And as Ashton mentally traces my curves from where he stands, he licks his lips while running his palm down his chest and over his growing bulge. Not out of shame, though. No, because he doesn’t get embarrassed. I know that because even though he’s turned on by me right now, he never drops his gaze. He’s touching himself to wordlessly point out the obvious.
It’s hot the way he’s watching me, but not all lust-filled either. It makes me feel seen and not for the fact that I’m down to my underwear. He’s looking at me, not just my body. But aside from his muscles flexing periodically, Ashton doesn’t move except to breathe. Sucking in a breath of my own, I roll my shoulders back, accepting what little confidence I have at this moment.
When he rakes his sights from my face down to my breasts, my chest heaves, then suddenly the sultry look he once wore is replaced with a sore frown. I flinch when he attempts to touch my rib cage, my eyes shut when I realize he notices the bruising.
I’ve undressed in front of him to avoid answering his questions, to keep from acknowledging with a stranger what I've been through. Letting him touch the wounds Jerry’s left behind defeats the point of all of this. So, instead, I politely block his hand and walk around him.
From the corner of my eye, I see him turning and observing me while simultaneously following me into the ocean. A low hiss slips past my lips when the cold water meets me, but the chill subsides almost immediately. Once I’m out far enough for the tide to reach my hips, I spin in his direction as I run my outstretched hand through the sea.
With the only light coming from the lamp post, I can barely see all of his features. It’s better that way, and it hides the tears that are threatening to pour down my face right now. I exhale in frustration, not liking that I’m breaking down so much tonight. Then suddenly, I remember why I haven’t smoked since college. This—the emotions—has always been a side effect for me. Yes, it helps me relax and escape for a bit, but that leads to a clearer mind, and then the wandering begins.
Ergo—tears.
Ashton moves closer, and I can now see that his gaze is still trained on me despite the low lighting. But before he has a chance to invade my space, I drop under the water. For as long as I can, I hold my breath, rubbing my hands over my face when I come up for air.
Expecting to find him waiting for me, I’m shocked that he isn’t. I immediately search the shore. He isn’t there, so I observe for any indication he’s still with me, a ripple in the water, a splash—anything. It comes a second later. Something grabs at my thighs, scaring the life out of me. I scream, my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in.
“Ah,” he groans as he swims to the surface, checking his lip to see if it’s busted. “Fuck,” he mutters.
I wince sympathetically and rush toward him. “Sorry,” I say in a near whine. “You scared me.”
Ashton leans out of my reach, frowning for a beat. “What the hell did you think I was?” He wears a twisted expression with his brows drawn together.
If he was Jerry and this was any other moment, fear would rip through me. But I’m not afraid, and I can’t quite figure out why. Is it because he’s not Jerry? Or because Ashton’s done nothing but take care of me all night?
We’ve just met, yet, I know I’m safe with him. Ashton wouldn’t hurt me. But then again, maybe it’s the weed that has me so relaxed in his presence. Laughter takes over, and no matter how hard I try to hold it back, it comes pouring out of me. He drops his arms and gives me a pointed glare while still working to avoid my touch.
“And you think it’s funny?”
The moment continues, my stomach twisting into knots because I can’t get it to stop. “I—I don't mean to laugh.” I gasp in a breath and huddle over with my arms over my stomach. “But your face. I got you good, didn’t I?”
“Ya think,” he snips, his snarl still in place.
At this point, it’s uncontrollable, my giggles now inaudible. It takes me a second to somewhat pull it together, and when I do, I move toward him again, but he doesn’t back away this time. The evil eye he’s giving me hasn’t wavered, though.
“Let me look.” I cup his face, the water from my hands rolling down his chin. “You’re okay, no blood, no bumps, no bruises,” I add while rubbing the pad of my thumb over his mouth. “You’ll live.”
My chest buckles as I continue to keep cackling at bay. Ashton shakes his head, a smile threatening to peek through.
“No more weed for you for the rest of the night,” he admonishes.
“Deal,” I agree, with my hands up in surrender. “I have no arguments there. But, I needed that laugh.”
“Not at my expense,” he exclaims.
I smile.
“You still think it’s funny, don’t you?” Ashton yanks me into his arms.
“Okay, okay.” I try to get away but him tickling me makes it hard to do.
“Ain’t too funny now, is it?”
I swat at his hands, failing with every attempt. “No.” I chuckle. “I’m sorry!” I singsong.
Finally, he stops torturing me but doesn’t release his hold on me. As my adrenaline levels and my breathing returns to normal, I make eye contact with him. He surveys my face, his eyes darting between mine, down to my lips and back.
I swallow and shiver from the sudden chill down my spine. Our chest heave in tandem, the beat of his heart seeming to match mine.
Thump, thump.
The rhythm feels so loud it drums almost poetically in my ear. Ashton slips his hand down my back, resting his palm where my spine and ass connects. The moment goes on forever with us staring at each other. Then he runs his touch up and down my flesh, his fingers disappearing under my bra repeatedly.
His grasp is rough, the calluses on his hand scraping across my skin. It’s shocking at first, the coarseness being something I’m not used to. Hmph, I think to myself—another non-sexual thing that arouses me. Or maybe it’s just him, the waves rocking us back and forth, or the weed.
I lift my hand to his chest, hesitating to feel him finally—the lines of his tattoos pebble under the pads of my fingers. Ashton glances down, watching as I trace the design. Then he places a hand over mine but keeps the other at the top of my ass.
Licking my lips, I scan his face, leaning in a bit only to stop to contemplate what I want. He’s impatient and brings his mouth to mine but doesn’t kiss me. No, he’s waiting for me to do it.
I graze against him, giving him a subtle peck only to pause and wrap my arms around his neck. He releases a husky breath when I dig my nails into his flesh then gives me an open-mouth kiss.
My eyes shut on their own accord as he deepens our embrace. He slips his tongue into my mouth, and I savor the taste of him. Because I know that come morning, we’ll need to forget all about this night. I’m grateful for the escape, but this is all it is, a dream I’ll wake up from. And my life will resume as normal. Or at least my normal.
Tears prick the back of my eyes, one escaping and trailing down my cheek. Thankfully due to the droplets of ocean water that splashes on us, Ashton doesn’t notice. But I bury myself in him anyway, my face twisting from the rush of emotions.
Suddenly I’m in his arms, his palms splayed beneath my ass for support. He groans into my mouth, and I release a low moan at the feel of him hardening between us. I can’t control the way my body responds to him, but he doesn’t mind it at all when I grind against him.