down and drags them, along with my shoes, off of my body. Then his hands are on my ankles, his eyes meeting mine. “I haven’t properly tasted you in six months.”
My nipples and my sex clench with that bold statement. “There’s a lot we haven’t done in six months.”
“Too much,” he says, easing my legs apart, settling one on his shoulder while he settles between my thighs and strokes a finger over my clit.
I suck in air and arch my hips, sensations rolling through me, and his mouth isn’t even on me yet, but it will be, oh God, it will be, and I need this. I need this and him and—he licks me and presses two fingers inside me, a move that ends me in so many ways. There is no thinking, no worrying, no feeling anything but pleasure, only pleasure. So much pleasure. He licks, he strokes, he touches, he caresses. He pumps his fingers in my sex, and I lift into every move, push, and grind. I can’t help it. I can’t help myself with this man. He opens me up in ways no other man has and explores my body. Tears down my walls and inhibitions, and with that, we were always so damn hot together.
I don’t know where I am right now. I only know where his mouth and fingers touch, and it’s no time before I’m shattering, my body quaking into a crazy, hard release that I feel in every part of me. I collapse into the cushion, and he lowers my leg, sliding up my body to kiss me long and deep before he says, “Taste yourself on my lips. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Yes. It is.”
“Let’s go make that pizza and then I’ll eat you again for dessert.”
I laugh. “I don’t know if I can take it.”
“We both know that’s not true.” He winks and pulls me into a sitting position, giving me a sideways look. “It’s good to be with you, Ashley.”
“It’s good to be with you, too.”
“I never wanted to leave you. You know that, right?”
I think of the gifts he sent me before I went into hiding. “You sent me flowers.”
He turns to look at me. “What?”
“You sent me flowers. I was shocked. You sent me a note. You said it was all lies. You said—”
“I didn’t send you flowers. I wouldn’t have done anything to make them think they could use you as bait.”
“But someone did and the note said it was from you.”
“Someone,” he bites out and then he’s pushing to his feet, his body stiff, ready for attack.
I grab his hand and stand up. “Wait. What’s happening?”
“It’s time to wake Edward the fuck up and find out what kind of game he’s been playing with us.”