Читать книгу The Dare Collection: June 2018 - Lauren Hawkeye - Страница 19

CHAPTER TEN

HE DESERVED A damned medal. He’d spent the entire afternoon and evening with a fake smile plastered on his face, walked his sister down the aisle and kept his opinions to himself, when all he wanted to do was drag Harley aside and beg her to reconsider her rash decision. He couldn’t deny the ceremony, under a rose-clad arbour, had been touching. And Harley looked so happy—even he’d had a lump in his throat, especially when he’d glanced sideways at a stunning Essie and seen her pretty eyes shining with emotion.

And he was man enough to accept that his feelings were about him. His issues. Nothing to do with Harley and Jack, who’d had the wedding they’d wanted today—intimate, full of laughter and in exquisite surroundings.

But he couldn’t shake his demons.

His mother, too, looked beautiful, but her face was drawn and pale. She’d lost weight in the weeks since he’d left New York. It couldn’t be easy for her being here alone at her daughter’s wedding, her brave face fooling no one. And he’d left her behind to deal with the fallout of her rotten marriage. To deal with the public speculation. To deal with his shame.

Ash looked out across the gently sloping vineyards from the terrace where he’d detoured after a trip to bathroom. He sucked in air that felt too thin and willed his stray emotions back under control.

This whole fucking wedding thing had unsettled him anew. Not because he was still hung up on the ex not worth his consideration, but because Essie’s gentle probing over the last few days and his cathartic confessions had thrown up comparisons, ones between him then and him now, and the evidence was growing increasingly hard to bury.

He’d struggled to answer Essie’s questions about love, because the truth was he could hand on heart admit that he probably hadn’t loved his fiancée. Not the way he should have. The way Essie described with her fun facts and scientific evidence. No wonder his ex had looked elsewhere.

And it wasn’t the loss of that imagined love that had hurt so much. It wasn’t even the lies, the deception. What hurt the most was that he’d handed over control of his happiness to those unworthy of it. He’d held himself back for so long after Maggie, believing the worst, something he never wanted to experience again.

All he’d done was live a half-life in between and then hurt others in his frustration with himself, his mother in particular.

Perhaps he was incapable of the kind of love Essie described. A chip off the old block. As ruthless, selfish and incapable of a meaningful, honest relationship as Hal Jacob. Genetics must count for something. But would he ever know if he refused to even consider the possibility?

Essie.

She was so open, so honest and so giving. Way too good for him with his issues and his rigid rules and his impenetrable guard.

Ash spun towards the festivities. He’d left her alone for too long. Not that he could claim her as his date, but, between him and Ben, they’d managed to keep both of their single sisters occupied on the dance floor all evening.

He re-entered the conservatory, his stare scanning for her. Her ready touch was the only thing to ease his restlessness. Her bright smile. And her dirty laugh. Even her fun facts.

The way she looked up at him. The way she embraced their chemistry with her cheeky sense of humour and her quirky logic. The way she commanded her femininity with grace and steely determination, and a massive heart.

He found her talking with Ben at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. The happy couple and Alex and Libby slow danced under the twinkle of a thousand lights.

Ben saw Ash approach and lifted his chin in greeting before kissing Essie’s cheek and heading towards the hotel’s main foyer.

Her porcelain skin glowed pale under the lights and her eyes peeled back his layers, leaving him raw and more conflicted than ever.

‘Are you okay?’ She stepped closer, her stare flicking to the dance floor before settling back on his.

Ash threw caution to the wind and curved his hand over her hip. He hated that he couldn’t touch her when he wanted to. Hated that he’d left it to Harley to introduce her to his mother as ‘Ben’s sister’. Hated that the past he couldn’t let go, his hang-ups, had placed a filter across her pretty eyes.

‘I’m fine. Are you having fun?’

She nodded. Her hand brushed his, fingers lingering for a second. ‘You don’t look fine.’

He couldn’t fool her. ‘I’m just worried about my mother—she’s lost a little weight. I feel responsible.’

Ash guided her to a chair and took the one opposite. Her small frown and worry-etched eyes slayed him. He shouldn’t have said anything. Should have allowed her to enjoy the festivities while he attended his pity party, solo.

He clasped both her hands in his while his mind raced with all the ways he’d been an idiot.

‘Have you talked it through with her? I’m sure she doesn’t hold you responsible.’

‘She doesn’t, but being the messenger of doom sucks whichever way you look at it. I can never take it back, or undo the pain.’

‘But you were right. Better she heard it from you than someone else.’ She paled and looked away. ‘I feel guilty...about Ben.’ Her teeth pulled at her lip. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’ She stared at her lap, where her hands clenched.

He spoke softly, too uncertain of his own thoughts, motivations and emotions. ‘How am I looking at you?’ How did he feel about her revelation?

‘Like you expect my brother to march you to the nearest church with a shotgun aimed between your shoulder blades.’ She was too perceptive. Saw him way too clearly.

‘I—’

Had their secret-keeping days come to an end? A natural conclusion? Her limpid eyes lanced him, and he wanted to wrap her in his arms, to carry her out of here and kiss her until she looked at him as she’d done on Saturday night after their shower.

