Ash Rising (DEAd Series) (15 page)

Ash nodded curtly.

“No shame in needing some help, not after the news you got today. I don’t want to lose you, not now. Don’t do anything stupid. Ask for help, company, or a punching bag at the gym if you need to. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Ash murmu
red with a jaunty salute, and Pete grimaced at the attempt of his usual flippancy.

“I mean it.”

“I do, too.” Ash gripped the door handle and shifted in the seat. “I need some time to process everything, some time alone, but then…I’ll probably go see Liz.”

Just to make sure
she was okay, if nothing else
. Just to make sure she’s okay.

“All right. And
I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

Ash left the cab and trudged up the short flight of stairs to the front door of his apartment building. He looked around once inside the flat, aware Pete had done a methodical search, but he went through the apartment and everything inside again to find the same as his commander. Nothing to give his identity away.

After his search
, he sat on the worn sofa and stared into space. He’d never get the chance to introduce Liz to his mom and dad. He’d thought he had time, lots of it, to bring the woman he loved home to his parents, but time had run out. His mother would never meet her, never know he’d fallen ass over elbows in love. His children would never meet their grandparents, and the heartache brought him to his knees.

Time passed,
until rays from the setting sun shone through the window and into his eyes to rouse him from the somnolent state. He rose sluggishly and staggered to one side, muscles fatigued and cramped from clamping down on his rioting emotions. Ash caught himself on the arm of the sofa and squeezed his eyes shut until he could stand and walk, act like everything was okay. Like someday he might get back to normal.

Normal? Had his life ever been normal? He
had his parents to thank for his wonderful, privileged life, all the little things that made him who he was. Had he ever shown them his gratitude? They’d known he loved them. At least he had that small comfort. His parents hadn’t been the reserved type when it came to showing their love and affection, and he’d definitely taken on the characteristic—maybe taken it a little too far at times. His stiff cheeks twinged when his lips quirked into a small smile, the first since Andy had told him the terrible news.

He needed Liz, her warmth and
strength, to know she loved him, that she was well and safe and
alive
. Grief threatened to engulf him again, and he pressed fists to his temples. When the room stopped spinning, he grabbed the keys to the motorcycle, his helmet, and headed out the door.

The ride out of town remained a blur, but somehow he made his way to Liz’s house and stood on the porch. He lifted his fist to knock, but strength deserted him, and he braced
against the frame. Head on his arm, he took deep, gulping breaths before banging his knuckles against the door.

Footsteps grew louder before the door
swung open to reveal Liz’s petite form. A wide, bright smile lit her features, her happiness and excitement to see him palpable, and he absorbed the brightness into his wounded soul. Her smile faltered, and she reached for him as he stepped forward to grab her tight. The move wasn’t planned, but he needed her so much. Lifting her off her feet, he crushed her to his chest and buried his face in the rioting hair spread over the crook of her neck. Her warmth and sweetness chased away the misery that had consumed him since that morning. She stiffened for a second and then went soft in his arms to let him take what he needed.

“Ash.
” Liz pushed gently on his chest so she could see his face.

He
attempted to school his expression, but concern clouded her pretty features.

“What’s wrong?”
Fingertips brushed along his cheekbone, under his heavy, burning eyes, touched his lower lip. “Come in and tell me what’s happened.”

He
stood halfway in the doorway, and Liz linked their fingers to pull him into the front room. Ash had been focused solely on her, but his stomach flipped when movement in the hall caught his eye. Damn it, Gina was home. She’d seen, if only briefly, his vulnerability and pain. He’d slipped. Totally unacceptable, especially if her brother had been involved in his parents’ murder. Ash stiffened, and Liz glanced over her shoulder.

“
Gina, could you…” Liz studied his face and then met Gina’s hard stare. “I’m sorry. I hate to ask you to leave your own house, but—”

“Sure.” Gina
sneered, walking over to the table to pick up her purse. “I’ll give you two some time alone.”

Ash’s gaze shot to her
s and narrowed on the smug little grin she sent his way as she swept out the door. Even with the animosity between them, her callous reaction pricked his instincts. Liz put her hand on his cheek and turned his head toward her, distracting him from the thought.

He
didn’t look away, not even when the door shut behind Gina and the lock turned with a metallic click. Liz led him to the sofa, folded her legs and tugged gently on his hand, eased him next to her until he lay with his head in her lap. Soothing, stroking fingers ran through his unruly hair, and Ash sighed as his body went limp for the first time in hours. He didn’t move for a long time, until he felt boneless and disconnected from the events of the day, until the only thing he connected with was her. His face turned into the seam of her jean-clad thighs, not with sexual interest, but his dick stirred anyway. She smelled so good, like fabric softener, girl, and Liz. He inhaled, and she squirmed. Ash lifted his head to look her in the eye.

