6. Ambrose
CHAPTER SIX
AMbrOSE
L et’s get one thing straight. I don’t tolerate anyone abusing me, especially in my home. This scrawny woman in her defensive stance has me itching to duel her, to see what she’s made of.
With my gaze zeroed in on her, I bend to retrieve the previous pillow she threw at me. If she wants to fight, we’ll fight. Sometimes a pillow war is the way to go.
She raises one skeptical eyebrow at me, tracking my movements.
With a challenge in my voice, I say, “If this is how you want to settle things, so be it.” And then I whip my pillow out at her, hitting her square in the chest.
My impolite houseguest staggers a step back on my bed. She gapes at me, surprised I accepted her challenge.
Fighting to keep the smirk off my face, I mock her. “Don’t start no shit, won’t be no shit. Now drop the pillow before things get ugly.”
She bares her pearly straight teeth at me before all hell breaks loose.
Pillows go flying, slapping against each other. Feathers break loose, creating a cloud of fluff around us. Grunts follow as both of us try to get the upper hand. We whack each other repeatedly, neither relenting.
The woman fights dirty . Grabbing a second pillow from my pile near the headboard to better defend herself, she goes full Terminator on me. She smacks me upside the head, alternating sides with each pillow. My head whips back and forth like a ball in a ping-pong match.
Jesus! I’m getting my ass handed to me by a girl.
She already has the advantage of being above me. I’ll need to rectify my odds immediately or I’ll be waving a white flag to surrender.
While she’s mid-swing, I pounce, tackling her on the bed. She falls on her back with an audible oof . I take advantage of the situation, straddling her hips. Yanking the pillows free of her clutches, I pin her wrists to the bed.
“Surrender,” I order, biting back an amused chuckle.
Of course, she doesn’t listen to my command—that would be too easy and no fun at all. She bucks her hips, trying to dislodge me from my seat. I squeeze my thighs around her, refusing to move. For added measure, I rest more of my weight across her chest. She fights me a few more minutes, thrashing against the bed.
My dick is way too excited by all the delicious friction her tight little body is inadvertently giving it. This is not okay. She already thinks I’m an exhibitionist in my home—don’t need her accusing me of being a sexual deviant, too. Internally chastising myself, I will my cock down.
She grunts, squirming to break free of my hold.
Fat chance.
“Good luck moving two hundred and twenty pounds of stubborn muscle. It ain’t in the cards for you. Give up. You lost, darlin’.”
Realizing her struggle is useless, she goes slack beneath me. She’s exhausted—we both are. However, I know better than to let my guard down. Skittish creatures flee at the first moment they sense you’re not paying attention.
Instead of getting off her, I loosen my grip on her wrists as I take a moment to catch my breath. If she tries anything, I can easily get a hold of her again.
Bushed from our efforts, we pant heavily in the shared air between us. Neither of us moving or saying a word.
For a small thing, she put up one hell of a fight. I’m honestly impressed she went toe-to-toe with me. Most men wouldn’t dare, and fewer have tried. And yet, this pint-size woman put me through the wringer.
For a man who can never find someone to hold his interest, I’m delighted to have found my match. I would smile at her if she wasn’t glaring daggers at me.
“Get off me,” she snaps, gritting her teeth.
“You gonna behave?”
Her face puckers, like what I’m suggesting leaves a sour tang in her mouth. “ Ugh! Like I won’t defend myself? Get your naked ass off me right now.”
Unbeknownst to her, she’s given me something to bargain with.
“Tell you what. I’ll cover up if you play nice. No throwing shit. No beating me with pillows or whatever else you get your little talons on.”
“Fine,” she says with a huff. “Anything to stop seeing your dick in my face.”
“Funny. You didn’t mind looking at my dick earlier while I was?—”
“Oh, my god! Shut up!” she shouts, cutting me off mid-sentence. She turns her face away from my probing gaze, her cheeks turning beet red.
No longer able to hold back my amusement, I laugh. She’s damn cute when she’s flustered.
“Alright. I’ll get off of you and put some pants on. Just don’t attack me.”
She turns her lovely face back to mine, her expression deadpan. “I make no promises.”
Whoo-wee! She’s got spunk in her veins. I like the feistier ones, and this one has a mammoth dose in her. It’ll make interacting with her more entertaining.
Pulling away, I keep my eyes on her. I won’t underestimate Miss Fast Pitch again. If she’s going to take a swing at me, I’ll see her sneak attacks.
Thankfully, the woman remains still as I slide off her soft body, watching me as closely as I watch her. She hesitantly sits up in the bed, making no attempt to leave.
Feeling her eyes follow me, I proudly strut bare-ass toward my dresser. Hopefully, she likes my backside as much as she enjoyed admiring my front side.
Opting not to wear my boxer briefs, I pull out a pair of gray sweatpants and tug them up my long legs. I’ve heard the gossip women share about men in gray sweatpants. Using my physical assets may give me an unfair advantage, but I’m playing to win. If I want to convince her to be mine before the storm ends, I have no shame parading around her in the male version of lingerie. As long as her attention’s on me, I’ve got a chance at swooning her off her feet.
