His hands are on her waist, still holding her up, but his thumb sweeps a taunting circle just under her top. Her world narrows to that point of contact.
‘Ash,’ she murmurs a plea against his mouth.
His grip tightens still further – hard enough to bruise. But the sound of his name on her lips seems to remind him of something. He eases back, just a little, so he can look at her. His eyes are almost black.
He swallows. ‘Maybe we should … take a beat.’
She nods, although taking a beat is not what she wants to do right now. Not what he wants to do, either, from what she can feel pressing against her. He leans in, kisses her again, slower this time. Kisses her jaw, her throat. She can feel the throbbing between her thighs, and her legs tighten their hold on him. Her skin is too hot, too needy. She shudders as he bites, gently, where his mouth travels.
‘You taste like I dreamt you would,’ he murmurs against her skin.
Everything inside her twists and tightens. ‘Dreaming about me, are you?’ The wry tone is somewhat ruined by the fact that she gasps when he kisses the spot between her collarbone and neck.
‘Oh, you have no idea.’ His voice is low, strumming a too-tight string in her core. He stops what he’s doing, his gaze finding hers again.
‘We should …’ She gestures in the vague direction of the cottage. Because he’s right – they probably do need to think this through.
‘Yeah.’ His gaze drops to her mouth, returns to her eyes. ‘Yeah, okay.’
He lets go of her, allowing her to get her feet on the ground again. His own feet are still bare, shoes long since forgotten about. Her clothes are almost as wet as his now.
They don’t touch as they make their way back to the cottage. She’s not sure if he doesn’t reach for her for the same reason she’s walking a careful distance away from him. Because she’s not certain she’ll be able to stop this time if she touches him again.
When they get back, they take it in turns to shower, and she says she’ll make dinner. She needs something to do to distract herself, and they are too far away from anything to contemplate eating out. She chops asparagus and starts to fry onions and garlic, preparing to make a light pasta dish.
It is cooler now, a slight breeze drifting through the open back door. She’s half watching the sunset from the window, the sky changing from blue to orange and reds, when she hears footsteps coming into the kitchen. The back of her neck prickles in anticipation, even before she turns to see Ash in the doorway. His hair is damp and he’s clean-shaven. He’s barefoot, dressed in jeans and a fresh top. The corner of his mouth crooks up when their gazes meet.
‘Hey.’ Her pulse skitters at the sound of his voice.
Get a bloody grip, Lissa.She focuses on the pan, figuring that’s safer.
‘So I got you a birthday present,’ he says.
She frowns, looking around again as he moves towards her. ‘You do know my birthday was months ago, right?’
Though of course he knows.Happy birthday, Lissa.
‘I do,’ he confirms. ‘But you were being all weird then. So I’ve been saving it.’
‘Until I’m good?’ The words are out before she can sense-check them, and she inwardly cringes at how it sounds. Like she might be trying to flirt.Isshe trying to flirt? Is she really this bad at it?
But he only smirks, radiating confidence. ‘Something like that.’
He holds up a small box, which she hadn’t noticed before now – too distracted by, well, him. She turns down the hob, then takes the box with slightly hesitant fingers. She was a total bitch to him, cutting him off like she did. And still he bought her a present. Still he thought of her.
She opens it, feeling his gaze on her face, watching. She swallows in the moment before she sees what it is, worried about showing the wrong kind of reaction. But then all she can do is stare. At the earrings inside the box. Not her usual style, which is studs, with the occasional hoop if she’s feeling out there, but huge dangling earrings, gold, with big blue spheres giving way to red at the bottom. They are nothing like anything she would buy for herself. And for that very reason, they are totally perfect.
‘Thank you,’ she murmurs.
‘They’re how I see you.’ He shrugs. ‘Bright and full of colour.’
And oh God, how is she supposed to stop herself when he says things like that? She lifts on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. She inhales the scent of him. Earthen, grounded, despite his somewhat erratic behaviour at times. As she eases away, he takes hold of her arms, gently holding her in place.
‘I’m sorry about earlier.’
She cocks her head. ‘Which part?’
His lips curve in a smile that makes her toes curl. ‘Which do you think?’ His voice has dropped to that low tone, the one that makes her insides shiver.
