Wait for Always, page 6
“Here?” I whispered.
“You have a king-size bed,” he said.
“Right. Uh … sure.”
He shot me a smirk and brushed my loose hair out of my eyes. “As long as you’re okay with that?”
My heart stuttered. “It’s fine with me. I’ll just … I’ll just change.”
I hustled into the bathroom and removed my dress. I pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a sweatshirt. October was my favorite month in the city, but it was cold and drafty at night.
Ash had stripped down to his boxers and was currently lying under the covers. I stumbled slightly at the sight of his muscled chest … in my bed.
His eyes tracked me as I walked around to the other side and got into bed.
“I … might have had too much to drink.”
He laughed. “Derek had too much.”
“Fair.”
When he didn’t say anything else, I leaned over and switched off the light. “Well … good night.”
“Good night, Mia.”
But I couldn’t sleep. I could feel his heat, even across the giant bed. I wanted to roll over and change everything in that moment. But he didn’t want that. He never really had. And it wasn’t fair to want that when he had just gone through a big break up.
“Amelia,” he whispered into the dark.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for having us for the weekend.”
“Anytime.” I swallowed and pushed forward. “You know you can talk to me if you want. If you need to talk about it.”
Ash nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“Good.”
A few minutes later, he said, “I want to forget that it ever happened.”
“That’s how I felt after Camden and I broke up.”
Ash’s eyes snapped up to mine. “You broke up?”
“Yeah. This summer.”
“What happened?”
“You were right about him. He was an asshole.”
“Sounds right.”
I sighed. I didn’t talk about Camden much either, but it was nice to have someone who cared. “I took him to Zoey and Tara’s wedding. And he was just … so judgmental.”
“About them being together?”
“Actually, no. That would have been unforgivable. But he didn’t care that they were lesbians, just that they weren’t … rich. And the crazy part is, they are. Tara’s parents are surgeons. Zoey’s dad is an investment banker in Boston.”
“But it wasn’t good enough for him.”
“No, not like the money he’s used to. He was a dick at the wedding, and then when I called him out on it, he ended it. Said we’d just been having fun anyway.” I sighed. “I always got the impression that I was more serious about it than he was … like I didn’t quite fit. But it was so easy for him to leave me and go back to his Upper East Side friends and not care.”
Ash inhaled sharply. “Yeah, they make it look so easy, don’t they?”
I hesitated before responding, “Did Lila make it seem easy?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. “She did. She slept with someone else. Her ex.”
I winced. “Jesus, Ash.”
“You know … I was willing to forgive her. I thought we’d be able to move past it.”
“Why?” I gasped. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I love her.”
“You don’t deserve that.”
“Well, she left anyway. And I’m not even mad at her, you know? Like, I just wonder if she went back to him. Back to Cole.” He spoke that name as if it were acid.
“So what if she did?” I said, reaching across the bed and taking his hand. “She hurt you. She broke your trust. That isn’t love, Ash.”
He closed his eyes against those words. “Maybe you’re right.” He cleared his throat. “We should … we should get some sleep.”
He slid his hand out of mine and rolled over with his back to me. I wanted to reach for him, to comfort him in some way. I’d said what I believed, but it had clearly been the wrong thing. Too soon to tell him the truth and not just console him. Even if he deserved to hear it.
Also too soon for him to hear the truth that I’d kept to myself all these years. At least that one stayed locked behind my lips.
8
New York City
October 20, 2014
Derek left Sunday afternoon to be back at work on Monday morning. Ash’s flight wasn’t until Tuesday morning. He hadn’t said another word about Lila since Friday night, when he’d confessed to what had happened with her. But we both knew that he was staying longer so that he didn’t have to return to reality. After what he’d told me, I hardly blamed him.
Before Derek had left, he’d hugged me and whispered, “Take care of him.”
I’d promised that I would.
Not that I knew how to take care of Ash. He’d been drunk day and night since he had gotten here. Maybe he didn’t even remember telling me about Lila.
“You have work today?” Ash asked the first morning we were alone in my apartment.
“No, I took today off too.”
“Really? Why?”
“You’re here,” I said like it was obvious.
“I would have been fine. I could have found a bar,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.
“No day-drinking today,” I told him. “We’re going out.”
He shot me an exasperated look. “I can day-drink if I want.”
“Not today though. Get dressed. I’m showing you around the city.”
I didn’t wait for his response. But when I looked through my closet full of black work attire, I decided against it. I pushed to the back of the closet and pulled on jeans and a pink sweater with fashion sneakers. It was still fashionable, but not on the caliber that I’d been wearing the last couple of years. Camden certainly would have wrinkled his nose at it. But I looked cute and, most importantly, comfortable and in color.
When I came back out, my hair left to curl at the edges with only light makeup, Ash brightened considerably. “There’s the Amelia Ballentine I know.”
I laughed and shoved his shoulder. “Shut up.”
