Chapter 37Goldie

Chapter 37

Goldie

A fter not getting another moment alone in the living area, I decide I'm going to have to hunt for the last camera at night. Hopefully, first I can find a candle and a match in a junk drawer, because I can't risk turning on any lights or lamps.

The conundrum is that now all three of the individual beds are pushed together—Buck and Nash are on one side of me and Clay and Rusty are on the other. How do I get out of bed without waking any of the four enormous men I'm smack dab in the middle of? With two of them on either side of me, climbing over them without waking someone up isn't likely.

I don't see any other option than to sort of shimmy my body down the bed, inch by inch, careful to keep my movements as discreet as possible, so that's what I do.

When I reach the end of the bed, I manage to gracelessly pull myself into a seated position. After a moment of stillness to check if everyone else is still sleeping—and they seem to be—I gingerly stand up and tiptoe out of the room, through the next bedroom, and into the living room.

Phew.

All is silent. Too silent. Have I worn these big ol' mountain men out to the point where their bodies are too exhausted to snore?

I wait a beat, listening.

Nothing but silence.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I contemplate my next move. Because out in the living area, in the dark, without a flashlight, any move could topple a pile of this or that or the other. Or, more likely—this, that and the other. We've done quite a bit of cleaning, but there's still so many damn piles.

And how am I going to be able to find the camera and take it down without knocking down other crap in the process?

"I need to be able to see, dammit!" I mutter, frustrated.

All of a sudden the lamp beside the couch flickers on and I let out a startled shriek, thinking, Well, that was spooky AF.

Also thinking, Has losing my virginity unlocked some superpower that had been lying dormant inside of me, that allows me to turn on appliances with my sheer will?

But no.

"Hey, firecracker," Ash says, twisting around and grinning at me. He's sitting on the couch. He turned on the lamp.

"Oh!" I press my hand to my heart, willing my pulse to stop all the banging about in there, but the way Ash is looking at me only makes it bang about at a more frenetic pace. "I didn't know anyone was in here. I didn't mean to disturb you…did I wake you?"

"Nah. I was up. Just sittin' and thinkin'," he says.

"About anything in particular?" I don't mean to say it flirtatiously but it comes out that way.

"Anything, everything. How this place needs a new roof, but…it needs a lot more than that." He sighs heavily.

Oh. Okay. So we're not having sexytimes.

"Come sit with me, darlin'?" he says.

I join him on the couch, pulling my feet up underneath me and leaning my head on his shoulder. He adjusts so his arm is around me and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

"So. You need a new roof and—"

Before I can finish the thought, he's moved again, pulling me onto his lap. Okay, maybe we are having sexytimes.

"That comfortable for you? I don't want to hurt your ankle…"

"My ankle's fine," I assure him. "All better."

"Can't think about a damn roof with you around," he says, his voice husky as hell. "I'm hard for you, Goldie."

I had noticed.

Oh, I had noticed.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, giving me an almost shy look which softens his chiseled face, making him look so vulnerable.

At first, I can't speak, and it feels like my heart has jumped into my throat, but I nod. Then I manage, "Ash, you don't have to ask if you can kiss me. We're kind of past that."

It's like all the air in the world completely disappears the moment his lips touch mine, and the only thing keeping me alive is his gentle touch and the taste of him. God, he's so delicious. I want to devour him, pull away from his kiss and nibble every inch of his skin.

"Mmmm. You taste like pure heaven," he whispers against my mouth.

Me? No, he's the one who is heavenly.

Our lips still touching, he murmurs, "I've always had a fantasy about fucking on a table."

Well now.

"Oh, wait," he says.

Wait?!

"Oh, no. No, sir. You cannot tell me you've always had a fantasy of fucking me on the table and—"

"Well," he interrupts, "technically, I didn't say I've always had a fantasy of fucking you on a table. Just that I've had a fantasy of fucking someone on a table."

"Well, I'm the someone that's here now, mister," I remind him.

"But hang on a sec," he says.

"No, no hanging on. No waiting. I want to pursue this line of—"

"Here," he interrupts me again, handing me something. It takes me a minute to recognize that it's my phone, the thing that until very recently used to be an extension of my hand. "I fixed it for you."

"You know how to fix a smartphone?" I ask, disbelieving.

"I figure stuff out." He shrugs. "Anyway, I can get it to power on, but I can't do anything else because you have to have a code."

"Right," I say, and any other time, I'd be so fast punching in that code and making sure I had everything backed up and that it is actually working properly. But right now I want to hear more about the table fucking. "Thank you so much, Ash. I'm so grateful. Truly. But right now, I want to hear more about the table fucking fantasy."

"Well, as a matter of fact…" He brushes my hair off my face, tucking the curls that will behave behind my ears. "I'd love to take you down to the Flamin' Barrel and fuck you on the pool table with every damn body in the village watching."

Okay, I guess exhibitionism is a kink I didn't know I had because that thought makes my clit do things I didn't know clits could do.

"I'd love for you to fuck me doggy style on the stage during half time at the Super Bowl," I say, because I guess dirty talk also does it for me?

His mouth finds mine again and things get a little—okay, a lot—dry humpy as we make out. Then he's standing up, holding me, carrying me over to the table…

Shit. What if the twelfth camera is trained right on the table, to pick up any mealtime conversations when I wasn't around…? I can't remember. Why can't I remember?

I am not the kind of person who tricks another person into making a sex tape, even if no one will ever see it. Even if it's not premeditated trickery.

"I don't think Luke would approve of us fucking on the table where you guys eat," I tell him gently. "Luke or, you know, any of the others."

He tilts his head thoughtfully. "You're probably right. Wanna go back to the couch?"

Nope, because the errant camera could be trained on the couch.

"Um…I really…kind of like doing it outdoors," I say. "What's the weather going to be like tonight?"

"Chilly but clear. You wanna fuck underneath the stars, firecracker? I promise I'll keep you warm."

I nod.

Holding me with one arm, he grabs some blankets with his free hand and takes us out the back door. He maneuvers through all the remaining piles like his legs are the world's steadiest fingers playing a game of Operation. How?

He carries me through the backyard, and he seems to be hell-bent on walking to the edge of the mountain, and I want to scream, Where are you going, just throw me down anywhere and let's get on with it , but that wouldn't be ladylike, now would it?

Finally we arrive at a destination he deems satisfactory. I don't know what makes it special and right now, frankly, I don't care to look around to see. I don't want to look at anything but Ash. He somehow manages to spread the blankets down with one hand without putting me down, the other hand on my ass, my arms linked around his neck. I feel like a doll. A sex doll , I think, which makes me laugh.

Once he has the blankets just so, he lays me down ever so gently and then lies down beside me.

"Look," I say, pointing. I shake my head with wonderment. "Look at all the stars."

It's like someone has thrown a handful of glitter up into the sky.

"It's beautiful up here," I whisper.

"It sure as hell is," Ash says. I glance at him. He's looking at me.

He takes my hand in his. "Now that we're out here, I can't help thinking…" he whispers, giving my fingers a squeeze. "It's kind of romantic, huh?"

And I'll be damned if there's not a shooting star.

"It is," I reply.

"You want me to make love to you underneath all these stars, firecracker?" he asks.

He wants to make love to me? Does the use of the L-word break our only friendship and sex arrangement? I decide it does not. I mean, it totally does, but…my stupid heart has been breaking that arrangement all over the damn mountain.

"Yes, I want you to make love to me, Ash," I say without another beat. "Very much yes."