Chapter 12

Twelve

I look down at the room key in my hand.

A simple hotel card key, but there's nothing simple about the room number scribbled on it.

I want to go. Right then, I think I want to go to that room more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. So much I can feel my feet starting to lead me in that direction. But I have to slow down. I need to stop and think. Because right now is not the time to be stupid.

So that's what I do. I stop dead in the middle of the lobby, ignoring the curses from other waylaid travelers forced to go around me. Then I let my eyes roam up and down the huge lobby, taking in all the other passengers who've been shuttled here. Some in family groups. Most alone. Like me.

Except I don't have to be alone.

Lightning flashes outside the windows, a rare sight in Los Angeles, and I watch in awe as the sky glows and the walls rumble. It's fabulous and beautiful and strange. And I don't want to be alone. Or maybe that's just an excuse.

I don't know. All I know is that I want what this card key can give me.

I want. And I hate myself for it.

My self-loathing isn't strong enough to stop me, however. There's something about him that pulls me in. That makes me need .

Without even realizing I've made a decision, I hurry forward, and the crowd parts for me like the Red Sea, as if everybody in this hotel knows that I have somewhere to be, and that I need to get there before I lose my nerve.

As I approach the elevator, I look at the key again, surprised to see that the number is still there. Why hasn't it disappeared? Why hasn't everything gone wrong? How is it that this weird, strange day could have turned out so right, and now I'm walking into the promise of something even better?

Ashton Stone .

Something like panic washes over me, leaving my skin feeling prickly and strange. I think that I should stop this nonsense. That I should turn around. But I don't. Instead, I mentally flip my panic the bird, then step into the elevator.

I watch, feeling removed from myself, as my finger rises and stabs the button for the fourteenth floor. Then I look around.

I frown.

When I'd stepped into this small box, I'd thought it was empty. Now it's crowded, and I shake my head at how lost I must have been in my thoughts. I squeeze into the corner, realizing that I'm the only single person here. Everyone else is coupled up, arms around each other. Some look frustrated. Others look happy to have this unexpected break in their travel.

All are looking at me.

I see approval in some eyes. I see contempt in others. I realize I don't care. I want what I want. And what I want is Ash.

I'm hyper-aware of my own body as I step out of the elevator on fourteen. Immediately, I lose my nerve, and I turn around to slide back into the elevator. But it's gone. Not just closed, but gone. I shake my head, realizing I've already walked down the hallway toward Ash's room.

Clearly, I should have stuck with Diet Coke.

I keep walking, looking for the number that is scribbled on the key: 1451. I walk the perimeter three times, but never find it. How the hell is that possible?

I start to worry that this is all a joke. That Ash wrote down the wrong number. That he doesn't really want me there at all.

As soon as the thought enters my head, I'm sure it's true. Tears well in my eyes, and I'm so certain of his duplicity, I start to run. Start to bolt back to the elevator. I can see it in the distance, only it seems to get farther and farther away with every step I take. I struggle on, though, and just as I'm about to reach out and punch the button, I hear my name.

Him . Not ten feet away and standing on the threshold of room 1451.

He holds out his hand, and I go to him.

"You look spooked? Are you okay?"

"I—I think I drank too much. I'm feeling a little off."

"Come on in," he says, urging me inside. Then he shuts the door and puts his hands on my shoulders as he studies my face. "You look fine," he says. Then he leans forward and gently kisses my forehead.

I feel my body stiffen. I know why I came here. I know what I want. Sex has been so hard for me since the kidnapping. As in, I haven't quite managed to even get that far.

With Ash, though… well, I'd come thinking it would be easier with him. But I hadn't expected this. True gentleness. Genuine caring.

I don't know what I'd thought he'd be like. A dream, maybe. Something I'd walk away from and never be sure it was real. And the not knowing would make it be safe.

I can handle fantasy. It's reality that twists me up.

But that single kiss on my forehead feels real, and now I don't know what to do.

"Hey," he says, using the pad of his thumb to brush away a tear. "What is it?"

"I didn't expect this," I admit, shocked I can tell him even that much.

He takes me by the hand and leads me to the couch. We sit, and he draws me in close. "Expect what?"

"You. I never expected you in my life. I never expected you to be like this."

"What's this?" he asks.

"You know."

"Yes," he says, simply. "I do."

And then I'm in his arms. His mouth is on mine, his hands on my shoulders, then sliding down so his thumbs can stroke my breasts.

Now we're in bed, and I'm naked, and I don't even remember getting here, which makes me sad, because I do not want to forget a single moment of this. He is everything I've wanted since the first moment I saw him, and I never even knew it.

How can I have been so aware of this man for so long, but every time I thought too hard about him, I talked myself out of it?

It's a stupid question. Because I know exactly how I kept that distance. And I know why, too.

The thoughts have opened a door, and dark wisps like demon fingers slip into my mind, whispering… whispering.

I try to block the voice. I don't want it in my head. All I want is Ash. The way his body feels. The way he's touching me.

I roll over, using my hands to push his shoulders back as I straddle him. "Please," I say, "please, please just make me forget."

His brow furrows, full of gentleness and concern. "Forget? Forget what?"

"Everything," I say. "Everything but you."

He doesn't smile, but the heat in his eyes says it all. He reaches up and cups the back of my head. Then pulls me down into a kiss that is so deep and so passionate that it's practically a substitute for sex.

His hands roam over me, firing every cell in my body. I'm on my back looking up at him and drowning in the ocean of his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches, not in humor, but as a promise of what's to come.

Then he's kissing me, his body hard against mine, his hands on my wrists holding my arms wide, his tongue teasing and taking as he explores my mouth.

He's naked now, too, though I don't remember him undressing, and he breaks the kiss long enough to pull back and look at me before he starts to move down my body, painting my skin with a trail of kisses.

Lower and lower. His hands teasing my nipples as his tongue laves my clit, his mouth working a magic that has me grinding against him as I fist my hands in his hair and silently beg for more.

Then his hands are on my hips, and I'm lost in the wildness of his ministrations. His mouth. His tongue. His fingers moving from my hip to my core.

"Yes," I whisper. "More," I beg. I'm close, so close, and those red-hot coils of passion tighten inside me like a spring ready to explode. I've never in my life been so turned on, so aware of a man. Never so desperate for a touch.

Never so raw and uninhibited between the sheets.

He's done something to me. He's fixed me somehow. And I have to tell him so. He has to understand how important he is to me.

I open my eyes, needing him to feel, see, and hear the connection when I tell him how much this night means to me.

Then he lifts his head, his mouth leaving my pussy, his lips still wet with my desire.

And that's when I see it. See him.

Rory.

Right there between my legs.

I'm not in bed with Ash at all. I'm in bed with Rory.

I'm in bed with the monster.