Chapter 28

Twenty-Eight

Use me .

The words seemed to dance around Ash. Teasing. Tempting.

He'd just had her at the track. Her body moving with his. Her hips rocking in his lap. Her eyes like fire as they'd locked with his.

She'd felt like a miracle in his arms. A sweet breeze caressing his skin. A raging fire, burning away his uncertainty. A sword killing his demons.

For a woman so soft, she had her sharp edges, and damned if she hadn't used that blade to cut through all his bullshit. All his fears. His regrets. She'd taken it all down to that warm and gooey center.

Need.

Desire.

Bree Bernstein had stolen his heart months ago.

Use her, she'd said?

Oh, yes, he would use her. He'd own her. He'd claim her. He'd break them both into a thousand pieces only to come back together stronger than ever.

He would make her his own, all the while knowing that he was already hers, and that she craved their connection—body and soul—as much as he did.

That was the real crux of it, wasn't it? They'd both proclaimed to be loners, and maybe they were. But only with the rest of the world. The truth was, neither one of them had ever been alone. They'd always had each other.

It had just taken a significant chunk of both their lifetimes to find that out.

"Yes," he whispered, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her to him. He kissed her long and deep, then pushed her back onto the mattress so that she looked up at him, laughing.

She was back in that dress again—they really should get her a new outfit, but he'd become attached to that wicked, wonderful dress. "Take it off," he ordered, then watched in awe as she tugged it down and shimmied out of it, leaving her naked on the spread.

"You're beautiful." The words were more than a whisper. They were a prayer. And she was the altar at which he would worship.

She rolled over onto her hands and knees, then crawled across the mattress toward him. "I'm nowhere near as pretty as you are."

He laughed. "Okay. I'll give you that one."

"Hey!" She grabbed one of the throw pillows and tossed it at him. He ducked, and when she grabbed another and started to throw, he caught her wrist instead. Then he tugged her toward him until she was naked on her knees, and he slid off the bed to stand in front of her.

"I like that," he said, then slowly traced a fingertip over her perfect skin. Gliding over hips, breasts. Watching the little shivers. The way her nipples puckered. The cadence of her breath. The tempo of her heart.

He cupped her neck with one hand and met her eyes, almost done in by the heat he saw there. A need that seemed to rival his own.

Then he slid his hand down to cup her between her legs. She gasped and started to close her eyes.

"No. Keep them open. Look at me."

She bit her lip, but she didn't argue, and as his fingers played with her slick core—as he thrust his fingers deep inside her—she kept her eyes fixed on his. Eyes that went dark with longing.

Eyes that seemed to see all the way into his soul.

And when he felt her core tighten around his fingers and her body shake, he saw wild pleasure and a greedy desire fill those eyes.

He knew it was desire for him.

Roughly, he pushed her back so that she fell against the mattress. Then he straddled her naked body, still fully dressed himself.

He held himself over her, his cock straining at his clothes as he teased kisses down her body.

He loved the taste of her. The soft noises she made. The feel of her skin against his lips. She was so wet. So needy.

And he was so hard. So wanting.

He could have kissed her for hours, but then she whispered his name. And that was his undoing.

He had to have her. Had to claim her and make her his own. And as she begged, he fumbled for his fly, then thrust inside her, already knowing she was wet and ready.

She made such wonderful sounds as he fucked her. The way she cried for more. The way she screamed his name when he took her to that precipice. That cliff where pleasure is so potent it borders on pain.

He wanted to make the pleasure last forever for both of them, but he couldn't. She meant too much, and he couldn't hold back.

He exploded inside her, the climax so powerful it felt like he'd snuffed out the world. This was more than lust. More than their deal.

"You're mine," he whispered. Easing up so that he was holding himself over her. "It's not about the money. It's not about sex. It's not about the fact that I might die if I don't fuck you again soon. It's about us. You're mine, Bree."

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm yours." She reached up and slid her fingers into his hair. "I think I have been for a very long time."

For a moment, their eyes locked, then he fumbled out of his pants before entering her again, taking it as slowly as he could stand. Their locked gaze never wavered.

"Mine," he whispered. And again and again, until they exploded together, their atoms mingled, and the words were made real.

I curl up as close to Ash as humanly possible, reveling in the way his body feels against mine. Awed by how safe I feel in his embrace. "I can't decide if you wore me out or revved me up," I say, making him laugh.

"Both, I think," he says. "Only you're the one who wore me out."

"Let's share that trophy." I roll over so that I'm facing him, my leg thrown over his body so that I can soak in his warmth.

I rest my head on his chest, then sigh as he strokes my hair. It's not something I usually like, but for some reason when Ash plays with my hair, I want to close my eyes and just revel in the feel of it.

Sappy . I'm definitely sliding into the land of sappy.

And the truly crazy thing? I don't mind at all.

"Tomorrow we're getting you a new dress from one of the boutiques downstairs," he says.

"But Nikki's dress is just getting broken in."

"Don't tease, or you'll be stuck with it. I'm rather fond of the way you look in that thing."

I consider tossing out one more sarcastic comment but hold it back. The dress truly has seen better days. "Fair enough," I say. "And speaking of dresses, I need to text the girls at the Ripped Bodice to see if they have a security camera installed inside."

That's the bookstore you were signing at, right? I thought you already had."

"Meant to. Got sidetracked." Our evening in the stands wasn't what had erased that errand from my mind, but that's what pops into my head. I snuggle closer, and sigh. "Is it crazy that I feel so good right now?"

He shifts so that he's propped up on an elbow, his fingertips idly stroking my skin. "What do you mean?"

