Kiera and Summer hooked their arms through hers and led her forward. They went into the fort, then through the kitchen and dining room to the long living room, where a group of people were already gathered.
Summer put her arm around Ash and introduced her. Besides Sam and Bastion, there was Acier, Guerre, and the Doctors Ratcliff. The group parted, opening a column of space that revealed him. Her secret lover. The saint of Valle de Lágrimas. The guy with the cliffside death wish.
Him.
Ash froze. Merc’s khaki eyes bored into hers. She dropped her purse and backpack, then took a few steps back. Her sweater fell from her limp arm. She backed away, faster, then turned and hurried past the dining room. She wasn’t sure where she was headed, only that she had to get away. His energy and hers in close proximity was explosive. She had questions—so many of them. Her relief that he was real, that he was well, that he was still alive swirled in her mind, pushing aside all other thoughts.
In the kitchen, she almost took a turn to the right, heading for the exit. She needed to run, just go, get out into the open air.
Go left.
The command came from her own mind. In his voice.
How could she know it was his voice when she’d never heard him speak? She didn’t pause to question it. She turned left and went into a service corridor. There was a bathroom, stairs, an elevator, a laundry room.
Left again.
She followed his command, entering a dark laundry room. He was right behind her. Lights came on. The door shut. They faced each other. Energy arced between them like in a plasma dome. Her breathing was ragged—she couldn’t pull enough air to satisfy her lungs as he closed the distance between them. The moment his hands touched her waist, her ragged breathing eased out in a deep sigh.
His body was exactly as it had been in all her dreams and visions. Solid, bulky. She put her palms on his arms, feeling the tautness of his biceps. His head bent toward hers. She lifted up on tiptoes, meeting him halfway. A shiver ripped through her body as their lips touched. He turned his head and deepened the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his tongue claimed hers. His hand was at the back of her head, holding her so he could take what he wanted.
Ash sucked air in through her flared nostrils, capturing his scent, losing herself in the deliciousness of him, a sweet musk mixed with another scent. Rain. No—not rain. This was the scent just before rain, the faint, earthy smell of an impending thunderstorm.
Petrichor.
God, she would never forget that scent or him or the feel of his hands on her body.
He lifted her up to sit on the washer without breaking his kiss. She was vaguely aware of him fumbling with his jeans, and then his big hands slid up her thighs, under her skirt. He pulled aside her thong and entered her. The sensation was shocking and delicious. All the times she let her mind go down this road, she’d never quite been able to imagine penetration. She was wet—she had been since first seeing him. He slipped in and out easily. He pulled her hips closer, sealing their bodies together as he pumped into her.
She locked her legs around his waist and held on with her arms wrapped around his neck. She freed a hand to touch his cheek, feeling his rough beard. He must be wearing contacts, for the room’s dim light caught in his eyes, making them seem to glow. His mouth was everywhere—on her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her mouth again. She couldn’t anticipate what he was going to do next and didn’t care to try. Everything he did felt amazing.
She felt a pressure on her clit, soft and warm, bringing her body higher and tighter. The touch wasn’t from his hands—they were on her hips. He must have some secret movement, a rotation of his hips that…
Rational thought abandoned her before she could complete that sentence. She started to cry out at her peak, but his mouth took hers, swallowing the sound. He stepped away from the washer and walked with her to a stretch of bare wall.
She came again as they walked, then again when he leaned her against the wall and slammed into her. Or maybe it was just one long climax that he somehow knew how to keep rolling.
Whatever, he held her thighs as he pulled out and pounded in. When her next orgasm hit and her body clamped down on his, they came together.
The echoes of their passion were slow to leave their bodies. Ash was spent. She slowly became aware of where she was. Merc carried her back to the washing machine, then eased free. Too late, she realized they’d used no protection. She was on birth control, so she wasn’t worried about getting pregnant, but they’d been intimate before even speaking to each other. It was so upside down.
Merc braced his fists on either side of her hips, leaning his forehead against hers. “I don’t have any problems there. And nor do you.”
How had he known she was worried about STDs?
“You cooled off fast, so I figured that was why,” he said.
It was just like her dreams of him. Somehow he knew what to answer, like he pulled the worry from her mind.
Ash moved her hands up his arms to rest them on his shoulders. “You’re real.”
“So are you.”
“I’ve been dreaming about you.”
She stroked his face as she studied his eyes, and because she was watching so closely, she saw the fire in them cool, even as his face hardened. He straightened and pulled himself together. His hands fell to his sides. He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Ashlyn stared after him, wondering why he’d left…and where they went from there.
She straightened her clothes and finger-combed her hair. Without her purse, she couldn’t check her makeup or reapply lipstick. And damn, everyone at the party would know what they’d just done.
It was sexy and thrilling, yet she felt entirely too exposed. She needed a bit of time to compose herself before going on with the rest of the party.
When she left the laundry room, Merc was right there, leaning against the wall, waiting for her. His arms were folded in front of him. His legs were braced slightly apart.
She faced him. That was by far the most spontaneous round of sex she’d ever had. It also was a tiny nibble of a banquet she wanted to devour.
“What happens now?” she asked.
He stared into her eyes. Waves of emotion rolled off him, making him unreadable. “Nothing.”
Nothing? “Right. Got it.” She moved away from him a step, then another, then pivoted and left the alcove. She made it out of the kitchen and into the courtyard before she remembered she had no way to leave without Kiera, who’d brought them.
“Where are you going?” Merc asked, following her.
“Home.”
“You’re upset. I’ll drive you.”
“No. God, I need a shower.”
“You can shower here.”
“I don’t have a change of clothes here.”
“You can borrow something.”
Ash couldn’t believe he’d said that. “You don’t want me to stay, but you don’t want me to go.”
Merc shoved his fingers into his jeans pocket and rocked back on his heels. “It’s not even that. I don’t want you.”
Ash’s chest locked up on her to the point where no air got in or out of her lungs. How could this man be a saint when he was so cruel?
“Great. Glad we’re clear on that.” She nodded. “And it goes both ways.” Perfect. Could she be more middle school than that? She reached for her phone, then remembered it was in her purse, which was in the living room.