Then it's everything I imagined.
His hands are in my hair, tilting my head back so he can kiss me deeper. His tongue is in my mouth, tasting me, claiming me. His body is pressing me hard against the workbench, and I can feel how hard he is against my hip, how much he wants this.
I grind against him just to hear him groan.
"Fuck," he mutters against my mouth. "Knew you'd be like this."
"Like what?"
"Perfect." Another kiss, bruising. "Responsive." His hand slides down my back, grabs my ass, pulls me tighter against him. "So fucking eager for it."
He spins me around before I can respond, pressing my chest to the workbench, his body covering mine from behind. The metal edge digs into my hips but I don't care—all I can feel is him, the heat of his body, the weight of him pressing me down. I can feel him hard against my ass and I push back instinctively, needing more, needing friction, needing—
"Want you," I gasp. "Ash, please—"
His hand slides around to palm me through my jeans and I nearly come just from that, just from the pressure of his hand and the heat of his body and the way he's breathing ragged against my neck.
"Going to fuck you right here," he says, low and rough. "Against this bench. Then again in my bed. Then maybe against the wall if you're still conscious."
"Yes, god, yes—"
But then my brain catches up.
Robin's words echo in my head, cutting through the haze of want. He warned me about this. I know what he meant. Iknow that if I let this happen, if I let Ash fuck me right here in this garage, I'll fall completely. I'll be ruined for anyone else. And when he walks away—because he will, because that's what Robin says he does—I'll have nothing but memories and a hole in my chest where my heart used to be.
My lion is screaming at me to shut up, to take what's being offered, to deal with the consequences later. But the human part of me—the part that's been hurt before, that knows how this ends—that part speaks up.
"Wait."
He freezes instantly. Pulls his hand back, puts space between us, gives me room to breathe. No hesitation, no pushback, no trying to talk me back into it.
"You okay? Too fast?"
"No, I—" I turn in his arms to face him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and he's breathing hard. He looks wrecked, and we've barely started. "What are we doing?"
"Thought it was obvious." His voice is rough. "I'm about to fuck you on this bench."
"And then?"
His expression closes off. The heat is still there, but wariness is creeping in. "Then what?"
"Then what, Ash? After you fuck me. Tomorrow. Next week." I can hear my voice shaking but I can't stop it. "What are we doing?"
"Jason—"
"Do you want to date me? Do you want more than just sex?"
He's still got his hands on my hips, his body still close to mine, but he's gone completely still. The heat between us is still there, crackling like a live wire, but there's something else now too. Something that feels like fear.
"Fuck," he breathes. "Maybe you should go."
My heart cracks. Actually cracks—I swear I feel it split right down the middle.
"Because you don't want more than sex?"
He pulls back to look at me, and his expression is raw. Vulnerable in a way I've never seen from him. This isn't the Ash who walked into the bar on Sunday, all controlled danger and easy confidence. This is someone else. Someone who doesn't know what to do with the question I just asked.
"Because I don't have an answer for you," he says. "Not beyond what we both want right this moment."
