Undone, Volume 3 (3 page)

It was still hard to
remember much of last night, but I could remember feeling like I
needed to get away. Catching glimpses of Ash with all those
celebrities. We’d been in the same room and yet I’d felt miles
apart. I’d been filled with the conviction that things were wrong
between us and couldn’t be set right.

Then he emerged from
the kitchen in a T-shirt and jeans, walking toward me in wool socks.
It was the socks that did me in. They looked warm and homey and not
at all cool. He carried two heaping bowls of pasta, topped with red
sauce and parmesan cheese.

“Sorry, I just
guessed that you liked sauce and cheese. I should have asked first.”

“Oh, you think? Is
asking first a good idea?” I couldn’t help but jab him. You
couldn’t just drag a passed-out woman off into a remote cabin in
the wilderness. People didn’t do that sort of thing. Even if the
cabin was like something out of a home decorating show, with accents
of burnished bronze and charming antique snowshoes displayed above
the fireplace. What was the ceiling, like 25 feet high? Not that
something like that would impress me enough to forget how very
wrongly he’d behaved.

I set my mouth into a
scowl. But I couldn’t keep it like that, not as I forked a large
bite of pasta into my mouth. Spaghetti, al dente. Yes, I was sure the
sauce came from a jar but I could tell it was a fancy jar, some kind
of gourmet sauce that probably cost over $10 a pop. I couldn’t stop
a moan from escaping my mouth as I licked my lips.

“This is good.” I
admitted, looking over at him. He was fixated on my lips, right where
my tongue had last traveled. Heat flared up in me, but I tamped it
down. What had Ash been thinking, kidnapping me like a caveman? He’d
practically thrown me over his big, broad shoulder, taking me here
alone where he could ravish me all day and all night. Uh oh, there
was that flush again. I kept my eyes focused on my pasta and ate a
while in silence.

I cleared my plate.
“Thank you,” I said, placing it down on a coffee table. “I was
starving.”

“Are you feeling any
better?” he asked, settled next to me on the couch.

I nodded. I was. Still
tired, my limbs felt heavy, but the pounding in my head was
subsiding. Sitting there by the crackling warmth of the fire, Ash
starting to play with a lock of my hair, I had to admit I was feeling
all sorts of things. But confused was one of them.

“I’m all mixed up,”
I confessed, for lack of a more sophisticated way of saying it. I
guessed that was the thing about feeling mixed up, you were too mixed
up to express it in a clear, coherent fashion. “I was going to
leave today but you kidnapped me. The thing is, Ash, we live in
completely different worlds.”

“Not right now we
don’t.”

I sighed. “Not right
now. But right now isn’t reality.”

“It is right now.”

“That doesn’t make
sense.”

He smiled slightly and
kept right on twirling my hair around his finger, stroking it in the
firelight. “I’m sorry you’re feeling mixed up. But I’m not
sorry I kidnapped you.”

I nudged him with my
elbow. “Do you realize how crazy you sound?”

He nodded. “I feel
even crazier.”

Something about the
husky note in his voice made me swallow. I felt so aware of his hand
in my hair. This man’s physical presence affected me like no other.
I’d been practically at death’s door a few hours ago, and here he
was, breathing life right back into me with every stroke, every
touch. A slight shiver whispered down my spine.

“Cold?” he
whispered, drawing closer.

I shook my head no. He
knew I wasn’t cold. He knew how he affected me. But I was still
angry with him. Or at least I was supposed to be, wasn’t I?

“Want to warm up in a
bath?” he whispered. “There’s a huge tub in the master suite. I
could work out all of your knots.” He dropped his hand to the nape
of my neck and pressed, massaging me right where I realized I did
have some sore, aching muscles. A bath would feel like heaven.

He stood up. “Come
on.” He extended his hand, his black hair rumpled in an un-styled
way I found even more appealing than his usual sexy coif. “Let me
make you feel good.”

I knew I should still
be stomping my foot, maybe even yelling at him. Last night I’d
resolved that I needed some space, and here he’d up and stolen me
away. To his remote and fabulous cabin in the midst of the wilderness
where no one could find us. It was just the two of us. Hmm.