He’d changed into khakis and a blue polo that matched his bright blue eyes. He looked gorgeous, and it took everything in me not to show that on my face.
“So … where are we going?” he asked.
“I told you, I’m showing you my city.”
He just smiled and followed me out of the apartment. We walked to Washington Square Park, grabbing bagels for breakfast from a local food truck. We strolled through the Strand’s eighteen miles of books before heading north toward Union Square. We backtracked through the few blocks that housed The New School, and I showed him the fashion on display outside of Parsons. Then, we took the subway north to Madison Avenue, where we walked the immaculate line of fashion boutiques, which had been my dream for as long as I could remember.
“This is you?” he asked as we stopped in front of the Elizabeth Cunningham entrance.
“This is me.”
A part of me was terrified to be seen in what I was wearing by someone at my job. I was supposed to represent them at all times. But maybe since I was dressed this down, no one would even recognize me.
“Did you design any of these?” he asked, pointing at the clothing in the window.
I shook my head. “I’m not that high up yet. I’m working underneath other designers and helping with strategies. Not quite getting coffee, but just above that.”
He laughed. “I see. Sounds glamorous.”
“It can be, but most of the time, it’s a lot of hard work.”
“But you love it?” he asked as he strolled toward Central Park.
“Most of the time.”
“What about the times that you don’t?”
“Well, it would be nice to be designing my own clothes. I’ve always wanted my own boutique. My own name on a store, you know?”
Ash nodded encouragingly. “You could do that.”
I laughed. “I’m so far from being able to do that. I’m still trying to come up with my own unique brand that would make it worthwhile to branch out. Not to mention, I’d need the capital to start something like that.”
“This feels more like your own unique brand,” he said, gesturing to my clothes.
We wound through the park. The leaves had changed colors, and the oranges, reds, and yellows made the entire park come alive. I loved this time of year right before everything succumbed to winter’s chill.
“Well, Southern doesn’t really work here,” I said with a laugh.
“Then, do it in the South.”
“Maybe one day.”
I couldn’t deny that I’d thought about it. I loved New York. I loved high-end fashion. But I didn’t exactly belong here. Not the way I did back home. I was constantly fighting my instincts and designing clothes I thought New York would like, but not necessarily what I loved.
“Wait … wait right here,” Ash said.
I furrowed my brow at him as he jogged away. We’d just reached Bethesda Fountain, and I stood at the center of it, all alone. A moment later, he was walking back over, holding something behind his back.
“What did you do?” I asked with a laugh.
He held out a red rose. “Your favorite, right?”
I took the rose from his hand in surprise. That he’d bought it for me. That he’d remembered at all. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, they’re my favorite. Classic.”
“I thought so,” he said, and we walked over to the edge of the water.
My heart was still in my throat. It hadn’t been romantic … and yet it was so romantic. It was so Ash. Anyone who had ever let him go was a total idiot.
“So, what do you want to do tonight?” he asked. “No drinking?”
I grinned. “I know this comedy show. I heard it’s amazing. I always want to go, but weekdays are hard.”
“I’m in.”
Neither of us stuck to the no drink rule. I was having too good of a time at the show. I laughed until my cheeks hurt and my belly ached. The female performer was so good that she got a standing ovation from the crowd. There were three performers total, and she was the last. I could see why.
As Ash and I stumbled out of the comedy show late that evening, we were both still cracking up at all the jokes. Recounting the best ones and dissolving into laughter again.
“One more drink?” he asked. “I’m not ready for the night to end.”
And neither was I. I’d never be ready for my time with Ash to end.
“There’s a bunch of bars around here. A martini bar in a hotel. A dive bar that Zoey always recommends. Um …” I said, blanking on what else was nearby. “Or we can grab some wine and drink at my place.”
“You know what? Let’s go for the latter.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah. It’s close, right?”
I nodded, and we headed back toward my place on Cornelia Street. We grabbed two bottles of wine from the liquor store and went upstairs. I tossed Ash the bottle opener as I dug around in my fridge.
“I think there’s still part of that charcuterie board here. Or did y’all destroy it?”
“Um … maybe,” Ash said with a laugh.
“Fuck it. There’s cheese still.”
I grabbed the cubed cheese and brought it out to the living room, kicking off the heels I’d worn to the show. I dropped the cheese onto the table and then opened my old record player. Mom had gotten it for me last year for my birthday, and I’d been collecting records ever since. I set down an old Sinatra record, and “The Way You Look Tonight” filtered out of the player.
“I love this song,” Ash said, popping the cork and pouring us each a glass.
I took the glass and flopped down onto the couch next to him, my mini dress riding up high on my thighs. Ash’s eyes dipped down to my legs and then back up.
“I had a great day,” Ash said.
“Me too.”
“Even though we drank?”
“Well, we didn’t drink until the show.”
“I remember. I had a headache half the day.”
I laughed. “Poor baby.”
He laughed with me. “No, I mean it. This was nice. It was exactly what I needed. Just a day off to not think about anything.”
