He smirks. “You’re just high cus’ it’s only been ten minutes. Time can sometimes feel longer when you’ve been smoking.” Ashton digs into the plastic bag then hands me a cold water bottle.
“Thanks,” I say and shuffle in my spot to make myself more comfortable.
The water goes down cold, and I realize now that my mouth has gone dry. It's most likely due to the weed, but then maybe it’s the crying I did while he was away. Ashton continues to feel around in the bag, pulling out a small pastry box. Tucking his water bottle under his arm, he opens the flap and presents me with an assortment of miniature baked goods.
I smile like a kid in a candy store, sucking in a breath as I reach for the frosted lemon one. “There is a god,” I exaggerate while tilting my head to the sky and shoving the entire danish into my mouth.
“Yeah, and his name is Baby.”
I dart my gaze back to his, shaking my head at the arrogance radiating from him. “You are such an asshole.” I laugh.
He settles between my legs and bites into one of the desserts. “Thank you.”
I huff, my smile never faltering. Ashton picks up another treat and holds it out to me. When I try to take it from him, he pulls back, swatting at my hands.
“Open,” he directs with a tilt of his head.
I stare at him for a moment, unable to move or even process what he’s saying to me. It also doesn’t help that I am still feeling the effects of the weed. Every sense is already heightened, and every nerve is on fire. The last thing I need is to be fed by him.
And as I continue to look at him blankly, his face twists with concern and confusion. Ashton’s brows are pulled tight, and he drops the snack back into the box, setting it down beside me. But he doesn’t move from in between my legs. I see the change in his demeanor and attempt to glance away.
He doesn’t allow me to, grabbing me by the chin and forcing me to look at him. Ashton searches my face, neither of us saying anything for a moment. I can’t tell you how long we stay like this, gazing at each other. My expression is weak and probably full of fear, while his matches that of a protective lover.
“You were crying.”
It’s not a question; the evidence is written all over my face. I know because my skin is tight in the places where my tears have dried.
I drop my chin to my chest, anything to break eye contact. “I’m fine.” I tuck my curly hair behind my ear. “Where are the pastries from?” I ask in a feasible attempt to change the subject.
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice is stern and somewhat dominating.
“Really, Ashton, I’m okay.”
He doesn’t believe me if the frown lines on his forehead are any indication. I’m grateful that he doesn’t push the subject because explaining why I broke down after he was away isn’t something I want to do. Especially when I don’t know the reason myself. The only thing I am sure of is that everything is all too much—my life and being here with him.
Ashton presses his lips together, gives me a nod, and wipes the crumbs from his hands. Then he steps back, pulling me off the reef by my wrists.
“Come on.”
I allow him to guide me, frowning when he drags me towards the sliver of the shore between the wall and another tower of rocks.
“What are you doing?” I quiz, my brows knitted together when he takes off his shirt.
He moves on to his jeans, unbothered by the startled grimace plastered to my face. “We’re going swimming,” he deadpans.
“No, we aren’t.”
Ashton shoves the material down around his ankles, and he steps out of them and his shoes at once. Standing in front of me in nothing but his boxer briefs, ink covering his skin, and determination laced within his features, he juts his chin, silently encouraging me to undress.
But all I can do is take him in—every ounce—from his head, down his chiseled chest, and the very noticeable bulge between his legs. I zero in on one of the most prominent designs, realizing that my thoughts were correct. His moniker, Baby, is inked in large gothic lettering, and across his right hip is his last name, Ciccone.
Other tattoos fill the canvas that is his chest, arms, and shoulders, but I can’t even begin to tell you what they are because I’m distracted by the inadvertent flex of his muscles. I fight the urge to lick my lips because I know that if I do, he’d never let me live it down.
Everyone has a non-sexual kink, that thing that turns them on like nobody's business—this is mine. Pure, adulterated lust builds in my core, and I have to blink to control myself. Ashton clears his throat, pulling my attention back to his face.
“Why are you so random?” I say after a breath.
He takes a tiny step forward. “Why were you crying?”
I sigh, my shoulder slouching heavily. “I told you-”
“And you’re lying. Something happened between the moment I left and came back. You’ve spent most of the night talking around or avoiding whatever it was that had you worked up in the first place. I don’t do unanswered questions. So you’ve got two choices, tell me the truth, or strip out of that dress and hit the water.”
“How about I don’t do either?”
Ashton closes the gap between us, towering over me, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him. His naked chest is flush against me, and even though I am still fully clothed, his warmth consumes me.
“We made a deal, Ivy. Anything I say for the rest of the night, so take your pick.”
I inhale through my nose, letting his demands roll around in my head. I’ve had enough of taking orders, especially from someone sixteen years my junior. I should leave. I’ve already crossed the line with him, and there is no need to continue this charade. We’re not fooling anyone, and it certainly doesn’t erase my circumstances.
Yet, I don’t move. I don’t tell him to screw his plan or where he can shove it. I don’t back down because the truth is, I want to defy it all and run tail blazing across the bridge of the forbidden. Just once, I need to do the wrong thing, feel something other than pain and misery. For once, I want to hurt Jerry, even if I’ll never be strong enough to rub it in his face.
Ashton cups my cheek, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Tonight, you’re with me.” He nods, silently asking me if I understand that. “And tomorrow, you can go back to doing everything right.”
I mimic his movement, using my eyes to let him know I’ll go along with it.
“No more tears. Just fun.”
“Okay,” I mutter, giving him my back while holding my hair to one side.
He gets the message and slowly reaches for my zipper, dragging it painfully slow until he hits the curve of my ass. Ashton hooks his fingers around the fabric, peeling the black dress from my body. A chill runs the length of my spine as I face him again in a strapless bra and matching bikini panties.
It’s weird how well he handles me, considering we met only a few hours ago. He’s an asshole, arrogant, and crass, but he’s treated me a lot better than my husband of seven years. Even with his snarky comments, he’s proven he cares, and for some wild and crazy reason, I like that.
His eyes are fixed on me, low and hooded in a way that tells me he’s admiring me. Between the flash of arousal weaved into his expression, the night air on my bare skin, and the buzz from the joint we smoked, my body heats up. With a mind of its own, it reacts. Nipples tight and sensitive behind the satin padding of my bra. Thighs clenching to still the need pooling at my center.