Page 158 of Stay Scared

I kiss him. Ash’s mouth opens under mine immediately. There is no careful first touch. His hand locks around my waist and drags me against him hard enough that the table edge catches my thigh. I bite his lower lip. His grip becomes brutal for half a second, then stops increasing. The difference matters more because I can feel how much farther he wants to go. I pull back. Ash follows.

I catch his shirt. “Stay.”

He freezes exactly where I leave him, every muscle drawn tight with the urge to ignore me. I turn and walk toward the stage. Three steps pass. A shoe scrapes behind me. I look back. Ash is still exactly where I left him, hands clenched at his sides.

“Difficult?” I ask.

“Painfully difficult.”

I sit on the edge of the stage. The old mask rests beside my thigh. Ash looks at me from across the room.

“Come here.”

He crosses the space slowly. The control in his walk is more threatening than haste.

“Closer.”

Ash stops between my knees. I take his wrist and pull one hand behind his back. His eyes flare. I take the other, and he lets me place it beside the first. Nothing submissive crosses his face. His shoulders remain squared, and his body leans into my space. If he wanted out, one pull would break my hold. That is why it works. I hook one leg around his hip and pull him toward me. His breathing breaks.

“Keep them there.”

His hands remain behind him. I kiss him. Ash meets me with his mouth only. No hands or leverage. His body still crowds mine, heat and tension pressing between us while his fingers curl behind his back. I bite his lip again. Ash exhales through his nose.

“You hate this.”

“I hate how much I’m letting you do.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

I kiss his jaw, then the skin beneath the medical tape. Ash’s head tips enough to give me access. His hands remain behind him.

I move my mouth toward his ear. “What happens if I let them go?”

Ash’s breath touches my cheek. “You already know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

His eyes move over my face. “I put you on the table.”

Heat flashes through me.

“What else?”

His shoulders shift. “I stop pretending I don’t want to see how far you’ll let me push.”

That is better than the old answer. No careful mention of the open door. No promise dressed up as seduction. Just Ash.

I pull him closer by the front of his shirt. “And if I stop you?”

His stare sharpens. “You stop me.”

Nothing else follows. I kiss him before the exchange turns into another negotiation. His mouth turns hungry beneath mine. One shoulder jerks when I shift against him. His restraint is fraying, and I want it.

“Hands.”

Ash closes both around my waist the instant I free him, hard enough that his thumbs press into my sides. He drags me forward until my body fits against his. A rough sound leaves me. His eyes catch it. Ash’s grip tightens again. The man who spent months designing anticipation finally has something no schedule can contain. I slide off the stage. Ash’s hands follow me down. I put the old mask against his chest. His fingers close around it.