“I told him that he couldn’t give me the things another man had promised me,” she whispered.
Ash’s hold tightened further. “Go on.”
“He freaked. I mean completely lost it. The words were barely out of my mouth when he slapped me. I was so shocked that I didn’t even know what to do. And then he was standing over me, where I’d fallen, and he hit me again. He wrapped his hands in my hair and accused me of cheating on him. Told me that he’d handled me far too gently. That if he’d been the way he should have with me this would have never happened, that I would have never cheated.”
“Son of a bitch,” Ash ground out. “I’ll kill him for this.”
She shook her head violently. “No! Ash, leave it alone. It’s done with. It’s over.”
“The hell it is!”
He calmed his breathing and forced the rage from his mind and eased his grip on her arm where his fingers had dug into her skin. She would wear no marks from him. None that weren’t given in passion and tenderness. None that she wouldn’t want to wear.
“I should have gone to the police,” she said in a low voice. “I should have pressed charges. Had him arrested. But God, I was just in shock. And then I felt so . . . stupid. How could I not have seen this in him? That capacity for violence? How could I have had sex with him and never known what lay underneath his façade? When I think of what could have happened. I trusted him. Implicitly. I gave him full access to my body. He could have done anything to me. It’s why . . .”
She broke off, going silent against him. He pushed her hair from her battered cheek and then pressed a kiss to the bruised flesh.
“Why what?” he asked gently.
She closed her eyes. “It’s why I didn’t call you. Why I didn’t come to you. Why I didn’t accept what you offered. I was . . . afraid.”
He tensed, his gaze focusing intently on her. “Afraid of me?”
She nodded miserably.
He sucked in his breath. He understood. He didn’t like hearing it, but he understood.
“I get it,” he said, stroking his hand up her arm. “You thought because you misjudged him so badly that you couldn’t trust your judgment of me and my intentions.”
She nodded again.
“I understand, but Josie, you need to get this. I am not Michael.”
She glanced back up at him, hope stirring in her eyes. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust herself and her instincts where he was concerned.
“I will never hurt you,” he said, the vow coming solemnly from his lips. “If we have issues, we work them out. And it does not involve me raising my hand to you. Ever.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Come here,” he murmured, stretching his other arm to her.
She didn’t hesitate and promptly buried herself against his chest. He wrapped both arms around her and held her close, breathing in her scent.
“Pisses me off that you’ll wear those bruises for several more days. I don’t like seeing them, but more than me not liking to see them is you having to see them and remember him hurting you.”
“I’m okay,” she said against his chest.
“You’re not. Yet. But you will be,” he promised. “Give me that, Josie. Give me the chance to show you that we’re right together. I get that you’re gun-shy right now and that you’re doubting yourself, but give yourself into my care. Give me that chance. You won’t regret it.”
She was silent for a long moment, one that had him on edge as he waited for her acceptance.
Then she gave it. One simple word, laced with uncertainty but quiet determination.
“Okay.”
His own chest caved in a bit. He breathed in and out for several seconds before squeezing her to him.
“Sleep now, Josie. Tomorrow we’ll decide what to do about your apartment.”
He held her just as he was doing until her body went lax against his and the soft, even sounds of her breathing filled his ears. And still he waited, tense, replaying every word she’d said earlier. The fear in her voice. The self-condemnation. The image of her lying on the floor, Michael standing over her while he hurt her made it impossible for him to sleep.
It was well past midnight when he quietly picked up his cell phone from the nightstand and punched Jace’s number from his contacts list.
“What the hell?” his friend mumbled into the phone. “This better be good, Ash.”
“I need an alibi,” Ash said.
There was a long silence.
“Jesus. Fuck! What the hell, man? Do you need help? What’s going on?”
Ash glanced down at Josie, her eyelashes resting on her cheeks, the shadow of a bruise still on her face.
“Not now. But soon. Right now Josie needs me. She needs comfort and peace. And she needs to know that I will never hurt her. For now, I’m going to spend every minute making sure she knows this. But then I’m going after the bastard who put these bruises on her face and I’ll need you to help provide an alibi if it becomes necessary.”
“Christ, Ash. What the fuck? Someone hurt Josie?”
“Yeah,” Ash bit out. “And I’m going to make sure he never touches her or any woman ever again.”
Jace blew out his breath over the phone as he grew quiet.
“Whatever you need, man. You have it. Never have to ask.”
“Thanks, man,” Ash murmured. “Talk to you later.”
Chapter twelve
Josie stirred and tried to stretch but immediately ran into a hard body. Her eyes flew open and she blinked rapidly as confusion ran through her mind. Then she remembered. She was in bed with Ash. In Ash’s apartment. In his arms.
Her gaze met the hard wall of his chest, saw the rise and fall of that beautiful male flesh. She inhaled, savoring his smell. Her lips were so close that she could easily press her mouth to his skin. And she was tempted.
But they weren’t lovers waking up after a night making love. They hadn’t had sex at all. Yet. They didn’t know each other at all beyond a few pleasantries and one conversation over dinner.
And yet she was here in his bed after agreeing to move in with him.
She closed her eyes and wondered again if she was making the right decision. Her mind and heart argued incessantly, and she still wasn’t sure who was the clear winner. Maybe there wasn’t one. She was going to have to wing this, because there was no clear and easy “right” decision.
