Merc crossed his arms. “Fucking rude of you, mate. Mind your own business.”
“You are my business. Open your heart, or pack it away. You can’t walk this no man’s land for long.”
Music started from a source Merc couldn’t identify. Probably coming through the open doors to the living room. The Edison lights strung across the courtyard started to come on as the evening darkened.
Bastion took Selena’s hand and led her into a slow dance, complete with spins here and there. Liege led Summer out, drawing her into his arms. Ash’s eyes and energy were beautifully soft as Guerre asked Sam’s daughter to dance.
Jesus Christ. This was murder. Merc’s entire body screamed to have Ash dance with him.
But he couldn’t.
He’d given her up, along with every hope for ever feeling joy again.
Acier gave him a dark look, then asked Ash if she’d like to dance.
She sent Merc a quick look, then shook her head. “Actually”—she made an apologetic face—“I need to use the restroom.”
Acier reminded her where it was.
She stepped away without looking back. Acier stood next to Merc, sharing the brutal silence he’d wrapped around himself.
You are the biggest fucktard I know, Acier said to Merc.
Merc didn’t respond at first. Acier’s insult was about right. He looked over to where Ash had entered the fort in the living room. I can’t change what is.
But you can change what will be.
Not at the cost of her free will.
Acier sent him a dark look and shook his head, then went over to the table to grab an appetizer.
Merc followed Ash through the house. He didn’t mean to, but he was unable to fight the urge. She had a head start on him, but he only had to follow the sweet scent of her to know where she was. He found her leaning against the wall in the utility alcove, where the elevator, laundry, and restroom were.
She looked up slowly. He could almost believe she was the Ash of old, the one who still knew him. Her eyes and her whole vibe were heavy with sexual hunger. She didn’t move as he approached. She did nothing to avoid what they both knew was coming.
He put his hands on the wall behind her in a last-ditch effort to keep himself from touching her. The heat of her body warmed his cold soul. He leaned in, his eyes holding hers, his lips parted as he moved closer and closer. He lowered his gaze to her lips. She ran her hands up his chest and around his neck. When his mouth took hers, it was as if a wildfire lit up, burning them both so that neither knew where one began or ended.
Her arms tightened around him as she tilted her head, sealing their lips together perfectly, opening her mouth to his tongue. He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. He carried her into the laundry room and set her on the washer, closing the door behind them. He was tall, so the machine’s height gave him the right access to her body. He adjusted his jeans, freeing himself. She smiled and reached forward to slip her hands along his hard length.
After a moment, he pushed her back, forcing her to support herself on her elbows as he reached under her skirt and caught her panties. He gave her a smoldering look as he slid them down her thighs, pretending to himself that he was giving her the opportunity to change her mind. Questions surfaced in her mind about safe sex. He put them to rest quickly. Not only was she on birth control, he was able to keep his swimmers from impregnating her. And he couldn’t contract an STD, and couldn’t spread them either.
Déjà vu. They’d been in this exact spot before.
He pushed her hem up, exposing her sex. She licked her lips. He smiled, then bent down to lick her delicious folds. She was wet and sweet. He held her legs spread open, giving himself all the access he wanted to play her with his tongue.
Her body reacted beautifully to every stroke, but he became aware that she wasn’t in the most comfortable position. He grabbed a stack of clean towels and, lifting her, shoved them behind her.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” he replied, his mouth against her nether lips. He lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders, then slipped a finger inside her wet channel, then another. And as he sucked and licked her clit, he gave her one orgasm after another. Her heels were digging into his back as she tried to clench her knees. When he sensed she was coming down from her initial sexual hunger, he pulled her hips closer to the edge of the washing machine. Straightening between her legs, he pushed into her. She was tight but slick. He held her thighs as he pumped. Her hands were spread wide over the enamel surface of the machine, trying for a grip she couldn’t get. He owned their entire joining. When he felt his own release near, he thumbed her clit again, holding still, waiting for the waves of her passion to break free.
So close. So very close… He gripped her hips and pulled her against his hips, pumping fast, feeding her hunger as he answered his.
They came together in a crescendo like he’d never felt before and doubted he ever would again. As it ended, he reluctantly withdrew from her. She was sitting up, leaning her weight on her wrists as she stared at him. He touched his fingers to her cheeks.
She shook her head. “It’s like I know you. Like I’ve always known you.” Tears slipped down her cheeks—emotional spillover from their explosive joining.
He was going to have to steal this memory too. He caught the back of her head and pulled her forward, kissing her lips, tasting her tears. I love you. Never forget that, even as you forget everything else about us. Always know that you are loved.
With that, he put himself back together, then helped her off the washer and fetched her panties. He compelled her to go into the powder room next to the laundry room. He couldn’t steal her memories while he looked into her beautiful blue eyes.
Concentrating, he did the deed, taking this last moment from her.
He was invisible to her when she came out of the bathroom. She seemed both flushed and pale, shaken to her core. She straightened her dress and finger-combed her hair, then squared her shoulders and returned to the group.
Merc did not go back. He obviously couldn’t be in close proximity to Ash without completely losing control—not the experience she’d picked at all. Merc glared at Bastion as he made his way through the kitchen.
Bastion stared back. When Merc had passed, Bastion grinned as he said, “You have heel marks on your shirt.”
Merc hissed a breath, then leaned against the open kitchen door, watching Ash in the courtyard. “I’m going to die.”
“No you aren’t. “
“People die of broken hearts.”
“Lautaro didn’t. You didn’t, after Tina. Mutants don’t die of broken hearts.”
Merc stared at Ash a moment longer. “She won’t remember tonight or anything from before. Don’t make a big deal about me missing dinner. Remind the Ratcliffs that Ash needs her blood drawn.”
Bastion waved him off. “Go ahead. Run away. Return to your miserable-ass norm. It is fine. We will all carry on without you.”
Merc did just that. He went up to his room and paced angrily across it.
This was going to be the nature of his existence for the rest of Ashlyn’s life. He’d better get the fuck used to it.
35
Ash set her purse in the back seat of her car. Monday seemed to have come too fast. She still felt a strange, lingering mood from her night out with the girls at Summer’s fort. She loved Summer’s new friends. And Ash loved how happy her friend was.