Theorizing she’ll take issue with me going shirtless, I dig through one of my drawers to find a top—something nice and snug to show off my chest. A soft navy t-shirt a size too small will do the trick.
Dressed, I turn to face her. The way she eyeballs me with a suspicious narrow gaze, you’d think she knew what I’m up to. She can’t be mad if my outfit is enticing. We agreed to me being dressed—not me hiding the goods.
Alright. It’s time to smooth things over. Introductions seem like a good way to break the ice.
“You got a name, darlin’?”
“You first,” she counters tersely, folding her slender arms across her chest in a defiant little gesture I find adorable on her.
Fine. I’ll go first. “My name’s Ambrose O’Mara. Those closest to me call me Brose. You may call me what you want.”
“Asshole it is then,” she mutters under her breath.
My shoulders shake with silent laughter. This woman is a trip. I can admit my actions have been asshole worthy, as were hers. We’re two peas in a pod.
“I’ve been called worse.” I give her a broad smile, letting her know I take no offense. “Your turn. What’s your name?”
She pointedly lifts her chin in my direction. “Aspen Fair.”
Aspen. Her name suits her, especially with eyes as green as hers. However, the irony isn’t lost on me.
“Perfect name for a tree hugger,” I say sarcastically.
She scoffs, getting to her feet. “Don’t call me that. I’m a forest scientist, or at least I will be once I complete my doctoral from CSU this coming spring.”
Ha! She’s making this too easy. “You being a forest scientist is automatic grounds for being a tree hugger. You didn’t need to go chain yourself to one to earn the title.”
“ARGH! I didn’t chain myself to anything. My idiot boyfriend—” She halts her rant, holding up a finger. “Correction: my idiot ex-boyfriend . He tricked me into it.”
Aspen explains her morning excursion with the yurt squatting tree hugger I cut free prior to her, how she was prepared for a day out with her partner but not a hike in the mountains, how he fooled her into standing under the tree before wrapping a chain around her, and leaving her to scream after him with the oncoming storm on the horizon.
My molars could pulverize rocks into powder with how hard I’m grinding them. Aspen threw a lot of info at me to process. The term “boyfriend” has me seeing red, but learning he’s now an ex calms me for a second until learning the twat’s actions could have killed her.
If I ever come across her ex again… I cock my neck to the side, cracking it under the pressure.
“Anyway, I’m not the brainless idiot you accuse me of being,” Aspen says, finishing her story. “Just na?ve in thinking my partner cared for me.”
The way her bottom lip trembles a moment before she catches herself weighs heavily on my chest.
Damn, I really am an asshole for assuming the worst about her and kicking her while she’s already down. I couldn’t imagine my partner—the person you should trust the most—not giving a shit about my wellbeing and putting me in harm’s way. Not only did she lose a relationship, but it nearly cost her life.
Had I not been there…. I shudder.
Nobody deserves to be abandoned the way he did her. And I don’t want to add to her pain.
“You’re right. I was wrong to assume anything about your situation. The only thing you’re guilty of is picking a shitty boyfriend.”
Aspen glowers at me before turning her head away.
Okay, maybe I need to work on my delivery more—I was a tad too harsh. Guess I’m still an asshole. But I want to be her asshole.
Wanting her attention back on me, I cross the distance between us.
Alerted by my nearness, Aspen’s head swivels back to me. Her brows pull together like she’s trying to figure out what my motive is for being in front of her.
Holding her stare, I tell her how it is. “If you were my woman, there’s no way in hell I’d put your life in danger. You’re too precious to risk for any environmental cause. Your ex is a pathetic partner and you deserve better. I’m glad he’s your ex.”
Surprised by my bluntness, Aspen gasps. She quickly collects herself, straightening her shoulders. “What Gary did sucked. However, he isn’t a bad person—not really. He doesn’t always think things through, especially when he’s high. He loves nature, and everything else comes second.”
“No, darlin’,” I say, shaking my head. “A man who loves you will put you first above everything . If a man needs to use you to be a hero for some cause or his own selfish reasons, he’s not a good man.”
Aspen cocks her head at me. “Shouldn’t I want a hero?”
My mind drifts back to her earlier words while she rested on the couch. She called me her “hero.” I was—I am. But as her hero, she comes first. Poor woman doesn’t know she deserves more, even after I told her she does. How can I break this to her gently without scaring her?
The wheels in my head spin. But the only solution good enough for any woman, especially one who takes no shit like Aspen, is to be straight with her.
All humor gone from my face, I move closer to her. Aspen eyes go wide, but she doesn’t back away from me. I admire that—a woman who stands her ground is hot as sin and deserves respect.
As I loom over her, I brush a lock of her chestnut hair behind her delicate ear. Aspen’s eyes flutter a moment before springing open to stare at me as intently as I stare at her.
“By your definition, a hero will sacrifice you for the greater good. That’s not a man you want. A real man will sacrifice everything to keep you. A real man will be a hero to you alone, as he should be. It’s what I would do if you were mine.”
Aspen’s mouth falls open in stunned silence, unconsciously tempting me. The things I would love to do with her mouth.
I hold my hand out to her, willing her to take it.
“Fuck the hero. Pick a real man, darlin’.”