Page 99 of Pieces of Ash
“How about we get some sleep?” he says.
My breath catches because I’ve never spent the night alone with a man. “Uh…okay.”
“Or I can go now?” he asks, his voice tentative.
I am shy about spending the night with him, but I know—with everything I am—that I don’t want him to leave. I want him to stay with me, and a peace overtakes me as I realize that nothing will happen between us if I don’t want it to.
Therein lies the problem.
I want things from him that I shouldn’t want, that I could regret, that might hurt me later, years from now, when he is part of my past and I wish we’d met under circumstances that could have allowed him to be a part of my future. But I’m not a fool. There is no man on earth who’d want the baggage I carry. I get that. I know it’s true.
He starts to get up, but I place my hand on his chest and push him back.
“No.”
Even though I am younger and far less experienced than he, his eyes look helpless in the moonlight as he gazes at me. “What do you want, Ashley?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me.”
“Take this off,” I whisper.
My hands bunch the fabric of his T-shirt, and I slide the cotton up his chest, over the ripples of his muscles, the heel of my hand brushing against the warm skin and wiry hairs that trail up the middle of his chest.
He stares hard at me before reaching behind his neck and taking the shirt off.
My eyes slide down. To his lips. To his throat. To his chest. I lean forward and press my lips against his skin, humming softly with pleasure at the contact. His hands land on my hips, and he lifts me onto his lap so that I’m straddling his waist. As I dust his chest with kisses, he threads his hands through my hair. Under my lips, his heart races, his pulse beating against a million sense receptors and sending the message to my brain that this man, this beating heart, are undermycontrol. At least for now.
It’s a heady sensation, to know the full force of my womanhood for the first time, the power I can wield over the human being lying beneath me. For just a second, Tig’s face flashes through my mind, and I wonder if this is why she entertained so many men. Because her life felt so chaotic, but for the few minutes a man was lying beneath her, she was omnipotent.
My thoughts scatter as another part of him throbs against another part of me. A different muscle against different lips. And suddenly I remember that no matter how powerful I feel, I am probably half Julian’s size. Whatever control I have, he is giving me. And by taking it, I’m trusting him not to turn the tables on me. That’s where decency and emotion enter this equation, I think. He is decent. And we are falling for each other.
I raise my face and drop my lips to his, kissing him madly as he reaches for the hem of my shirt. He fists it in his hands, his question clear, despite the blinding distraction of our passionate kiss. I drop my hands to his and help him slide my shirt up. Itswoops over my head and lands on the floor with a soft plop, leaving me clad only in my bra. His hands land on the clasp, and I tear my lips away from his to whisper, “Take it off.”
It follows the same fate of my shirt—over my head, onto the floor—and Julian sits up, holding me tightly against him. I’m still astride his lap, my naked chest against his as his tongue slides against mine. I moan softly, arching my back, the hairs of his chest tickling my throbbing nipples. I reach for his face, my fingers digging into his cheeks as we kiss fiercely.
Suddenly he flips us, and I’m on my back, his hips still nestled between my legs, and his breath catches as he thrusts gently against me, the hard zipper of his jeans clashing against mine. The pressure against the secret places between my thighs is glorious, and I cry out, biting his bottom lip as he pushes against me again.
“Ashley,” he growls, jerking his head back, his tongue darting out to lick his bleeding lip.
“Sorry,” I pant, my chest heaving into his. “I’m…so sorry.”
His lips tilt up in a bemused smile, his eyes gentle as he reaches up to cradle my face. “You’ve never done this before.”
This isn’t a remark about my skill. It’s said with wonder, with awe, even. It’s a realization that experience is unnecessary when chemistry is perfect. And ours is off the charts.
“Neither have you,” I say, taking a chance that the way we feel about each other is as unique for him as it is for me.
“No, I haven’t. Not like this. Not with someone like you.” He chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss me softly before rolling onto his side. “But I think we should pause here.”
Like a petulant child, I want to demand,Why?But I already know the answer. Because too much, too fast, leads to regret.
He gathers me against him—my back against his chest and his arm slung protectively around me, resting under my breasts.His breath is warm near my ear when he whispers, “Try to get some sleep.”
His erection presses against my bottom, which I like. It makes me feel uncharacteristically sassy. “Youtry.”
He laughs again—just a soft rumble of amusement—and the sound makes me smile. “Doudoubaby, don’t tempt me.”
