Down to Ash (#Dirtysexygeeks Book 2) (2 page)

“The longer I waited in the restaurant for my date, the more I drowned my sorrows. I mean, does he not know I'm a catch? I'm sweet. Well...sweet-ish. I'm funny. Great in...” She met his gaze as though hearing exactly how that sentence would play out.

The smallest flicker of heat in her eyes made him believe she'd finish saying the words in a brazen tone. She'd tell him in exacting detail how she'd rock his fucking world.

Yeah,
her gaze seemed to taunt.
Look at me, Vic. See me and know I'm incredible in bed.

And the way she sucked in a shaky breath, he couldn't help but think—
No
. He shut down that line of thinking. Ash was uncomfortable talking about sex with him. That wasn't lust reflecting back at him in her eyes. No reason for him to tense in anticipation.

“You were saying?” He prayed she didn't finish the sentence. He hoped like hell she'd tell him just how wet and snug her pussy would feel around his cock. Or, fuck, her mouth. Her hand.

She licked her top lip. The nervous gesture drew his gaze to the last place it needed to be—her mouth.

“Anyway,” she rushed out in a breathless mutter, “by the time
likely
became a sure thing, I’d had three strawberry daiquiris and the bartender had made them more daiquiri than strawberry.”

Just that easily, she cut the tension.

He chuckled as he put the car into drive. Bubbly and honest. Yeah. Ash was the fire, and rum had been thrown on her. She'd only smile if he growled at her today.

“Ash, you're drunk. Go home,” he said, using the pop culture reference to continue to roll with her light humor.

“You're taking me so I'm covered. Vic to the rescue.” A sharp edge of bitterness in her tone didn't make that sound like a compliment. “Did Porter tell you to give me a lecture?”

That tone was exactly what he wanted to hear, yet it didn't make him happy. “He told me I should bring a bucket,” he said, his voice flat.

She made a drunken
pfft
sound. “He's the lightweight. I still remember his college graduation. I
still
have nightmares,” she said and then laughed. “I just need to eat and probably drink half an ocean of water.”

She paused, focusing on his face as though there were just too many of him. “Iris, my friend, set up the blind date. She showed me a picture of the guy and he was cute. Dark chocolate skin, hazel eyes. Knowing her, she did the same with me. I don't think that prick thought I was pretty. Do you think I'm pretty?”

The innocuous question crawled down his spine and gripped it. She'd been the star of his very first wet dream. So, fuck yeah, he thought she was a knockout, but he wasn't going to answer the question out loud. Ever. “Do you have something to eat at your apartment?”

“Yeah. I can forage.” She snapped her fingers and sat up straighter. “That reminds me. I've been meaning to call you. Don't you test security for the Internet? Updates...” She sighed, shaking her head. “I mean, don't you do everything short of taking over every computer and making the world your bitch?”

Warmth spilled into him. No one really knew what he could do. His friends knew him, knew he made money fixing computers now, and still they assumed he did nothing but update Windows all day. How in the hell had she noticed? “Something like that. Why?”

“I rec'd you to my boss. We keep getting hit with viruses then we're down for a few days. Our tech left last week on maternity leave and didn't have time to fix it.”

He glanced at her, surprised at the offer—warmed by it actually. Victor wasn't exactly nice to Ash, but not only had she recommended him for a job, she’d recommended him for a job where she also worked. She was sticking out her neck for him. Not many people would do that for someone who regularly...The thoughtful gesture said so much about her, and once again proved why he didn't deserve to breathe her fucking air.

“Thanks,” he said, simply.

She shrugged and then looked down as though touched by the single word. “Sometimes you're nice to me, and that leaves me feeling...charitable.”

“When have I ever been nice to you?” he asked, the question sharp.

“Usually there's this cold draft from hell right before.”

He laughed, couldn't help it. “Exactly.”

“My sophomore year in college.”