“I’m glad.”
Ash set his empty wine glass down on the coffee table, stood, and offered me his hand. “Can I have this dance?”
I sipped my wine. “You’re serious? My apartment is too small.”
He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Then, I’ll have to hold you close.”
He set my drink on the table and took my arms in his, and the waltz came back to us as if we’d never lost it. I remembered the exact weight of his arms, as we’d done this dance in front of hundreds of people at my debutante ball. It felt like so much more now. Nothing official about how far we were supposed to be separated, and he pulled me in close enough that our chests were nearly touching. When I looked up at him, I could have stood on tiptoe and met his lips.
I felt dizzy with the alcohol and his nearness as we moved to Sinatra. Everything fell away. The world belonged to us in that moment.
The song came to a crescendo. Ash spun me in a circle once, drew me into his arms, and then dipped me. I laughed softly as my head nearly touched the sofa. My apartment really was tiny. But it didn’t matter because I was in Ash’s arms. And he held me as if I was precious. And I wanted everything with this man. Everything.
Ash looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. He pulled me back to my feet. The music was still playing, but we weren’t moving. He tilted my head up to look at him.
“Please,” I whispered as our bodies touched. The alcohol made me bold enough to ask for what I wanted.
“Amelia,” he groaned.
Then, his lips crashed down onto mine. This was nothing like our first kiss, which had been slow and sensual and built up in my mind as the best kiss of my entire life. But I’d been just eighteen then, and this was something utterly different. This was ecstasy.
Our lips moved together, saying all the things I’d wanted to say for years. Saying everything with that one kiss. That I was his. Utterly and completely. And I didn’t care what happened, but I wanted this tonight. I wanted him. I’d always wanted him.
His other arm snaked around my waist and dragged me hard against him. Our bodies crushed together until there was barely room to breathe.
At the first sweep of his tongue, a moan escaped me. He smiled against my mouth, clearly enjoying how much I was enjoying him. And then he delved in, caressing my tongue with his. Shivers ran down my body and need pulsed through me.
“Oh,” I said as he nipped at my bottom lip.
His hand ran down my side, feeling his way over the curve of my waist before pushing back up until he found my breast. I was still in the skimpy black dress I’d worn to the show. I’d skipped a bra, and he must have noticed. Because he growled deep in the back of his throat as his hand cupped my breast. His fingers flicked against my nipple, making me shudder against him.
He released my mouth, working his way to my ear and then down the column of my throat. I tilted back to give him better access as I gripped on to the front of his button-up. He reached my collarbone, pushed my strap off of my shoulder, and kissed across it.
“Mia, Mia, Mia,” he purred against my skin.
“Yes,” I gasped.
His hands moved to my ass, and then, suddenly, he was hoisting me into the air. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started to walk out of the living room. He toed the door open. He’d slept in here the first night he was here, but he hadn’t been back inside since.
He dropped me onto the bed, covering my body with his and returning those beautiful lips to mine. I hadn’t released him with my legs, and I could feel exactly what our kissing had done to him as well.
I reached a hand between us and brushed against his dick. He groaned deep in the back of his throat as he pushed himself into my hand.
“Amelia,” he groaned.
I gripped him tighter through his pants. Fuck, I wanted him out of these pants. My hands moved to his belt, yanking it free. I popped the button and dragged the zipper down. Then, I pushed my hand into his boxers and slid my hand around the hard length of him.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. His head dipped into my shoulder as I stroked him. “Fucking hell.”
I rolled him over and straddled his hips. I moved my body down the length of him, taking his pants and boxers with me. At the first touch of my mouth to his cock, he moaned. It was the best sound I’d ever heard. I wasn’t ashamed to say that I’d dreamed of doing this. It wasn’t that I loved giving head, but I knew I was good at it. And I wanted Ash to feel good. I wanted him to feel as good as I did, just being around him.
I bobbed up and down on him, running my hand down the shaft until he got longer and harder in my mouth. He was already as big as I’d imagined … all those times I’d seen him in swim trunks at the beach.
I could tell he was getting close by the way he gripped my hair and forced me down harder. He wasn’t going to last another couple minutes as far as I was concerned.
But then, suddenly, he stopped me. “Not ready.”
“What?” I asked in confusion. What guy stopped himself from coming in a girl’s mouth?
He rolled me back over and tugged his button-up over his head before stripping me of my dress. I was in nothing but a thong, which he pulled aside as he slipped a finger inside of me.
I gasped. I was soaking wet. Soaked through my thong wet.
“Oh, that turns you on,” he said before slipping a second finger inside of me.
“You,” I told him. I was seeing stars. “You do.”
“Condom?” he asked.
I pointed to the drawer next to my bed. He removed his fingers, leaving me a panting mess on the bed as he sheathed himself. Then, he maneuvered himself between my legs, lifting one to his hip. The tip of his cock was pressed against my opening. I shifted forward, wanting nothing more than to have him inside of me.