"Just that someone's blackmailing me, and there's a very good chance that no matter whether we pay or not those horrible pictures of me will end up all over social media."

"Baby, no?—"

I press my finger to his lips, cutting him off. "I know you're going to do everything you can to make sure that doesn't happen. But it's still possible. But that's not even my point. I'm just saying that my life could flip completely upside down five minutes from now, but in this moment, I feel good."

I trace my fingertip down over his bare chest. "I feel good because of you." I hesitate, gathering courage. "Am I crazy?"

"Probably," he says, then brushes a kiss over my lips. "But at least we'll be crazy together, because I feel the exact same way."

"Yeah?" I'm smiling like a fifteen-year-old girl just asked to the prom by the senior jock.

"Yeah," he says, then nods at my phone. "Send that text in the morning. Right now, let's get some sleep."

I start to roll over, then pause. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Anything."

"That woman. The one in the video who jumped. Why did it hurt you to see that?"

I'm hurting him now, I realize, just by asking the question. "Never mind," I say. "You don't have to talk about it."

From the silence that hangs between us, I think he's going to take me up on that, but then he says, "Delia."

There's a long pause before he continues. "We dated for a while. She was a sweet girl. A little too quiet and shy, but we had fun, and I even congratulated myself for pulling her a bit out of her shell. I ended up breaking up with her, and it was just your normal breakup. But I guess she snapped. There was a place we used to go. A lookout on some cliffs, and she asked me to meet her there one day. Said she had a present for me."

He draws a breath, and I reach for his hand. "She told me she was pregnant." His voice is low. Flat. "Said I needed to take care of her. I told her it wasn't mine. But she got agitated. So angry. She called me all sorts of names, and I just lost it."

I swallow. "You pushed her?"

His eyes widen. "God, no. I told her I wasn't going to be harassed. That I'd had a vasectomy, so I knew it couldn't be mine."

"You lied?"

"I told her the truth. I had it done when I turned eighteen. My mother? That horrible aunt I lived with. Not to mention the lies I'd believed about Damien." He shakes his head. "Not the genetic pool I wanted for my kids." He brushes his fingers tenderly over my arm. "Problem?"

I meet his eyes, sure he's teasing. But he's serious. Something warm and fuzzy flips inside me. "I think that's great. You can always adopt." I swallow. "It's something I've thought about, too." I don't tell him that I thought about it after Rory. Back when I didn't think I'd ever want to be with a man again. Or if I did want, that I wouldn't be able to handle it.

I'm handling it just fine with Ash. So far, at least.

"What happened?"

"I left her there." His voice is flat, and he shuts his eyes. She left a voicemail for a friend. She said the baby was mine. She said I was vile and wouldn't help her."

"She jumped?"

"She did. It was a small story at the time. I was racing, so it got some press, but nothing major. Then as I got more well-known, the media dragged it up again and again. But nobody bothered to report that the baby wasn't mine. Or that she'd been seeing a psychiatrist and had stopped taking her meds. Then the story got told and retold and embellished, and I came out looking about as bad as a man can look."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"I'm sorry I didn't try to help her. She was trying to pull me into a problem that wasn't mine, and I turned away from her. I felt trapped and protected myself instead of trying to help her through it."

"You couldn't have known she would jump," I tell him, a bit awed that even though her lies tarnished his reputation, he still feels more compassion than anger. Especially since I know that once he gained fame racing, there'd been a steady flow of women who've monetized dates with him by selling stories to tabloids.

"It wasn't your fault," I say again. "She was broken. I know a little bit about that."

His smile is gentle as he twines my fingers with his. "You're stronger than you think," he says, then pulls me close for a long, sweet kiss. The kind that makes my head spin and my whole body sigh. I snuggle close. "How can you like me with all my flaws?"

"You see flaws. I see strength. Besides, I could ask you the same question."

I grin. "What makes you think I like you?"

We share a smile. Then a soft kiss. I'm tired, my body heavy with exhaustion, but Ash has fired my senses. I move closer pressing my breasts against his chest. My eyes looking into his. I feel bold. Sexy.

Reckless.

This is me, but at the same time, it isn't. It's need and hunger. Desire and lust.

Mostly, though, it's trust. "Ash." His name is a whisper on the air, barely escaping before my mouth closes over his. His arms tighten around me, one hand sliding down to cup my ass and press me closer. He's already hard, and the pressure of his cock makes me moan against his mouth. Makes me want and need. Makes desire so palpable it's like hunger, and right then, I am truly starving.

But the only thing I crave is Ash. It's like he's a miracle. A man who's come in and swept my fears away. Since Rory, there's been no one. I tried twice. Sweet guys. Gentle. But both times I ended up curled up in a ball and begging them to leave.

With Ash, I'll beg him to stay. He's like a drug to me. Cutting away my resistance. Making me wild, unabashed.

Hungry.

And every touch, every caress, every hard, deep thrust feeds that hunger until I am sated and satisfied.

Most of all, though, I'm safe in the circle of his arms. Here, my fears can't even get close.

"I didn't expect you," I murmur, already half-asleep.

"I know," he says, as he pulls the covers over us both. "I didn't expect you, either."

I fear it will take a while for sleep to creep up on me. I'm too afraid the dream will come. Rory. The kidnapping.

But all that comes is sweet oblivion, then a shaft of sunlight peeking through the drapes to push me gently into morning.

I roll toward Ash and snuggle closer, wondering if the dreams are simply giving me breathing room… or if Ash really is a man who can truly keep them at bay.