Ash Rising (DEAd Series) (31 page)

“Buffalo’s only, what, about three hours from here?”

“It is.”

“Is that something you’d consider?” His voice was carefully neutral. “Moving from New York City to Buffalo?”

“Working undercover, I could get sent anywhere, but my home office would be Buffalo. I’ve enjoyed working with everyone in the RCMP, despite the lack of progress on this.” Her sweeping gesture encompassed the mess on the table. A deep breath eased the sudden pressure in her chest, and she placed her hand over his fingers where they stroked over the back of her neck. “I’ve liked being here with you.”

He stopped to pull her chair out, turning and crouching at her knees. Emma met his serious blue eyes when the heat of his palms settled on her thighs.

“I like you being here. Like being with you. Buffalo isn’t that far. We can make it work, if that’s what you want. Unless you want to go back to the States and just…well, chalk this up to an amazing couple of months you’ll remember fondly.”

“I want more than just memories. I want to keep making them. I want you, this, the whole thing. I’m not ready to walk away. I’m not.”

He stood, pulling her up with him and framing her face in his hands. “Not ready to let you. We’re adults and fairly intelligent, reasonable people. We can figure it out, right?”

She exhaled, a smile trembling on her mouth. “Yes.
Yes
.”

Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezed tight, and he pulled her up off her feet.

“Good. I’d chase you down no matter where you went, but good to know I won’t have to.”

Oh, the things he said. “Well, I’m reasonable and intelligent. You provide the brute strength, stubbornness, and really great sex in this relationship.”

“I’ll take the brute strength part but argue the stubbornness and really great sex. You can hold your own in those departments.” He lifted her over his shoulder and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. “Let’s put it to the test, eh?”

“Feel like celebrating,” he murmured in her ear as his long, heavy body pressed her into the mattress. “This feels like something to celebrate, doesn’t it?”

No way she’d cry, not even happy tears. Felt like a commitment, all right. Like the first tendrils of a future, of not having to give him up, not setting a time limit on being together. She stretched to contain the deep-seated thrill and tilted her pelvis. “Feels like you already are. I like celebrations. Champagne celebrations, especially.”

“I can arrange that,” he murmured, stroking the wild strands of hair from her face. Emma pulled his head down for a kiss, but he avoided her mouth, brushed his lips and stubbled jaw down her neck and across her collarbone. “I was thinking about taking you out.”

“We go out.” She rolled her head back to give him better access. They did, although they spent most of their time at the lake house indulging in each other.

“Somewhere special. Somewhere fun. Anywhere you’d like to go?”

Was there? He’d already taken her to some great restaurants and most of the touristy places. Neither of them really enjoyed clubs or social hot spots, but she’d always wanted to go to one of Toronto’s grand old theaters.

“I’d love to go to the Royal Alex, see what’s playing there or at any of the others. I haven’t been to a play or opera in ages.”

The wet heat of his mouth paused on its way to her breast but continued when she arched until his teeth scraped over the peak. She forgot about celebrating in any other way as his hands and tongue triggered enough fireworks to scramble her brain.

“Mr. Beaulieu, welcome. So good to see you again.”

Both theatergoers and employees of the Royal Alexandra greeted Ash as he guided Emma through the lobby, the quick flashes of surprise on their faces turning to interest and curiosity. At first, she thought the glances were due to the mouthwatering and perfectly tailored suit he’d bought for the occasion, as none of his old jackets fit after the changes his body had been through since his recovery. Or maybe because of his job with the Mounties, the media coverage of the bombing, but that had been quite a while ago. His parents had been avid theatergoers, patrons, even, so maybe…

Crap
. Oh, crap.

“Hav
e you been back to the theater since your mom and dad died?” Emma asked. She’d read how Rico Salvatore had used Ash’s name on the fake letter and theater tickets to set up their murder.

A muscle ticked along
his jaw, but when he turned to look at her, his eyes were clear and the curve of his mouth seemed genuine. If she didn’t know him so well, she would have been completely fooled. His hand slid over the snug fitting velvet of her dress as he stepped close to hide the quick, intimate caress with his body. The backs of his fingers stroked down the bare length of her arm, but her shiver came from the brush of his lips behind her ear.

“
Yeah. Once.”

She glanced at him sharply, but he kept his
gaze forward. Emma tightened her hand around his biceps and took a step to the side so they stood out of the lazy flow of theater-goers. “Ash. We don’t have to stay if this is too much.”

“No, I’m all right. W
asn’t too long after I got out of the hospital. Came by myself.” Taking her hand, he gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Don’t remember now what show I saw, but I came. Mom and Dad loved going to the theater. The three of us spent a lot of nights here at the Alex. They’d be disappointed if I let what happened ruin good memories or keep me from doing something I enjoyed.”

Her heart pounded in her throat and strangled her breath. Not
the time or place, but she had to take advantage of the opportunity. Emma leaned forward, holding his gaze as she brought her mouth to his. Would he let her kiss him? Or maybe kiss her himself—kiss her mouth—but at the last second, he tipped his head and ran his lips over her cheek, along her jaw. The caress raised goose bumps and the fine hairs along her nape, but…He’d done it again. He avoided her mouth.

