Chapter 12 #2
He breathed out. “Just one kiss, babe.” His infectious grin was back. He leaned his forehead to rest against hers. “Am I crazy, or do you feel this, too?”
“I don’t know what to feel. I was engaged a couple of days ago.” She tried to pull away, but Ash wouldn’t let her go.
A breath pulsed out of her lungs and into him. His shoulders lifted as he inhaled.
“I’ve been on the road since I was seventeen, over a decade now. I’ve never had a normal girlfriend. You have no idea—”
“Oh, there’s nothing remotely normal about me.”
Their faces remained kissably close, their foreheads still pressed together.
“I don’t want to ruin this,” he said, “but, damn it, Skye. I don’t want to lose you. I know you’re not a believer, but fate brought us together for a reason.”
His lips brushed against hers, and an answering desire stirred within her core.
Once again, he incited a reaction. But what would happen if he tried for more than a simple kiss?
She was damaged beyond repair, her body’s responses not hers to control.
She wished things might be different with him, but didn’t dare to hope.
The captivating glide of his lips demanded a response. She felt all of him, overwhelmed by the sensations he pulled from her troublesome body. She should be terrified, but she found herself swept away.
Beneath her excitement, fear lurked, a small niggling piece of doubt. Falling for Ash would add more complexity into a life full of difficulty. Rushing into something more wasn’t smart.
Ash wasn’t a starving artist. He was a rock star!
Instead of thinking about all the reasons she should keep her distance, she focused on his fingers digging into her arm and those twined in her hair.
The heavy rasp of his breathing mirrored her soft sighs.
They connected on a level where souls melded, and while that terrified her, she couldn’t stop her reckless rush toward to him.
And, as her heart rate accelerated, he deepened the kiss with a growl, pressing against her, as if he would lose her if he let her go. He licked and stroked and pushed his tongue deep, possessing her like a man on a mission.
Then, he pushed the seat back flat and crawled over her, staring down with need. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. Her fingers dug into his scalp as he stole her very breath with another mind-bending, heart-melting kiss.
His breathing changed, and his weight shifted. He grabbed her wrists, disentangling her fingers from his hair to pin her hands above her head. “Fuck, you drive me insane.”
Each time he ground his hips, a smoldering heat would flare between her legs. Adrenaline surged in her blood, pouring through her body, accelerating both her heart and the pace of her breaths.
While a flood of endorphins pumped in her veins, her body betrayed her with a familiar prickling sensation. She fought for air as the weight of childhood memories bore down with glacial surety.
Ash nibbled on the soft tissue of her neck. One hand on her wrists, holding them fast, while the other lifted the fabric of her shirt. His hand skimmed the swell of her breast as she battled with her mind.
Releasing her wrists, his hands moved down, gripping her hips. Then, his palm cupped between her legs, pressing hard and firm over the fabric of her jeans. His husky voice rasped, “I’m going to make you feel good.”
Her lips and fingers prickled with the spreading numbness as the memory vault released vileness into her mind. The fire in her belly dampened. The ache between her legs disappeared, and a chill settled in her body.
She froze beneath his touch.
His hands stopped. His kisses lifted off her skin. “What’s wrong?” He tilted his head back and stared into her eyes.
She couldn’t turn her head fast enough.
Ash lifted away.
She rolled to her side and curled into a ball, unable to hide her body’s revulsion. Images of her foster father flashed in her mind—touching, forcing…and worse.
Ash stumbled back into his seat, increasing the distance between them. “Shit, I’m sorry. I keep fucking this up, pushing you and breaking the rules.” A long string of curse words followed, and then he returned to her, gathering her in his arms. “I’m not used to going slow.”
She placed her hand on Ash’s chest. “We need to talk.”
So much about her wasn’t normal. This was what had Spencer hiring professional escorts. This was why she would never have a normal relationship.
Overhead, the call light blinked.
The pilot’s voice sounded. “Please buckle up and prepare for landing. You know the drill.”
Ash stared at her with haunted eyes. A frantic edge lined them, but it was the hollowness in his expression that knifed deep into her heart. Her rejection had wounded him.
If she could, she would kill her foster father all over again for the pain he inflicted on those she loved. Wasn’t it enough—what he’d done to her? To Forest? Yet the ghost of a monster continued to reach out from the grave to wreak havoc on her life.