She didn't have to say anymore for him to remember. He'd been on leave and had gone to Porter's, like always, to spend time with his friend. She'd been there, crying. After working six hours to finish her take-home mid-term, her laptop had died—blue screen of death. He'd spent the rest of the night and too much of his own money to retrieve the lost document. When they'd shipped him back to that godforsaken desert, he'd sometimes closed his eyes and remembered the hug she'd given him, the joyful squeal...her warmth.

He shrugged and hoped the memory would fall away just as easily. “Yeah, I have my moments.”

She was silent for a long second before she sighed. “Anyway, I figured you could use the work so I offered your name. Still don't know why you just don't go with a place like Goo—”

“I'd rather work on my own.”

Needed
to be more specific. Large crowds still put him on edge. Much worse when he didn't get a full eight hours of rest. Sometimes he needed to work from home and set his own hours until the storm passed.

“That doesn't make any sense,” she argued. Liquor had probably made Ash's brain swim, and still she looked at him with a sharp intensity. “You're smart, focused. You're a veteran. It makes you a hero. People love vets.”

Victor didn't feel like one on his best days. He kept his mouth shut and fixed his gaze on the road until he pulled into her apartment complex.

She lurched out of the truck after he h
ad parked before he could offer to help her down. She bent and her head disappeared from the window's view. Cautious at what he might find, he climbed out of the car. By the time he rounded the vehicle, she had her heels in one hand.

Ash blinked up at him when she'd straightened. “You move quietly. Are you sure you weren't a SEAL?”

“Come on.” He gestured to her apartment when she didn't move. “I'm not leaving until I know you're safe.”

She braced her hands on her hips. “You're scowling at me again. Is it because I asked about Iraq?”

“I don't talk about it.”
With you
he added in the quiet.

The way her face softened in understanding made him wonder if she had heard those two unspoken words. Maybe, because the heat, the light died out in her eyes. Victor almost stepped forward to cup her face, to caress her bottom lip until that light damn near burned him from the inside out.

Her voice was soft, a little hurt when she said, “If it wasn't the question I asked, then that leaves being around me, in general, puts you in a shitty mood. Why did you pick me up if you hate me so much?”

“I don't hate you and Porter asked me to.”

“Right, Porter.” Her voice was still soft, vulnerable.

Gut punch
.

He balled his hands, refusing for the millionth fucking time to give in and touch her. He deserved a medal. Facing down bombs that could end his life or rip off his limbs—piece of cake. Not cupping Ash's chin as she lifted it in defiance at his reticence—yeah, that was fortitude, bravery.

He sighed, took her arm, and helped her to the door. Or maybe he was actually half-dragging Ash, given her muttering about being manhandled, and men, and brothers, and hot, sexy, guarded Korean men.

His step only faltered once, at the last part, but since he figured it was a one-sided conversation, he didn't bother to reply. Didn't even let himself revel over the fact she thought he was sexy.

“Where are your keys?” His voice was a little too rough, and from the way her gaze narrowed, the change in it hadn't escaped her.

Raising a brow, almost in challenge after his brush-off, she reached down the front of her dress. Her cleavage flashed, along with black lace that pushed her breasts up and together in a tantalizing buffet for his eyes.

As always, he'd ignored her, she’d retaliated. She was baiting him to prove he saw every inch of her and that he couldn't look away even if he tried.

She was right, because he looked every fucking time. He got a little dizzy at the sudden loss of blood in his head.

Ash chuckled, likely catching his blanched expression—a sure sign she'd won their silent battle of wills, again.

“What?” Her voice was pure innocence. “God gave me a built-in purse and it’s called
my boobs
.”

Victor clamped his jaw and glared at the sky.

She was drunk. He wasn't going to make a dirty joke. He wasn't going to make a pass at her. He sure as shit wasn't going to let her bait him any more than she already had. Forty more years to hold out, then he could donate his body to science, because he would have likely died from his perpetual erection.

Porter's sister.

One of his best friend'
s
sister
. Hell, damn near a sister to all his friends in the Goon Squad. She was playful and honest with all of them. Easy to love. Too easy. And because of that Victor could say they probably all did love her in their own way.

Thinking like that won't get me out of this shit show.

After her third failed attempt to unlock it, he grabbed her keys and did it himself. He would have pushed her inside, but that would have forced him to touch her again.