“Ash,” she breathed, heart heavy despite the erratic beat, and took a step back
.

He frowned, hand reaching to trail down her arm—
she never pulled away from him. Emma took a deep breath and curved her hand over his smooth cheek.

“Ash, Liz wouldn’t want to keep you from something you enjoyed, either. She wouldn’t want you to keep punishing yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” His hand snapped to his side, eyes cooling from heated blue to crisp ice, and his voice reflected the dangerous drop in temperature between them.

Heart twisting
, she pressed on. She had to, for him, for the both of them. For Liz, even. They stood close, creating a small intimate world in the midst of the bustle of the patrons heading to their seats. The space was quiet and suddenly the center of her universe.

“Kiss me, Ash.”

“I just kissed you, greedy thing.” He smiled, but she kept her serious gaze leveled on his.

“You don’t.”

“I kiss you all the time.” He brought her hand to his mouth, arched his brow pointedly as he kissed the back, then turned her palm over and opened her fingers, pressed his mouth to the center.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He stared, his face hard and forbidding. He was good. The expression would have been enough to make her drop the subject altogether if she wasn’t in love with him up to her eyebrows.

“Ash
, I’m sorry. I didn’t know her or you back then, but see you closing yourself off like this kills me. Why do you keep denying yourself? Denying me? You can’t tell me she’d want that. You can’t tell me
you
want that. You don’t deny yourself anything you want.”

Blue
eyes blazed, and her heart leapt. Not in fear, not of him, but that she’d pushed too hard, gone too far, and in public. She couldn’t blame him for being furious with her, but she didn’t regret the words.

H
is voice rasped low with suppressed anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Emmaline. None at all.”

“Ash.” A n
umbing, burning shock of adrenaline hit her system. She cursed silently when her mouth trembled in reaction, sick for ruining the lovely evening he’d planned.

“You think I don’t kiss you because of her?
Because of Liz? That’s what you think?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer but tightened his grip on her wrist and yanked her closer. “You have no idea. You want me to kiss you? Is that it? Do you?”

She bit
her traitorous lip. He was furious. She’d gone too far. Too early in their relationship and too public—a serious miscalculation. He gripped her bare shoulders when she opened her mouth to speak.

“Oh, I’m going to kiss you, Emma
line. I’m going to kiss you and show you why I don’t.”

She only had a second to wonder at those crypt
ic, nonsensical words before he took her hand. Dragging her toward a small alcove where an exit sign glowed, he pushed the door open far enough for the both of them to slip through.

“As
h,” she hissed, throwing a glance behind her.

T
hey’d left the well-appointed public part of the theater for a stark, utilitarian stairwell. He shoved her up against the cold block wall and pressed his body into hers, hands curled around either side of her neck. Thumbs stroked her jaw from chin to ear, his expression still thunderous as he stared. She wasn’t scared of him—just Ash, after all—but the look on his face flipped her stomach because she’d put it there.

“W
ant to know why I don’t kiss you, Emma? Do you?” His usually smooth voice ground rough and ragged in her ear.

“Ash, I’m sorry. I sho
uld have waited. I should have—”

“Not because of her, Emma. Not because of Liz. M
aybe started out that way, maybe for a long time, before you. But ever since the first night we were together, it hasn’t been about that at all. It’s been about you. Been about this.”

His mouth took
hers—hard, wild, and unrestrained. Prepared to fight, her gasp turned to a moan. He kissed her, and nothing had ever felt like that before. Nothing had ever taken her so high, so hard, so fast. His entire body dove into the kiss, taking, not holding back, letting what he felt snap its leash and rage unchecked. Swept away in the onslaught, she clung to him as need overwhelmed.

“This is why,” he hissed in her
ear when he tore his mouth free, hands grabbing the hem of her dress and pushing the snug material over her hips. He returned for another frenzied dive into her mouth when she struggled weakly and started to protest. “Because when I start, I can’t stop. Too much, too soon. I haven’t found my balance with you, Emmaline. Haven’t figured out how to handle what you make me feel.”

Emma panted, staring
at him, her brain screeching to a halt at his unexpected words. One masculine hand wrestled with the fastening on his suit pants while the other slid between her thighs, and he grunted in surprise and satisfaction—or both—as he pushed aside the thin band of lace and elastic. Fingers stroked, testing, and he kissed her again, took her to that place where nothing mattered but him.

“Do you really
believe there’s any room for even the thought of another woman when I’m with you? You think I’m capable of seeing, of feeling, anyone but you? Remembering anyone before you? Of thinking at all? Do you really believe…” He shook his head, his jaw flexing. “This is why I don’t kiss you,” he growled. “Because when I start, I can’t fucking stop.”

He thr
ust into her, and—
Oh
. Oh, yes. Grunting with each stroke, he took her against the wall, and she reveled in his ferocity, in his loss of control, beyond any doubt he thought only of her when they were together. Tears streamed down her cheeks—relief, joy, and indescribable happiness, of…love. She wrapped herself around him and held on, every part of her she could manage—her arms, her legs, her heart. He gasped and shook, pressed harder into the cold wall, pulsing inside her in time with the tremors wracking his body. His heaving breaths gradually slowed, and she let her head go limp against his shoulder.

I’m in love with you
.