Before she could speak about her past, she needed a moment to regroup.
Despite the pilot’s orders to buckle up, Skye stood. “I need—I need to freshen up.” She pushed hot tears from her cheeks and stumbled to the lavatory.
The plane pitched down, and she wondered if this was the beginning of the end for her and Ash.
Ash said nothing, but the sound of his heavy breathing followed her the entire way to the back of the plane.
He’d asked if she felt it—the thing growing between them. Yes, she felt something—an unsustainable attraction.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, sick with the mess of her past. She needed Forest. He would understand.
When she returned to her seat, Ash glanced up from his cell phone.
Was he writing another song? Who knew what rock stars did?
And it changed things, knowing who he was, but then again, he was exactly the same. Same penetrating eyes. Same quirky lift at the corner of his mouth. Same everything…except different now.
The easy way he held himself portrayed his confidence as a man who commanded the adoration of millions. The quirky humor and easy smiles he tossed her way, she now understood as snarky expressions of a rough and jaded celebrity.
The old Jeep and the beat-up guitar? Why did he hold on to those things from his childhood? What was he clinging to? And what was she going to do with him now?
She chewed on her lower lip, studying him.
For a rock star who surely had his share of groupies to choose from, what was he doing in a plane, twenty-five thousand feet in the air, headed to Niagara Falls, with a woman who had such a complicated life?
She wasn’t supermodel hot. She wasn’t tall, sexy, and lean. She was simply herself. She spoke her mind, took care of her patients, and had only ever loved one person—her foster brother, Forest, not even a romantic love. Sad, how now she realized she never truly loved Spencer.
Ash’s words whispered in her head, “Do you feel this, too?”
Much like his song, she felt the insanity of whatever had brought them together.
The plane banked sharply to the left. She gripped her armrest, and buckled her seat belt.
Their gazes snagged with unspoken words hanging in the balance.
The pilot’s voice sounded over the speaker again. “We’re coming in for our final approach. It’s going to be a bit bumpy.”
Bumpy? He had no idea of the turbulence buffeting the passengers sitting in the back.
“Ash, I—”
He held up his cell phone. “I booked a suite. It has two rooms.” He brushed the hair off his face. “We’re both tired, and I think we need a good night’s rest.”
“We need to talk.”
He nodded. “We will but not tonight.”
“We can’t ignore what happened.”
He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair.
“I messed up. I’m sorry.” He wiped his hand over his face and drew it down over his mouth.
“I keep forgetting to go slow.” He blinked, and his tortured eyes flashed.
“Please, don’t hold my past against me, but I don’t know how to hold hands and kiss a girl.
I’ve never dated…anyone.” He gave a shrug.
“I’m so used to hitting a home run that I forget about walking the bases. ”
The curse of a rock star, she assumed.
“As much as this sounds like a cliché,” she began, “I’m going to say it anyway. It’s not you. It’s me.”
The plane rocked as it lined up for its landing. Turbulence, her ass. This was the same pilot who’d had them swooping through the mountains in his helicopter. Bastard was probably having a blast.
Her head banged against the seat back as the wheels touched down, bounced, and hit again. The pilot nosed the front wheel down and engaged the brakes.
His voice popped through the speakers. “It’ll be a few minutes while we taxi. Please remain seated until we come to a full and complete stop.”
After the bumpy landing, she continued, “I’m broken and messed up ten ways till Sunday. You don’t want me.”
His face darkened with a scowl. “That’s fucking bullshit.”
She blinked. “You don’t get it.”
He undid the latch of his seat belt and knelt before her, clasping her hands. “We mesh”—he thumped his chest—“in here, Skye. Right the fuck in here.” He brushed his lips against her knuckles. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“This has nothing to do with who you are or what you do for a living. I said, it’s me, not you.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”
She cupped his strong jaw. “I’m not sure it’s fair to involve you in all my complications.”
The richness of his scent enveloped her in a familiar blanket of spice and musk, a sexy fragrance that was purely Ash. He made her feel comforted and safe, an oddly unique experience.
“If it’s about your ex, don’t worry about him,” Ash said. “I’ve known guys like him, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you anymore.”
He held himself a breath apart from her. Their lips trembled but did not touch.
Oh, poor Ash. If only it were so simple…