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I think of losing my parents. I think of all the times in my life, before he walked into it, that I was alone. I think of my efforts to keep it that way, to protect myself, and yet, I let my guard down with him. I let him in. I think of my broken down car and the moment of weakness that had driven home my loneliness. And so, I’d walked to that bar, and now, here we are. I stare up at this gorgeous man who has taken over my life, and I’m reminded of not just my history, but his. “I seem to remember you telling me that the fact I was alone like you were alone was part of what brought us together. In fact, in our time together, you said that to me over and over. I was alone for most of my damn life, Aaron.”
His expression softens, and he cups my face, stepping into me. “I know, baby. So was I. That’s my point. We aren’t alone anymore. We have each other.”
I lean back to look at him, shadows stroking his handsome face. “I think a part of me always knew I didn’t really have all of you.”
“You have everything I have to give, woman. Everything. You just don’t trust me right now. Even if you say you do, the pain of my lies is still there. We both know it.”
“But I do trust you,” I confess, because no matter how right or wrong that statement is, it’s honest, and I need honesty right now. “Beyond logic, beyond what might be called sanity, which is why the shadows in your eyes, the fears, and doubts I see there, scare me. You hurt me last time. If you leave again, you’ll destroy me if I let you. I can’t let you.”
His hand flattens on my lower back, and he molds me closer. “I can’t lose you, woman. Don’t do this.” His face is close to mine, his breath warm on my face. “I want to be what you need me to be.”
I wrap his T-shirt in my hand and look up at him. “Then trust me to be able to handle this. Trust your instincts that told you I could, or you would have walked away a long time ago. Or, you wouldn’t have put that ring on my finger. I can’t love you and lose you again.” A realization comes over me. “If you’re afraid I’ll leave, I won’t.”
“I’m afraid you’ll fucking die.”
“If I do, it will be living a life I chose, living a decision I made.”
“But you didn’t choose any of this. I did that for you, and one day, Ashley, you may wake up and hate me for that.”
“You won’t know if you leave. So I guess it’s your turn. We’ve come full circle. Are you going to give me the time to prove to you that won’t ever happen?”
Chapter thirty-six
Ashley
“Well?” I challenge.
“I didn’t know I had that option, considering you just told me you were done,” he says. “It seems I’m not the only one yo-yoing about.”
“There’s no yo-yo to what I think or feel,” I argue. “It’s you who’s yo-yoing and that’s exactly what I can’t deal with in my life right now.”
“I’m worried about ruining your life. I’m worried about your safety. That doesn’t make me a bastard.”
“And yet, you are one. You make you a bastard. You believe that about yourself, and therefore, we can’t get to the other side of this. We won’t.”
“Do either of us even know if you’ll love the real me, Ashley? We can’t get out of this fuck show to find out.”
“I knew,” I say. “I told you. On some level, I knew what you were; I felt it. I freaking liked it. Now you’re here, the real you, and I have two choices: learn to fight harder and embrace this life or curl up and die. I choose to fight. I choose you, but I’m just not sure you choose me. Maybe you want an out.”
His hand slides under my hair, folding around my neck. “I choose you.” With that, his mouth slants over mine, his tongue sliding deep, stroking against mine, sending a wave of heat through my body. I’m hot. I’m burning alive. My sex clenches, my breasts are heavy. My nipples ache for his touch, his lips, his tongue. I slide my arms around him, sink into him, give myself to him, the way I have ever since I met him.
And just that easily, we snap.
A desperation rises fast and hard between us.
We’re kissing, crazy, wild kissing, our hands all over each other, the taste of desperation on our tongues. Two people who have lived for control and lived alone to help maintain that control, now have no control and desperately need each other.
We’re touching each other like we’ll never touch again, like we each fear the other will leave, or worse, the other will be taken from us. We’re two people on the verge of an explosion, hungry in ways that only living on the edge can create. My hands slide under his T-shirt, and he tears his mouth from mine, unhooking his shoulder strap and then placing his guns on the nightstand. It’s stone like the island downstairs. It’s the first thing about the room I’ve noticed besides the man in it with me. He tears his shirt over his head, and already, I’m pressing my palms back to his warm, taut skin, reveling in this escape we’re sharing that will never last.
“Noah,” I whisper, and I don’t apologize for that name, nor the plea in it, a plea that I barely understand, beyond the need expanding inside me now.
He doesn’t chide me for the name. He kisses me again, and I burn with the deep, seductive stroke of his tongue that I feel from head to toe. A soft sound escapes my throat, and I arch into him, and that one small act seems to set him off, no, it sets us off. A frenzied rush of touching each other’s bodies ensues, ending with my shirt and bra on the hardwood floor. I’m panting when Noah’s gaze rakes over my breasts, lingering on my puckered nipples, my sex clenching, my breasts heavy.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, molding me closer, my bare breasts to his impressively hard chest. “This is what I want, you, me, naked and alone for the rest of our lives.”
I laugh, a choked, aroused laugh and whisper, “We can’t live in bed.”
“Wanna bet?” he demands softly. “If I get the chance to prove that—”
