The question surprised me, and I paused in the action of tugging his T-shirt over his head. “Why do youthink?”
“Iwannaknow.”
“You don’talready?”
“How would I when you don’tspeak?”
I frowned.Is he serious?Ash wasn’t much of a joker, but at this time of night, miles from home and more than a little wasted, Icouldn’ttell.
Years ago, the unsettling disquiet in the pit of my stomach would’ve been enough to pour water on the fire between us. But things were different now—Ashwas different—I’d learned to trust him to call timeout on fooling around if hecouldn’tdeal.
I pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then I took his face in my hands and kissed him hard. “I want you to fuck me.Thatokay?”
The silence was so brief, I convinced myself it hadn’t happened. And then Ash was on me. He shoved me onto my back and shed his clothes. “Whatever you want,fucker.”
He made short work of playing my body, pressing the buttons he knew so well. But I didn’t let him go without, and by the time he eased inside me with a slow slide that made my eyes roll, we were both on the edge of something crazy. And it didn’t stay slow for long. Ash pushed me up against the headboard and held my knees against my chest. He drove into me with the brutal thrusts I craved so much, and his sweat dripping onto my tingling skin sent me wild. I thrashed beneath him, absorbing every gasp and groan that fell from his swollen lips. I’d have pulled his face down and swallowed them all with a crushing kiss, but I was too far gone for anything thatcoordinated.
He let go of my legs and dropped his chest to mine. I arched my back to take him deeper. “Don’t stop,don’tstop.”
In answer, he fucked me harder until I saw stars and came in a rush of groaned expletives, and he wasn’t far behind. I forced my eyes open to watch him come. Ash setting himself free was so fucking beautiful that I never passed over a chance to see it. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, his face caught in a gentle snarl. I found his hands and squeezed them tight and then arched against him as he shot inside me, my nerves still on fire from my ownrelease.
Ash made no sound, but he didn’t always. And I didn’t care. He didn’t need to shout for me to see the tendons straining in his neck or his white knuckles as his fingers wrapped around mine tight enough to bend my bones. Hell no. I knew every moment we sharedwasreal.
He stilled inside me and then withdrew, easing out of me as carefully as he’d slid home. Then he flopped onto his back, panting hard. When he’d caught his breath, his sigh was barely audible, but I heard it all the same, and his disappointment hit me like atruck.
Frustration warred with hopelessness because I couldn’t fix it. I knew what he wanted—he wanted me to fuck him, but Icouldn’t. There was a monster in me that he didn’t know about, and I couldn’t lay a hand on him that way until itwasgone.
ChapterSeven
Ash
Pete nudged my leg under the table. “Seriously? That’s all you’reeating?”
Startled out of my morose daze, I glowered at him and shoved my uneaten waffles his way. Was it my fault I always felt his hangovers more than he did? He’d woken up with no more than a distant headache and a craving for doughnuts while I felt liketotalcrap.
I wanted to hate him for it, but I couldn’t. And despite the grouchy mood I’d woken up in, I couldn’t deny that the sight of the gay cat club across the street made me smile. Clubs weren’t my thing, but it was different with Pete. The heady atmosphere did something to us, and even though it had failed to break the sexual stalemate between us, we’d still shared the best night we’d had inmonths.
“What are you thinking about?” Pete was peering at me over his coffee cup. “You’ve gotthatlook.”
“Whatlook?”
“The one where you’re either thinking something dirty or you’re about to call me out for being a douche aboutsomething.”
He was more right than I cared to admit, though I couldn’t exactly call him a douche. Without the lingering heat of the club clouding my thoughts, I saw now that there was no way he ever would have fucked me last night, even without whatever had stopped him every other night in the last eleventy months. Peteneverfucked me when he was drunk, and that shit was all mine,nothis.
Fuck, Ilovehim.
The realization was hardly new, but it struck me silent all the same. After a protracted moment, Pete let me be. I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them, closing my eyes and shutting out the early morning buzz of the diner. I wasn’t ready to face the world yet, and a big part of me wanted to climb in the van and drive all the way home. If we didn’t stop, we could be home fordinner.
Pete closed his fingers around my wrist. He didn’t speak, but his thumb rubbed soothing circles into my pulse point.I’mhere.
Of course he was. Even when he seemed so far away from me, Pete was my lifeline, and his touch soothed the chaotic disquiet in my brain until he shook me gently sometimelater.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get outofhere.”
* * *
Pete