“I would have done it,” Ash said. “Eventually.”

She stepped inside all loose-limbed and carefree and didn't close the door.

Victor leaned against the doorjamb and called out, “You forgot your keys.”

She kept walking as though she hadn't heard him, headed toward the kitchen. He should close the door and walk away, but she probably wouldn't lock up once she realized he'd gone.
Whenever
she realized he'd gone.

Porter had entrusted him to take care of his sister. If anything happened to her, the fault would be on Victor's head. In her current condition, she could pass out and choke on her own vomit. Hit her head in the shower and bleed out. Death. Death. And more death. Of course, death was the only scenario his mind could offer up, and now that he’d thought about anything happening to her, he couldn't leave.

He could recite every reason why he should walk away. He could remind himself of every time Porter had saved him, and that the only thing his friend ever asked for in return was for Victor to not cross a line with Ash. Hell, Ash would be pissed if she knew Victor considered her vulnerable and fragile in her current state, or ever.

With a defeated sigh, he palmed the keys and stepped inside her apartment.

~Gamer Truth: Walkthroughs are for pussies...except when you've been stuck on the same quest for two hours. Then use the damn cheats.~

By the time Victor caught up to her in the kitchen, she was munching on an apple. She'd already thrown her shoes underneath the wooden table.

Her kitchen was neat, spacious, and girly. A glass vase in the middle of the table held pink roses, and somehow they perfectly matched the black-and-white checkered chairs and frilly pink chandelier hanging over the table. That checkered theme ran throughout the kitchen, except for the oven mitts. Hearts decorated those.

Everything in the kitchen fit Ash…except Victor.

He didn't belong there, not even for a moment. He was standing in her very feminine space, his hands curling into fists to keep from sullying anything with his touch, and still wishing he could be a part of her world. Fuck—even just wishing he could be a man who didn't only thrive in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” He sounded more annoyed than he'd meant to.

“I'm starving.” Ash opened the cabinet, but was standing much too close and ended up smacking herself in the forehead with the door.
She pursed her lips and glared at the cabinet as though it was the one in the wrong.

He could only stare impotently at her before the rest of his frustration spilled out. “Sit down before you kill yourself.”

“My depth perception might be off. I'm going to do more than regret those drinks, but I'm only tipsy.”

“Go sit down,” he grated out.

Although she sighed, she didn't argue as she passed him. That and only that told him how much she’d had to drink. She sprawled into a kitchen chair and then grinned at him.

Air whooshed out of his lungs. Could she not be...adorable? Shaking his head, he checked her fridge. The shelves were lined with decorative plastic wrap for easy cleanup. Also pink and checkered. He needed to leave and quick.

But he couldn’t. He spotted pork chops thawing on the bottom shelf. That he could handle. “Sides?”

“Cabinet.” She frowned then rubbed at her temples. “Why I almost TKO'd myself. I stock up on microwavable stuff. I keep lots of them in there because I'm a single lady,” she said the last part in a singsong tone.

Ash, singing. No fucking way she was just tipsy, yet she'd called Porter the lightweight.

“How much did you drink?” he asked again, amusement edging in on his disgruntlement.

“No.
No
. I found the bar in the restaurant after being stood up.” As though that was an unshakable defense.

“And then what?”

Her eyes widened with faux innocence, a smile tugging at her mouth again. “I drank it.”

Victor almost choked on a laugh. “I see.”

How did she always manage to draw him in even when he was being a dick?

He chose a garlic and butter rice that he could pop into the microwave with minimal fuss. She had about twenty of them. And she would probably need to eat all twenty of them to level out the alcohol in her system.

Right in his line of sight sat a bottle of whiskey. A fifteen-minute favor had turned into an hour, at least. An hour alone with her. They'd never been unchaperoned for that long before.

He'd go over to Porter's and she'd be there. They'd both be aware Porter was on his way. Or they'd be sitting alone in Grady's living room, and would find things to talk or argue about. When they were younger, there had been school, parents...a thousand things that had stood in their way of being
alone
.