Chapter 7 #3
His eyebrows rise. “I don't have a problem.”
“You've barely spoken to me all night.”
Ash looks away again. The hockey game suddenly becomes fascinating.
My irritation grows. “Did I do something?”
That gets his attention. His eyes flick toward mine. “No.”
“Then what?”
He takes a slow drink from his beer. The silence stretches. I hate it. Mostly because I realize I care. If this were anyone else, I would've let it go. Instead I'm sitting here trying to figure out why Ash suddenly seems distant.
Finally he sets his glass down. His gaze remains fixed on the television.
I wait. Nothing.
A few minutes later, I slide out of the booth. “I'm going to the bathroom.”
Ash barely looks away from the screen. That somehow irritates me even more.
The hallway leading toward the restrooms is narrow and dimly lit. I shove my hands into my pockets as I walk. The knot of frustration follows me.
The bathroom is empty. Good.
I stare at my reflection while washing my hands. The silver hoops catch the overhead light. For a second, I barely recognize myself. The guy staring back looks younger somehow. Less exhausted. Less defeated.
The door opens behind me. I don't need to turn around. My pulse identifies him before my ears do.
I meet Ash's eyes in the mirror. “Following me now?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “You wish.”
I turn toward him. “Then what do you want?”
Ash closes the door behind him. The movement is casual. Deliberate.
The irritation I've been carrying all night immediately returns. “You're being weird.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
Ash folds his arms. “No.”
“See? That. The one-word answers. The other day you were whining about me not paying attention to you and now you won't even look at me.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “I'm talking.”
“Barely.”
For a moment he just looks at me. Then he exhales slowly.
The annoyance I've been noticing all night finally cracks. “I didn't like watching you flirt with your neighbor.”
The statement catches me completely off guard. I blink. Then blink again.
“What?”
Ash's expression immediately hardens.
Not angry. Embarrassed. Which somehow makes this even better.
“Don't start.” A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
He's jealous. The giant defenseman standing in front of me is jealous of Angela. The thought is so ridiculous I start laughing again. Ash doesn't look amused.
“Oh my God.”
“Kai.”
“You're jealous.”
His jaw tightens. “Be careful.”
The words are quiet.
Low.
The same voice he used in the hotel room.
Every bit of amusement leaves my system immediately.
Ash sees it happen. The slight shift in posture. The way my smile disappears. The way my attention sharpens. His expression changes.
Only slightly.
Just enough.
I point at him. “That isn't fair.”
“What isn't?”
“You know exactly what you're doing.”
“Do I?”
I hate how calm he sounds. I hate how much I like it.
Ash takes a step forward. Then another. The distance disappears before I fully register it. My back bumps lightly against the sink counter.
My pulse immediately speeds up. “Ash.”
His name comes out quieter than I intended. For a second neither of us says anything. The tension stretches between us. Then Ash reaches up and hooks a finger beneath my chin. The gesture is simple.
My stomach immediately flips.
“Still think this is funny?”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. That seems to answer his question. A small smile appears.
Then he's kissing me. The kiss starts brief. Almost cautious. A warning. A question.
The second my hand closes around the front of his shirt, something changes. Ash makes a quiet sound low in his throat and kisses me again. Harder this time. The world narrows instantly. The bar disappears. The possibility of somebody walking through that door disappears.
His tongue explores my mouth as his hands slide into the back pockets of my jeans, squeezing my ass. I moan, my hand wrapping around the back of his neck to pull him closer.
All I can focus on is Ash. The certainty in him. The confidence. The way he always seems completely in control. My heart is beating so hard I'm surprised he can't hear it.
When the kiss finally breaks, neither of us moves very far. We're still standing too close. Still breathing the same air. Still looking at each other.
I know my face is red. I probably look ridiculous.
Ash doesn't seem bothered by either fact. His gaze drifts upward. Toward my ears. Something softens in his expression. A look so brief I almost miss it.
“I like these.”
I blink. “The earrings?”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushes lightly against one.
The contact sends a completely unreasonable amount of heat through me.
“You should wear them more often.”
Heat immediately floods my face all over again.
Ash looks entirely too pleased with himself. Then, just like that, he steps away.
The moment breaks. The tension follows him toward the door. He reaches for the handle.
I remain standing against the counter. Trying to remember how breathing works.
And wondering why hearing him say he likes my earrings feels almost as dangerous as hearing him say he was jealous.