Hesitantly, she lifted her gaze, holding her breath as she looked up to see if he was awake. Her eyes met his and she felt the jolt all the way to her toes. He was definitely awake and he was staring intently at her. As if he could reach in and pluck her thoughts right from her head.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
She dipped her head as heat crept over her cheeks.
“Josie?”
She glanced back up to see the question in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
She swallowed. “This is hard.”
He slid his hand up her body, over her arm and then up to tangle in her hair before brushing his fingers over the curve of her cheek.
“Never said it would be easy. Nothing good ever is.”
That was true enough. And no, Ash would definitely never be easy. Nothing about him was simple or uncomplicated.
“Like waking up, you in my arms.”
The statement rumbled from his chest and warmth seeped into her blood, traveling through her body.
“I liked it too,” she whispered.
“Want you to feel safe here,” Ash said in a serious tone. “Safe with me.”
“I do.”
“Good. Now give me your mouth so I can tell you good morning properly.”
She tilted her chin upward and placed her hand against his chest. He flinched beneath her touch, his muscles tight and quivering. She withdrew hastily, but he caught her hand and guided it back to his chest.
“Like you touching me,” he murmured. “I’ll want it often. Just like I’ll be wanting to touch you anytime you’re near me. If we’re in the same room, Josie, I’m going to be touching you.”
And then he kissed her, his warm, sensual mouth working exquisitely over hers.
It was gentle. Undemanding. Coaxing, almost.
She sighed into his mouth and relaxed, going limp against him, trapping her hand between their bodies.
“Been waiting for this,” he murmured. “You in my bed. Your mouth on mine. You the very first thing I taste in the morning. The last week has driven me crazy, Josie. Waiting for you. For this. And I finally have it. I’m not letting it go.”
“I’ve been waiting too,” she admitted. And she had. She’d dreamed about it. Wondered how it would feel. And now she knew. It felt . . . right.
Her earlier worries evaporated. Her questions. Her fears. The idea that she was making the wrong decision. They were gone in a perfect moment of absolute rightness. This was what she wanted. What he could give her. And she wasn’t going to fight it or herself any longer.
He rolled her onto her back, coming up and over her, his body looming big and strong. He kissed her again, deepening it this time. Allowing his urgency to bleed into her mouth.
His lips moved strongly over hers, demanding, taking. He stole her breath. She couldn’t breathe because he didn’t let her.
“I was determined to wait. To be patient,” he rasped out. “Can’t do it, Josie. I have to have you now. Tell me you’re with me. You have to be with me. I can’t be the only one feeling like I’m going to die if I don’t get inside you.”
His impassioned words cut to her core. She arched into him, inviting him without words. But he stopped, his eyes boring intently into hers. He wanted the words. He demanded them.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me you’re with me, Josie. I want to hear you say it so there’s no doubt that this is what you want. As much as I want you, as much as I have to have you, if you’re not with me, this stops now.”
“I’m with you,” she said breathlessly, her heart surging, adrenaline spiking through her veins.
“Thank fuck,” he breathed.
He kissed her again, as if he couldn’t stand to have his mouth away from hers for even a moment. Then he reluctantly dragged his head away, his eyes brimming with lust and arousal.
“Need to get a condom. We’ll talk about alternatives later, but for now, you have to be protected. And we have to get rid of those pajamas. Pink is you. Definitely your color, but right now, I’m dying to see that tattoo.”
She smiled as he rolled off her and rummaged in his nightstand drawer. Then he came back to her and pushed his hands underneath her pajama top to the waistband of her bottoms.
“Been dying to see it ever since that first day in the park where I got just a glimpse when your shirt came up.”
“You saw it already?” she asked in surprise.
He smiled, pausing in his downward push of her bottoms. “Yeah. Drove me crazy. I’ve been thinking about it. I want to see just how far it extends.”
She lifted her butt so he could pull her pajamas the rest of the way off. He tossed the bottoms aside and then began working his way up from the last button, slowly opening her top to reveal the rest of her body.
When he loosened the last button, he pushed the material apart and over her shoulders. She hitched herself upward, wanting to be rid of the top every bit as much as he did. This time it was she who sent the piece of clothing sailing across the room to hit the floor near the bathroom.
His gaze was riveted to the tattoo. She watched as his eyes tracked downward, following the line of the design to where it flowed over the top of her thigh and disappeared between her legs.
She shivered at the intensity in that stare. There was a brooding possessiveness. A look that screamed, “Mine!”
Ash turned Josie gently on her side, wanting to see the entirety of the tattoo. It was startling in its vibrancy, a shock of color against pale skin. Done in pinks, oranges, aqua blues that matched her eyes and shades of purple and green.
It was, as he’d suspected, a flowering vine, but it was rendered in exquisite detail. This was no simple tattoo done in a few hours time. He couldn’t imagine the time it had taken. The patience exerted in getting the design done just right.
He let his fingers trail over her skin, tracing the lines to where it flared over her hip and then across the top of her thigh before dipping lower, on the inside of her thigh. He turned her again, to her back this time, his fingers resting next to the golden curls covering her mound.
“Show me,” he said in a low growl. “Spread your legs, Josie. Show me the tattoo and that sweet little pussy.”
Her eyes blanked and widened, the pupils flaring and then constricting. But she obeyed instantly, her legs going slack and slowly parting to bare herself to his gaze. He stroked the soft curls, approving of her easy acquiescence.
“Beautiful,” he said, the words thick in his throat. The tattoo, all that sweet, pink, feminine flesh. Josie was beautiful.
