Until Ashlyn
Page 28

“Fuck me, now you’re mad that I won’t let you move into a house you hate?”
“No, that’s stupid,” I hiss, even though it is partly true. “I’m mad, because I’m trying to do something to show you that I love you, and you’re being a giant dick about it.”
“What did you just say?”
“You’re a giant dick,” I huff and turn to leave, but before I even make it two steps, he’s on me. His arms wrap around me from behind then he spins me around to face him.
“Tell me what you said.”
“I did.”
“Tell me again.”
“You’re a dick,” I repeat, wondering why the hell he wants me to keep calling him that.
“No, the part about you being in love with me.”
“What?” I rear back in a panic, realizing what I admitted to him, not even realizing that I was admitting it.
“You love me,” he repeats quietly, and I stare, having no idea what to do now. “We’ll try my place out for a few weeks. If you don’t like it, we’ll put it back on the market and find a place you and I can agree on.” He smiles then drops his face and nuzzles my neck. “You love me?”
“I’m rethinking it,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck while tilting my head to the side to give him better access to the column of my throat.
“It’s too late for that.” He leans back, smiling down at me, then places a soft kiss against my lips. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Good, me either, let’s go.” He grabs my hand and starts to lead me away, but I stop him.
“Where are we going?”
“Pizza, I’m starving.”
“Where did you go today when you left?” I frown; he was gone three hours, maybe a little more than that.
“I drove around for a bit then went to Jax and Ellie’s.”
“You did?” I whisper in disbelief, and his face softens.
“He and I are good. He knows how I feel about you, and I needed his advice on how to proceed. You’re not exactly an open book.”
“Oh, Lord,” I groan. “I can only imagine what he said to you.”
“Nothing bad. He told me to get over myself, that I’m the first man you have ever been serious about and I need to give you time to adjust to us being an us.”
“That’s good advice.” I nod, and he shakes his head in denial.
“I don’t think so,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to rest against mine. “I want all of you. Your mind, your soul, and most importantly your heart. I want every breath you take to be for me. I want to imprint myself into your skin so you’ll crave me like a drug and never want to be without me.”
“I think you may be crazy,” I cut in, studying the sincerity in his eyes. He really does want that from me, and the scary thing is, I think I already feel that way about him.
“I’m in love with a woman who has made me crazy.”
“You’ve made me crazy too,” I say quietly, and his face moves closer to mine.
“No more fighting about the things that don’t matter. We have enough to deal with without fighting each other.”
“You need to take your own advice.”
“I’ll try,” he agrees, kissing me once more. “Now let’s go eat, I’m starving.”
“Okay,” I agree, letting him lead me out of the house to his car that is parked in the driveway.
Once we are both in and buckled, he backs out of the drive and heads down one street after another, out of my subdivision, with his hand wrapped around my jean-covered thigh while his fingers stroke my skin through one of the many holes in the material.
“You’re going to make that tear enormous if you keep doing that.” I place my hand over his, catching him smile out of the corner of my eye. Running my fingers over the top of his hand, I watch the screen on his dash light up, announcing that he has a call, and my body freezes when I see the she-bitch-from-hell’s name pop up, catching me off-guard.
“Fuck me,” he mutters, pressing deny on the call after the second ring.
“Why is she calling you?”
“Probably because her parents have been calling and I’ve not answered their calls.” I try to take a few breaths before I speak, because I don’t want to sound like a crazy woman when I do talk, but seriously, what the hell?
“Why are her parents calling you?” Okay, good, that came out sounding halfway normal and not screeched at the top of my lungs like it did in my head.
“Are you ready to talk about her and me?”
God, am I? I don’t think so, but I really need to understand what the hell is going on.
“I’m taking that as a no,” he mutters, sounding disappointed.
“Are you close with her family?” I question, figuring that’s a safe place to start.
“My brother and I lived with her parents after ours passed away,” he says, and my hand over his spasms. Flipping his palm upright, his fingers lace with mine and his thumb rubs gently over the rapid pulse in my wrist.
“What about your grandparents?”
“My grandfather passed the year before my parents, and my grandmother had been in the hospital for a while with dementia and passed away my second year of college.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” he says softly, but I still catch the twinge of pain in his tone.