And if I feel, how can I be sure I’ll be ready to walk away when the time comes...when she no longer needs me... What if I find I need her instead? What then?
Fuck.
* * *
For the first time I see a crack in the solid exterior that is Ash and I’m not letting it go.
He’s exposed me in so many ways already, and to see that he’s not immune, to see that my playfulness has brought us to this point—I can’t let it lie even if I want to.
It’s disconcerting to feel this bond with someone I’ve only just met. I’d blame it on the fierce attraction still burning strong if not for the fact that I’ve been there, done that. This is something more. It’s deeper than sex. And if I understand him I stand more chance of understanding this. Because I’ve never dared love, never dared risk my heart before. I want nothing less than what my parents had.
Maybe I can find that here.
‘Let’s go and sit down,’ he says.
He doesn’t balk from my touch, but he doesn’t smile at it either. He’s all serious and unreadable, but I feel his acceptance, know that I’m about to get what I pressed for.
I lean into him as he curves an arm around my back and leads me into the living area. It has two floor-to-ceiling glass windows made up of square panes and to the left hangs a painting of a dreamscape, its style very familiar.
‘Is that... Is that a Cleveland?’
His lips quirk at my obvious appreciation. Or is he just happy that we’re off-topic temporarily?
‘He’s a friend of mine.’
‘No way—he can’t be.’
He grins now. ‘Don’t ever say that in front of him. He already has an epic ego and he’ll never let me live it down.’
‘Wow...’ I look back to the painting, to the mixture of reds and blues swirling to create stunning shadows and light, shapes that could be trees, clouds, cliffs, water—whatever you want them to be.
‘It’s called Illusion.’
His voice has turned gruff and I feel his eyes on me. My cheeks warm under his attention. ‘It’s glorious.’
He doesn’t shift focus, and his appreciation is very much on me as I continue to study the piece of art and try to keep at bay the heat simmering just beneath the surface. It would be so easy to roll with it, to get down and naked right here before the masterpiece, but I’d be no closer to understanding what makes this man tick, why my body feels instinctively drawn to him, appreciated and protected by him.
‘I’ll be sure to pass that on when we next meet.’ He reaches out to stroke my hair behind my ear and my lips part just enough for me to breathe.
I turn to look at him, at the heat in his gaze, and swallow. ‘Shall we sit?’
He cocks his brow. ‘Not what I was thinking.’
I roll my eyes to break the mood. ‘You have a one-track mind.’
‘Judging by your colour, I’m not the only one.’
He’s not wrong, and I laugh, but I make my legs obey and head for the sofa, knowing he’ll follow.
I sink down into the dark cushioned softness, its deep back inviting me in further, and I feel my muscles practically sigh at the comfort. Christ, when did I last just sit, relax, do nothing, think of nothing? I close my eyes, only for a second, and I enjoy it.
The sofa shifts with the arrival of his weight and when I open my eyes he’s watching me.
‘Don’t get to sit down much, hey?’
I give him a small smile, but my head stays resting on the sofa back as I tilt it to face him. ‘Such is the life of a busy socialite.’
He doesn’t smile. Instead his mouth thins, his eyes narrow. ‘Is that all you think you are?’