The slightest smidge of
reluctance still slowing my movements, I placed my hand in his.

True to his word, the
tub in the master bath was gigantic. Fit for a king, I’d never seen
anything like it. He turned on the faucets and steaming water began
flowing out, rapidly filling up the basin. Outside, the wind howled
and the storm raged, but inside we were safe and warm.

Ash turned to me and
slowly unzipped my borrowed hoodie, slipping it down over my
shoulders. I was completely bare underneath it. I didn’t remember
if I’d taken off my bra from last night or not, but then I stopped
wondering as he slipped his hands inside my waistband and pulled down
my pants. I stepped out in just my panties and I could tell by the
way he looked at me, the way his breathing picked up, he wanted to do
more than look. But he held back.

“Turn around,” he
instructed me and with gentle hands, he caressed my back, hips. Then
he slowly drew my panties down my thighs, down to my ankles.

“Why don’t you slip
into the bath?” he suggested, his voice sounding husky. The water
was already halfway full, steam rising from the surface. I couldn’t
resist. Dipping in one foot, then the other, I sank down into heaven.

“Oh.” I exhaled,
eyes closed, my body absolutely crying out for a soak. I ducked
under, submerging every inch into the heat, before rising up again
with a sigh of pleasure.

“Feel good?” he
asked.

“Mmmm,” was all I
could manage. I might have died and passed into the next world, the
feeling was so relaxing, so soothing.

“Here, give me your
foot.” Ash reached down and cupped one of my feet in the palm of
his hand. I let him move me more than extended my foot to him, and he
took my bliss to a whole new level, slowly massaging my foot with his
deft fingers.

“Ooh.” I moaned as
he pressed his thumbs into the center of my foot. Oh dear Lord, he
was so good at touching me, every part of me. How could a woman stay
angry at a man who fixed a roaring fire, made her dinner, drew her a
bath and then massaged her feet? It was scientifically proven, the
level of anger ran inversely proportionate to the level of pleasure.
And just then pleasure flooded through me.

He moved to the other
foot and I would have promised him anything, mountains of rubies, the
Mediterranean Sea, all sorts of things I didn’t have and never
would, just to keep him touching me that way. Maybe this whole
kidnapping thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Around at the other end
of the tub, Ash brought his hands to my wet shoulders. He drew my
hair to the side and began to rub my aching muscles. I must have
slept in all kinds of funny positions because every muscle in my back
and neck cried out for attention. Ash gave it. With magic fingers, he
pressed and pulled, kneaded and worked me until I felt so flush and
pliant beneath his touch. All of the tensions dissolved straight out
of me into the swirling mass of bubbles, and I leaned back into his
touch.

“Still mad at me?”
he asked in a low voice by my ear.

“I was going to go to
New York.” I managed to not entirely cave immediately.

“You can’t go
anywhere in this storm.”

“I could have flown
out of Vegas.”

“Yes, but I wanted
you all to myself.”

Now he started in on my
scalp, massaging in some shampoo, working his fingers in circles,
stroking my temples. Turned out thinking got even harder when a man
did that.

“You didn’t like
that party last night,” he murmured to me. What I’d found so
troubling now sounded so soothing coming out of his mouth.

“It’s not my
scene.” I pictured all the flash and glam, the showy
see-and-be-seen vibe, the frenetic energy of everyone pushing for the
spotlight.

“It’s not mine,
either. Not anymore.” Ash’s voice felt nearly hypnotic, the light
down low, the warm water swirling around my languid limbs. But what
did he mean? He was a rock star. He strutted and posed better than
anyone I’d ever seen.

“Sometimes I feel
like I don’t know who you are,” I confessed, relaxation drawing
pure honesty from me.

“Let me show you.”

He took a warm sprayer
and rinsed my hair, then brought his hands back down to my shoulders,
my back, my chest, rubbing, stroking, caressing, massaging.

“Ana,” he murmured,
and his voice sounded so enticing, so deep and sexy I felt a low
throb between my thighs. “There’s something I want to talk with
you about. But I want you in the right headspace before I do.”

I felt so languid under
his hands, so mesmerized by his touch, his nearness. Like he’d cast
a spell on me, turning one sort of ache in my body into an entirely
new sort. An ache nonetheless, but this ache felt so good.

