Water rains down over us, washing away the evidence of tonight and letting it swirl down the drain, I only hope it could take Ashton’s anger at the world with it because even riding the high I am right now, I know that sometime soon I’m going to come crashing back to reality.
He unhooks my legs from his waist and lowers my legs to the floor before he begins kissing down my body until he’s on his knees before me.
“Does it hurt?” he asks so quietly I almost miss it over the torrent of water.
“Just a bit tender,” I lie. Reality is that it’s more than a little tender.
Lifting one leg from the floor, he throws it over his shoulder before leaning forward and licking gently up the length of me. I’m still so sensitive from our time together that it’s almost too much to bear.
My fingers tangle in his wet locks as he continues his gentle assault on me.
He doesn’t let up until I’m coming against his face.
I’m still fighting to catch my breath when he stands before me, reaching out for my cheek.
“Hey,” I say shyly. I’m not embarrassed, far too much has happened between us for that to be the case now, but staring at him right now, I feel like I’m finally meeting the real him. The Ashton who’s put all his hate and anger to one side, the boy who—even if only for a few moments—has lowered his walls and allowed me to see the person hiding behind.
“Hey.” A smile curls at his lips and I’m powerless but to step into him and reach up to feel them against mine once more.
Gentler than I thought he was capable of, he washes every inch of me before wrapping me in a towel and leading me back to his bedroom. He encourages me onto the bed and after fixing the twisted sheets he crawls in with me, pressing his front to my back and wrapping his arm around my waist, locking me in place.
“Ash?” I whisper.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?” I know I should probably leave it and let him deal in his own way, but while he’s been so open with me, I can’t help digging a little more.
He thrusts his hips against my bare ass. “I’ve been worse, little one.” He nuzzles my neck before gently biting down on my skin.
“T-that’s not what I meant.”
“I know. But that’s all you’re getting.”
“Okay. But... if you want to talk, you know I’m here, right?”
“Go to sleep, Ruby. I’m trying to do the right thing here and let your body rest.”
“O-okay,” I say, fighting a smile that he’s just admitted doing something nice for me, despite the fact my core clenches at his words and desire once again fills my veins. “I just needed you to know.”
“Thank you,” he whispers so quietly, I wonder if I was even meant to hear it.
I have no idea what time it is, all I know is it’s dark outside and after the vodka and the exercise, I’m exhausted. Only minutes after we stop talking, I close my eyes and lose myself in the feel of him holding me so tightly.
20
Ruby
The second I wake up, I know something is wrong, and it’s not just because he’s not holding me any longer—like he was every time I woke up in the night—it’s more than that, I can sense it.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Today is the day we bury his mother. I still have so many questions about her, about what happened, about how he’s dealing with it. But he shuts down every attempt I’ve made to talk about it.
I want to be what he needs, but at the same time, I know that bottling it up isn’t going to help in the long run.
He blames himself. He hates himself. That’s about as much as I know, and it doesn’t really give me a lot to go on to try to help.
My head gently throbs at my temples reminding me of last night’s vodka and I sit up slowly so I don’t upset my stomach. I pull at the sheets to cover my still naked body but they don’t move. I soon discover why when I look up.
Ashton is sitting on the end of the bed with his head in his hands. His shoulders are slumped in defeat and my heart aches for him. I want to help, I want to take the pain away, but I can’t. I can’t do fuck-all but stand beside him while he experiences what I’m sure is about to be the worst day of his life.
If he knows I’m awake, then he shows no signs of it. Sliding forward, I push my legs off the bed and sit beside him before wrapping my arm around his shoulder and placing my other hand on his thigh.
He tenses at my touch but he doesn’t do anything else.
“Tell me what you need,” I say, pressing my lips to his bare shoulder, hoping that he’s going to let me in, let me support him.
He waits a few seconds, then sucks in a deep breath. I start to think he’s going to respond and a little hope seeps into me but instead of speaking, he jumps up from the bed with such force that his elbow flies backward and straight into my eye.
I want to cry out as my eyes water with the pain, but I don’t want him to feel any worse than he already does, so I swallow it down.
“Ash, what are you doing?” I ask when my vision clears, and I find him pulling on a pair of black sweats and a black zip-up hoodie.
“I can’t fucking do this,” he mutters before pocketing his cell and marching from the room.
“Wait,” I call, running after him, not stopping to bother covering up. No point now, he’s definitely seen everything I have to offer.
He stands in the doorway ready to leave the apartment but before he disappears, he looks back at me over his shoulder.
I gasp at the look on his face. His eyes are dark and haunted, his lips are pressed into a thin line. He looks... devastated. Broken. Totally and utterly lost.
“Ash, please,” I beg, surging forward in the hope I can stop him walking out and doing whatever he’s planning on doing.
But before I get anywhere near him, he swings the door closed behind him.
“Ashton,” I scream, but I can only imagine that he’s gone and knows I can’t chase him. “Fuck’s sake,” I bark, spinning on the spot, not knowing what to do.
I take myself to the bathroom, make use of the toilet and brush my teeth as I try to get my brain to function. I inspect my eye in the mirror, thankfully, there’s no sign of what just happened. I can only hope it stays that way.
Finding the hoodie he discarded when we got in last night, I pull it on and go in search of my purse, or more importantly, my cell.
I find it by the front door where I must have dropped it when he backed me up against the door.
Images of last night threaten to play out in my mind like a freaking movie, but I push them down. The tenderness between my legs is enough of a reminder right now.
Pulling my cell out, I call Mom.
“Good morning, sweetie. Are you ready?”
“Um...” I hesitate, looking around the apartment for a clock but coming up empty. Pulling my cell from my ear, I stare at the time and panic. “Not quite. Um... we might have a problem,” I admit with a wince.
“What’s wrong?” Mom’s voice immediately changes with my words.
“Err... Ashton just stormed out. He’s... um... he’s not dealing with this very well. I’m not sure what—”