Chapter 24 #2
“So I assume she knows about us?”
“I didn’t tell her anything.” He reaches out, the warmth of his hand covering mine a contrast to the freezing carton.
I quickly grab the container, letting Ashton’s hand fall to the counter as I put the ice cream in the freezer, taking a second to enjoy the cold air hitting my hot face.
I motion for him to come into the living room.
“Nate came over to chat.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to say that.
He knows we’re friends, and I told him we would be exclusive.
If he thinks I wouldn’t be true to my word, he can go fuck himself.
“I know,” he says. “I trust you.”
“I just got out of the shower and threw on a shirt.” Again, I feel the need to be clear.
He said he trusts you. He has no idea how much that means to me.
That even though trust is so hard for me, it’s something I pride myself on.
It’s why I felt like I was ripped open the night Emory accused me of betraying her. Why I cried in his arms.
“Allie, I said I trust you. We agreed to be exclusive.” He says, straightening up from his seat on the couch. The same spot Nate just sat in. “Unless something has changed?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t look completely convinced, but I choose to believe he knows I’m telling the truth.
“Look, a baggie of pills fell out of your cabinet when I went to get the medicine for your fever the other day,” he says.
I guess we’re getting right into it. “I didn’t go through your stuff.
I should have brought it up to you earlier, and not in the way I did last night.
I was angry, and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. ”
Relief runs through my body. He didn’t go through my stuff. I don’t know what I would have done if he had. I know he’s telling the truth because I used to keep the baggie hidden under the Tylenol bottle.
“I flushed them,” I say in response. What is it with me and blurting out random admissions today?
“I don’t owe you an explanation, but I’ll give you one anyway.
I took them sometimes so I didn’t have to feel.
You said you used to feel numb? Well, I’m the opposite.
I feel too much, and sometimes I need it to stop.
All the memories and the buzzing in my brain.
So I drink and occasionally I take pills.
Took pills. I haven’t in a little bit anyway.
I didn’t have a prescription. I used to get them from my friend Lexi, who has a questionable boyfriend.
Honestly, I haven’t even had alcohol since the inn, and I flushed the pills like I said earlier. ”
Ashton stares at me, wide-eyed, intently listening to every one of my rambling words.
“You’re right. You don’t owe me anything, but I appreciate you telling me anyway,” he finally says. “So, where does that leave us?”
“I don’t know, but…I forgive you.” Those words are harder to say than any of the things I’ve already admitted today. “Just don’t go through my stuff and don’t keep shit from me,” I add.
He looks deep in thought, then nods his head. “I also want to thank you for taking care of me last night. I realize how hypocritical that was.”
“It’s fine,” I say, curling up again with my blanket from before. “You’re just lucky you had that cute-ass bunny to make it worth it.”
He chuckles, his eyes lighting up as his body relaxes into the cushions. “So I didn’t completely fuck everything up?”
“Not yet.” My eyes lock on where his hand is resting on the edge of my blanket, his fingers splayed out. “We’ll just have to see how things go.”
“Good,” he replies, his voice dropping to a low rasp. “Because I’m not done apologizing.” He grips the blanket, pulling it off my legs and tossing it onto the side of the couch. “There was something I really wanted to give you last night, but you said it had to wait.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He twists his body, placing his hands on either side of my hips.
His face is so close to mine that I think for a second he’s going to kiss me, but instead he slowly stands, holding eye contact until his legs are fully straight.
Then he turns on his heel and walks toward the kitchen.
My heart rate accelerates with anticipation.
What could he possibly be getting in there?
My belly tightens, blood flowing straight to my clit.
I’m so turned on that I almost shove my fingers into my underwear.
Before I can, Ashton walks back into the room holding two bowls with spoons shoved in the middle.
“I have a request,” he says, setting the bowls down on the coffee table and taking a seat next to me.
I sit up a little, eyeing the ice cream as it melts on the bottom of the bowl. “Do you really think you’re in a position to make demands right now?”
“Not a demand,” he says. “A request. And no, I don’t think I am, but I’m going to do it anyway.”
“Let’s hear it, then.”
“I have to go to this benefit thing next weekend. It’s going to be stuffy and pretentious, and I don’t want to go, but I made a commitment.
I would love it if you went with me. I know it sounds like a relationship thing, but I promise it’s not.
It’s just dinner. We don’t even have to stay the whole time. ”
“Like Emory’s gala?” I kick myself internally for bringing that night up, but the way he’s describing it feels too familiar.
“Yes, like that,” he answers carefully.
“Okay.” I know I should yell and fight and deny him. I should make him beg. But thinking back on what I did that night. How I left him. Maybe we deserve a do-over as far as galas are concerned.
Ashton stretches out his legs, a wicked grin spreading on his lips. “In that case, I can give you your birthday present now.”
I assume he’s talking about the ice cream when he reaches out for it.
But instead of grabbing the spoon, he dips a finger into it and brings it to my lips.
I instinctively open my mouth, but he moves it up to my top lip, painting it with the cold liquid.
Then he moves it down to the bottom one, repeating the same process.
My tongue darts out, licking my lips, and I hum as the sweetness touches the roof of my mouth and slides down my throat.
Ashton smirks and turns back, picking up the bowl and handing it to me along with the spoon.
“You’re going to eat your dessert,” he says as he shifts off the couch and sinks to his knees.
He slides his index finger into my boy shorts, and I lift my hips to allow him to pull them down to my ankles.
Gripping my thighs to gently push them apart, he settles his face between my legs. “And I’m going to eat mine.”