Page 103 of Ashley & the A-Listers

She was a simple creature, okay? She saw the guy she was in love with shirtless and she went a little goo-goo, alright?

In the dim light she traced him head to knee, and brushed a hand over a ragged scar at his side, the one she’d noticed at the waterfall.

“Don’t like this,” she muttered. “What’s it from?”

Dylan’s hand covered hers, holding her palm to the shiny, healed skin. “I was doing my job,” he said. “The other guy didn’t like that so much.”

A frown tugged at her lips. “What happened?”

“Another time,” Dylan said. “It’s not great pillow talk.”

“Is he dead?” she asked. Or was he out there, where he could still hurt Dylan?

“Yeah. He is.”

Something in Ashley relaxed at the news. There was no danger to him, not here, not now, and hopefully not ever.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

His willingness to share any part of himself with her was so endearing, so relieving, that she sat up, seeking his lips again. He met her, and their lips parted and came together.

Dylan cupped her cheeks before his touch began to roam, taking stock of her shape, learning her over the barrier of her comfy shirt before she got impatient and broke the kiss to pull at the hem.

Dylan helped, and she lifted her arms so he could slide it over her head, revealing the simple sports bra she wore beneath.

Ashley stripped that off, too, before Dylan could ever ask.

At least they got to skip the awkward parts as teenagers, she supposed. There was no gawking or weird pause as they both internally panicked.

It was all instinct as she pulled him close with a hand at the back of his neck, seeking skin against skin.

She shivered as she found it, her beaded nipples brushing against his chest.

Warmth pooled low in her gut, demanding, and she was just about to sit up, to push Dylan to the mattress and crawl atop him to appease her selfishness, when he laid her back down.

Her head hit the pillows, and Dylan pressed his palms into the mattress on either side, laying a chaste kiss on her lips.

“I want to learn every inch of you. Am I going too fast?” he asked.

Ashley shook her head, her fingers twitching over his shoulders. “Not fast enough.”

Dylan smirked, and it was slightly devastating, that smugness on his face when it concernedher.

They were on the same page, reading from the same book of making up for lost time.

Dylan shifted lower, dragging his lips, peppering kisses across her shoulder, her collarbone, nipping at the thin skin before dipping south. The tease of his hot breath made her arch into him before he caved and took her nipple into his mouth.

Ashley sighed, combing a hand through his hair encouragingly as he mouthed at her, tongue flicking, lips pulling.

He slid a hand up her side to cup the other one, her nipple brushing against his palm.

She shivered at the contrast from the cold air to his skin as he pulled back to blow on the peak.

“Stop that,” she hissed, laughing.

“No,” he answered simply, before lowering his mouth again.

Ashley let her head drop back into the pillows and fought the sly smile at her lips, losing the fight in seconds.

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