“Yes, Ash.” I’d
talk to him about anything.

“Are you ready to
come out of the bath?”

I nodded and he helped
me out, then wrapped me in a giant, soft towel. I dried my limbs and
then he took it from me, leaving me pink and warm and entirely naked.

“Come with me.” He
led me into the master bedroom. Huge and dark, he snapped on a soft
lamp on the bedside table. The bed looked enormous, more than a king,
with an elaborate headboard and large posts on all four corners. He
pushed some of the dozens of pillows to the side, turned down the
heavy satin comforter, and welcomed me into soft sheets.

I eased in, the sheets
caressing my limbs. Still with his clothes on, he slipped in behind
me, spooning my back to his front. With a long, luscious exhale, I
sank back into him. I loved his masculine smell, the big, solid feel
of him against me, the way we fit together, my ass back into his
groin.

“Anika.” He
breathed my name into my neck, kissing me there as I arched back my
head. Licking, sucking, he kept it gentle, worshipping my skin. But
against the soft skin of my buttocks I could feel his urgency, the
hard, pressing need he still had zipped up in his pants. I wanted him
out of them, the feel of his skin against mine, the heat we created
once we both stripped down.

“It’s going to snow
for days,” he whispered into my ear, licking the edge, sending
shivers down the length of my body. Why did his words thrill me? Not
long ago I’d been worried about flashlights. Now I hoped the storm
would never end.

He brought his hand
down to my hip and waist and caressed me, making me so aware of my
soft, feminine curves against his solid, male hardness. I ground my
ass back into his shaft and heard him suck in his breath, his fingers
digging into my skin.

“You’re so
responsive, Ana,” he praised me, continuing his explorations,
weaving his fingers down my thighs, up my stomach, around my
shoulder. My breathing quickened and I could feel heat building up in
my core, my need for him starting to burn.

“It’s like your
body was made for me.” He licked and kissed my shoulder, weaving
his fingers along my waist, marking, worshipping every inch. So warm,
so completely naked, I came alive under his fingers, slowly stroking,
building. There in the dark, there was something so hot about the way
he was holding me. Something so possessive, so carnal about the way
he fastened my hip to his as he bit into my neck. I couldn’t see
his face, didn’t know what he’d do next and it felt secret and
naughty there in the dark, just the two of us.

I wanted more of him. I
could feel the length of his cock pressing into my backside, the
long, hard ridge teasing me, so close yet still under lock and key.
One of my arms was pinned under my body, but the other one was free.
Slowly, stealthily, I reached it back and found his hips. I grabbed
onto him, pulling him against my ass at the same time as I ground
back into him. There, like that, I showed him with my body how I
wanted him to take me, from behind, just like that.

“Put your hand back
on your thigh,” he growled, sounding harsh and commanding. Shocked,
a little embarrassed, I did as he told me, removing my naughty hand
and putting it back where it belonged. Chastened, I stilled my body.

“Anika.” His voice
caressed me, his breath teasing my bare neck. “I want to teach you
how good you can feel.” He dropped his mouth to my sensitive skin
and gave me a slow lick, then murmured into me, “Do you want to
feel good, baby?”

I practically melted
into him with a sigh. But I kept my hand where he’d told me and
part of me still felt on edge, that heightened awareness. Had he not
liked it when I’d grabbed him?

“I love how much you
want me,” he said, as if sensing my questions and offering
reassurance. “It feels good when you show me how much you need me.
Remember how you rode me last night?”

I felt heat flush
through me, some shyness still mingling in there with the arousal of
remembering how I’d attacked him backstage, grabbing his cock and
shoving my pussy down onto every inch of him.

“That was good, Ana.
Remember how I came?” I moaned as I did remember it, our sweat
mingling, his deep groan, the way he’d clamped his hand over my
mouth to muffle my own orgasmic cries. “I remember how you came on
my cock.”

My pussy practically
dripped at his words, visceral memory gripping my body. I could feel
his long, hard cock still pushing into my behind, his tense, ready
need there as he spoke. I wanted to push back into him again. But
he’d stopped me last time. So I didn’t move.