‘Why don’t we talk about it when we’re back in London?’ It was about time he manned up. Came clean with Ben. It was his responsibility. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her, despite his damned pathetic rules. Perhaps if he ended things now, he could go to Ben in all honesty and say, ‘It happened, but it’s over.’

His guts twisted with eye-watering force.

The thought of going back to being friends with Essie, or even acquaintances, left him more impotent and off balance than when he’d sweated his way down the aisle this afternoon with his sister on his arm and a hundred different divorce scenarios in his head.

But Essie deserved a full relationship with her brother. He wouldn’t stand in the way.

She looked over his shoulder to where Harley, Hannah and Jack were huddled around Hannah’s phone laughing, probably at some atrocious selfie. ‘You have a great family. Aside from my mum, Ben’s all I have.’

Ash’s chest grew tighter and tighter. Telling Ben about them would shift things between him and Essie far outside the realms of fun. But if he was honest he’d lost his precious control of this attraction days ago.

Fight for her.

Where the fuck had that come from?

She looked wearier than he’d ever seen her. He’d underestimated the toll this had all taken on her, or he’d seen it but ignored it because he was selfish and wanted her still. He cupped her cheek. ‘Why don’t you head upstairs? Take a bath? Things are pretty much over here. Just some mushy shit going on over there.’ He jerked his head back in the direction of his sappy sisters, who were a bit tipsy and had sandwiched Jack between them on the dance floor for one last slow dance.

She nodded, her eyes glassy as she stared at their entwined fingers in her lap. And then she shook it off, her expression brightening as she watched the twin sandwich on display. ‘Fun fact—did you know that simply holding hands with the person you love can alleviate pain and fear and reduce stress? It’s the oxytocin the brain releases.’

He nodded, his throat so damned tight he had to loosen his collar. ‘I’ll tell the happy couple.’

She stood, glancing over at the dance floor. ‘I think they know.’ She smiled down at him, the saddest smile he’d ever seen, before she turned to leave.

He halted her retreat. ‘Don’t worry about Ben.’

She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about your mum.’

She left him floundering at the centre of the monumental mess he’d made.

* * *

Ash tapped gently on the door to Essie’s hotel room, his eyes scanning the corridor. He had no explanation for why he stood at her door at one a.m., for any of the wedding party who might spot him. He just knew a team of wild horses couldn’t keep him away.

If this was to be their last night before he confronted Ben tomorrow, he just had to kiss her one last time. Hold her once more. See the rapture on her face as they shared one last intimacy. Somehow, between the fun facts and the fun sex, she’d worked her way under his skin. All of her—her beauty, her vulnerabilities, her thirst for new experiences.

The door flew open and there she stood, dressed in a baggy, oversized T-shirt that hung from one shoulder, her long, pale legs leading to the views of nirvana he knew were underneath. He had no right to touch her—he never had—but he wanted her anyway. With the same ferocity of need he’d experienced since the day they’d met.

How had he ever imagined himself immune to her? He was a fool and it was too late for a vaccine.

‘Invite me in.’ He tried to temper the gruffness from his voice, but he craved her so badly he could hardly draw breath. Perhaps it was the promise of one last time. But however he looked at it, he couldn’t stay away. And he suspected it was simply Essie herself that drove his uncontrollable need. A need he’d have to quash soon.

Unless you keep her.

Fuck. She wasn’t a possession. And she deserved way more than a commitment-phobic, cynical asshole like him. She deserved her happily-ever-after—the whole cake, not just the crumbs. Her scientific love. And he was the last man qualified to give her that.

But he could give her the only thing he’d ever given her.

A fun time. A new experience.

Why did it sound so empty? Hollow? Pathetic?

She held the door open and he stepped inside. As soon as she’d shut it behind him, she turned to face him. ‘I need to talk to—’

Ash pressed his fingers over her soft lips. ‘I know what you need. What we both need.’ He’d made his decision to talk to Ben. The mess he’d made of his personal life was old news and he’d be damned if he spent what little remaining time he had left with her trawling through his issues.

He might not be the man for her long term, but he could show her how rare and precious she was, and what she did to him and, hopefully, when they parted, she would feel her own worth and have nothing to regret.

She nodded, her breathtaking face lifted to his as he dragged her close with one arm banded around her waist and slanted his mouth over hers. Her soft lips parted under his with a sigh. As always, she embraced what they shared, never once pressing him for labels, or more than he could offer.

Did anyone deserve a woman as amazing as Essie?

Ash bunched the hem of her shirt in his fists and lifted it over her head, breaking from their kiss for the split second it took to dispense with the garment and slide his stare over her magnificent nakedness. He scooped his arms around her waist, hoisting her from her feet and stumbling backwards towards the bed so she sprawled over him, covering him from chest to thigh in a tumble of naked limbs and a cloud of Essie-scented hair.

Ash filled his lungs and his hands with her, memorising every nuance of this unique woman. With every passing beat, her kisses grew more desperate, the breathy moans in her throat more frantic and her fingers more insistent. And her ardour matched his.

