Page 11 of Ash

“I did meet Eli a couple of weeks ago while on a call,” I conceded.

“Eli?” she echoed, tilting her head to the side. “That’s actually quite a lovely name.”

“It’s short for Elias.”

She gave a little shudder. “Nicknames are so passé.”

If she knew what everyone else called him, she would be horrified, so I kept his road name—and his connection to a motorcycle club—to myself. “Well, his full name is quite a mouthful. Elias Prescott III.”

Her eyes widened, and her gasp of delight was genuine this time. “Elias Prescott III…the senator’s son who was in the news a couple of weeks ago because he’d disappeared from his social circle and popped back up again? And then promptly got shot by that awful woman before dropping out of sight again?”

“The one and only.” I rolled my eyes. “With a name like that, who else could it be?”

“Who knew your job would actually land such a fantastic opportunity right in your lap?” She closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around me for the first hug she’d given me in years. “My precious girl, I never should’ve doubted you. Well done.”

If my mother knew me at all, she’d never think that I went out with Eli because of his family connections. But I had given up on her understanding how different we were long ago.

“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered before stepping out of her embrace to head upstairs to my room. She’d normally have more questions about my day—which really were just how she made little digs at what I’d chosen to do with my life—but the news of me dating a senator’s son had thrown her off track.

As I padded into my bedroom and shut the door behind me, I couldn’t help but wish that I had a different kind of relationship with my mother. One where I could tell her all about my first real date ever and have her gush over something besides Eli‘s parents. Unfortunately, that was never going to happen because we were too different.

She was the debutante who happily went along with my grandparents’ plan to marry her off to my father while I balked over the slightest suggestion of her setting me up with one of her friend’s sons.

With the exception of my own “coming out party” when I turned sixteen, I had also gotten out of attending any of the debutante balls by threatening to embarrass her in front of all of her hoity-toity friends. That was around the same time I signed up for the EMT track at my high school, so I told her I would wear blood-soaked scrubs to every event. Even if I had to fake the stains to make it happen.

Luckily, my father thought those parties were all nonsense, so he took my side, much to my mother’s chagrin. Otherwise, he would have put his foot down, and I wouldn’t have gotten out of them since his word ruled our house. Same with my grandfather and probably all of my great and great-greats, too.

I’d pushed against my father’s rules as far back as I could remember. One of my mother’s favorite stories to tell from my childhood was when I was two and planted my little hands onmy hips while chanting “no” at him when he wanted me to eat broccoli with dinner.

She’d found it adorable, him not so much. What neither of them had bargained for was that my stubbornness would grow during my teenage years. Which was why I was so surprised by my reaction to the sexy threats Eli had sent me when I stopped taking his calls after our missed date.

I should’ve found them irritating. Or even infuriating. Instead, they sparked filthy fantasies about Eli every time I went to sleep.

After going on an actual date with him, I had a feeling they’d be more intense tonight. Especially after that kiss.

My lips curved into a dreamy smile as I headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I finished up, I climbed on the mattress and clicked on my phone’s screen to pull up the message thread with Eli and scrolled to when I first started to ignore his calls.

Eli

Pick up, baby girl. I get that you’re pissed I had to cancel our date, but that doesn’t mean we’re over.

I had wanted to fire back with a text about how that was exactly what him backing out on our first date at the last minute meant, but I held off. It only got harder to stop myself from there.

The most recent messages had been the most difficult to ignore.

Eli

If you won’t answer my calls, at least reply to one of my texts.

Eli

I’m not going to give up, baby girl. So you might as well talk to me before you’ve racked up so many spankings that you’re perfect little ass will wear my handprint for days.

The thought of a guy giving me a spanking should’ve turned me all the way off…to the point where I blocked his number. But Eli’s sexy threats only made me want to find out what his palm felt like against my butt.

As I stared down at the screen, contemplating how to reply without mentioning that particular topic when those messages were right there, three little dots appeared on the thread.

“Fiddlesticks,” I breathed, hoping he hadn’t seen the same thing when I accidentally hit the spacebar before scrolling up. That had been minutes ago, which meant he’d easily be able to guess how long I was obsessing over his darn threats.

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