“I want you.” His voice was rough and unfamiliar in his own ears. “I need you, Lizzie. Let me—
”

“Of course,” she said simply,
and pulled her legs out from under him to stand. Holding his face in her hands, she bent over to kiss his mouth with a soft, gentle touch.

He got to his feet but paused when she
started toward her tiny bedroom. “What about Gina?”

His body
screamed for Liz, but another run-in with her roommate was more than his fragile control could handle. He couldn’t be vulnerable, give himself over to Liz’s care, if he worried about Gina coming home.

Liz
turned to her phone, his hand firmly clasped in hers. Ash managed to remain still, torn between his need for her right then, right there, and wondering why she thought calling someone was important. She murmured Gina’s name, asked about her plans for the evening, and relief trickled through his muddled head when Gina volunteered to stay at a friend’s place.

“No, we’ll be here all
night, I’m positive,” Liz said into the phone. “Thanks, Gina. I really appreciate this.”

Liz
disconnected the call and turned to him, rising up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. He returned the gesture by encircling her waist and lifting so her legs wound around his hips.

“You
need a different place to live,” he murmured. She smiled against his lips at the old and familiar argument.

K
issing her, he walked down the hall and groaned when her pelvis rubbed against his growing erection. He set her gently on the bed, weight braced on one hand while the other worked the button on her jeans. Lifting the hem of his T-shirt, first one side and then the other, she worked the hem up his stomach and past his shoulders, tossing the shirt across the room when she finally freed it from his body. Soft palms spread over his chest, clenched and grabbed onto his arms when his fingers slid beneath the silky material of her panties to find soft, dampened flesh. He teased and tickled, stroked and stirred, until she was breathless. Tossing her shirt and bra off the bed, he followed up with her shoes and jeans, and then his boots and clothes.

A shiver rippled over her skin, but she slid
up the bed before he could cover her with his body. Ash stood before her, letting her see all his flaws and sins, all his blemishes and beauty. She opened her arms wide, and with a muffled, needy sound, he fell into them.

His kiss was urgent and desperate. Liz
gave him her body and offered him her heart. He took both, and a particular kind of joy pierced his grief, a joy he had only ever experienced with her. With Liz. She surrounded him, enveloped him in love and glimpses of beauty. He managed to keep his emotions in check until he’d given her something in return, the pleasure his body could provide, and hoped she felt what he wanted to give her, what his heart and body shouted but his lips couldn’t speak. Clinging to him and grounding him, she cried out, convulsed under his weight, roused to stroke his shoulders and back as his climax took him. Tremors wracked him in the aftermath, in gladness of her.

H
is body and mind sank deep with exhaustion. Drifting, he absorbed the softness of her breast under his cheek, the warmth of her arms around him, and the stroke of her fingers through his hair. Her lips pressed gently to the top of his head, and he sighed, settling into a disturbed sleep, but sleep nonetheless.

Ash woke the next morning cramped, hot, uncomfortable,
but completely content with Liz tucked into the curve of his body. She stirred, snuggling and stretching, but not enough to disturb their intimate cocoon. He settled her against him, skin to skin, despite being overly warm, and she let out a sigh. Her hand covered his where they rested against her stomach and gave a quick, gentle squeeze before she turned in his arms. Fingers skimmed his chin and cheeks, stubble rasped under the tips, and she offered him a sweet smile.

“Good morning
.”

“Morning
,” he returned in a gruff voice with a kiss to her forehead.

Silence stretched, warm but full of unspoken tension, as she
examined his face.

“I love you, Ash,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss e
ach cheek. “What happened yesterday?”

P
ressing her head into his shoulder, he held her close and closed his eyes. “Bad news.”

Liz
pushed against his chest until he relaxed his hold.

“Ash.” She looked at him reprovingly.

“There was…a death in my family.”

“Your family?” She frowned, and then her
features softened. “You don’t talk about them very much.”

“We’re not close.” He
couldn’t meet her eyes as he told the lie, but the curtness in his voice lent an ironic aura of truth to the words.

“I’m so sorry.” She hugged him. W
hen she pulled back, her cheeks were wet.

“Hey. Hey,” he repeated helplessly, undone by the first sign of tears. He stroked her hair
, curling wayward strands behind her ears, and kissed her lips to stop their trembling.

“I’m sorry. I can see how hard this is for you. I wish
I could do something to help.”

“You did. You have. You’re here. You’re exactly what I need, Lizzie. Thank you.”

“I love you.” Her heart was in her eyes, and he kissed her, long, slow, and lingering. Her hands slid over his shoulders, down the long line of his naked back to his bare ass, where she took two big handfuls and squeezed.