Ash rolled them so she lay under him, her writhing body urging him on. She tugged at his shirt and he helped her, yanking it up from behind his head and tossing it aside.

Skin to warm skin.

Ash gripped one of her thighs, pushing her open to slot his hips in between. He captured one pink-tipped nipple, laving and lapping until she bucked in his arms and tugged at his hair, the wild, demanding side of her never far from the surface. His kisses followed the bumps of her ribs, the dip of her navel and the hollows beneath her hip bones.

He slid to the floor, tugging her ass to the edge of the bed until he was satisfied with her position. He spread her open, his gaze devouring every perfect pink inch of her.

Just one more taste.

He pressed a kiss to each thigh and then he leaned in to touch the tip of his tongue to her clit.

She sucked in a gasp, her hands fisting the bedspread. ‘Ash...’

He pulled back, a rock the size of the Isle of Wight lodged in his chest. ‘Say it again. Say my name.’ Some base part of him needed to hear her call out for him, to know that he wasn’t alone with his unrest. To know that she saw him and only him.

She nodded and he dived once more for the slick haven between her thighs. ‘Ash...’ She resumed her chant, his name over and over again, while he licked and flicked and suckled.

Every time she spoke his name, his fingers clung to her thighs with a fraction more force, as if he wanted to stamp his presence all over her from head to toe, leaving no doubt. He pushed the crazy idea aside, focussing on the catches in her throat as he forced her higher and higher.

She wasn’t his.

‘Yes...Ash...I’m close.’ Her thighs juddered against his face and he ceased his efforts. He wanted to be inside her when she came, her muscles gripping him like a fist as she wailed his name for the last time.

She cried out, but when he tore into his fly, shoving his pants down with impatient jerks and pulling a condom from the pocket, she helped him, pushing at the denim and sliding her hands up and down the backs of his thighs.

Ash gripped the foil between his teeth and then covered himself. He shucked the jeans with a kick. Gripping her hips, he tilted her ass from the bed and plunged inside her with one thrust. Her body welcomed him, warm and tight and as close to perfect as he’d ever experienced.

He held himself still, allowing her to grow accustomed to him inside her and allowing him time to breathe around the block of concrete where his lungs should be. Ash held her stare while their chests heaved in unison, the patter of her heartbeat strong and rapid against his chest.

‘Ash...’ She sighed, her fingers dancing over his back, his shoulders and across his chest. He gipped one wandering hand, his fingers interlocking with hers while he pressed it to the mattress, and then followed suit with the other hand.

Her touching him with tender fingertips, while looking at him the way she was...it was too much. Too close to something he’d forsaken for good. Too raw a reminder that, one day, some other lucky bastard would be gifted this woman’s love.

He rocked into her, his thrusts growing in speed and power as if he was chasing down his demons. Every time he slammed home a tiny gasp left her throat. It was a sound he’d remember his whole life. Her wide eyes clung to him as if begging. Only, he was the one who should be on his knees. Worshipping.

Her breasts jiggled, desperate for his tongue, but he’d reached the point of no return, reached his limit. He released one of her hands to scoop her thigh higher until it curved over his hip. Holding it there, he sank lower, the last inch into her tight heat.

‘Yes...Ash...that’s—’ She never finished the sentence. Her orgasm struck, her head stretched back as she gasped a prolonged wail and clamped down on him so hard, he almost closed his eyes in ecstasy. But then he’d have missed her riding out her climax with her beautiful stare on him, her swollen mouth slack as her moans petered into pants.

His head swam as oxygen deprivation sucked him under.

‘Ash.’ She cupped his face, pressing her mouth to his.

He collapsed forward as fire raced along his spine and down the length of his cock. He buried his face in her neck as he ground his hips through the last of the spasms. He wasn’t gentle. His facial hair would mark her, but he needed a minute to flounder in private from the purging flood of emotions he daredn’t name. A minute to swallow the incredible high she’d often told him existed. He crushed her beneath him while he reeled, spent, panting and completely mind-fucked.

Essie ran her fingers through his hair, her soft lips pressing kisses to his temples, his ear, the side of his neck. The see-sawing of his chest dwindled away until he struggled to suck even one molecule of air past his tight throat. His scalp prickled and the sheen of sweat on his skin turned icy cold.

He shifted, gently withdrew from her languid embrace and shuffled to the en-suite to dispose of the condom. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror while he washed his hands. He knew what he’d see. A stupid fuck who’d broken his number one rule in life and was now paying the ultimate price. The only thing he’d had to avoid and he’d gone and done it anyway.

His best friend’s sister. A wonderful woman he couldn’t have and didn’t deserve. A woman professionally obsessed with relationships and romantic love—two things he sucked at and had spent years forsaking. A woman who deserved a man to love her one hundred and ten per cent. To be all in. To worship her and leave her in no doubt that she was his number one priority.

No way could fucked-up Ash be that man.

Keeping his gaze averted, he returned to the bedroom to find Essie wrapped in a white sheet, her face peaceful in sleep.

Indulging in one last, ill-advised move, he slipped into the bed beside her and fell asleep with her perfectly slotted into his arms.