Burning for You (Blackwater) (14 page)

“I do,” I say softly.  Zane looks
at me and smiles.

“Girl, your name might as well be
Helen of Troy, for all the wars you’re about to start in this house,” he says. 
I can’t help but laugh.  “I’m Zane Martin, Erika’s brother.”

“Leah Holt,” I say.  “But I think
we both already knew that.”

“We did,” he says.  “Listen, don’t
let her ruin your night,” he says to both Ash and me.  “She’s gonna get over
it.  She can’t do anything about it.  I’ll slip her something and she’ll
forget, and maybe charm some other Lavanne brother that’s not spoken for.”

“Just make sure you two don’t go
after the same one,” Ash says, knocking at Zane’s shoulder playfully with his
fist.  Zane laughs.

“Touche, Lavanne,” he says.  “You
two enjoy each other.”

“The same one?” I whisper as we
finally seem to be able to exit the ballroom.  “What the hell?”

“Zane gets around,” Ash explains
with grin. 

Ash’s room is mostly grey.  Once
I’m in there, I forget that I’m in Normandy.  The room is huge, almost like a
generously sized studio apartment, with a sofa and television set, a small
refrigerator with a makeshift bar on top, and an attached bathroom.  Black and
white photographs adorn the walls.  “You could hide out here for a week and
have everything you need,” I tell him.

“Don’t think I haven’t,” he replies,
opening the fridge.  “Do you want a beer?  It’s all I have in terms of soft
liquor.  Or I could have more wine or champagne sent up from downstairs.  Or
something harder?”

“Beer sounds great, actually,” I
say, taking the bottle from him and twisting off the top.  My mind once again
reminds me that I know almost nothing about Ash.  How am I already standing
here in the middle of his room after only speaking with him a few times?  I had
known Michael for years before we’d ever officially dated.  But look at how
well that turned out.  “Seeing you in your own environment tells me a lot more
about you than I already know.”

“I suppose it would,” he says. 
“The house isn’t mine, but this room is.” 

“Did you choose these photos?” I
ask him.  I survey one of a barren tree standing against a bleak horizon. 
“They’re beautiful.”

“I took them,” he says, standing
behind me.  His free hand strokes my bare arm. 

“Took them from where?” I wonder.  He
laughs.  “Oh, you don’t mean you stole them.  You mean you took the picture? 
Like, with a camera?” 

He laughs.  “Of course that’s what
I meant.  Photography is one of my hobbies.”

“Oh yeah?”   I turn to face him,
resting my arms on his shoulders and attempting to lace my fingers behind his
neck.  He’s too tall, and my hands don’t meet.  “What other hobbies do you
have?” 

“You, now that you’re here,” he
replies, grinning. 

I groan and roll my eyes
theatrically.  “That was horribly cheesy.”

“I know,” he says, pulling me close
to him again and kissing me with lips that are cold from the chilled bottle of
beer.  “I feel like I can let my guard down with you.”  He takes his beer and
finishes it in one large swig then sets down the empty bottle on the coffee
table in front of the sofa.  He pulls me down to sit next to him.  “I feel like
a teenager with you,” he says.

“You practically are a teenager
compared to me,” I snort. 

“Not true,” he says.  We are
sitting and facing each other on the sofa and he takes my outside leg and pulls
it around his waist.  He leans back and expertly unhooks my stocking from the
garter belt and pulls the stocking slowly down my leg.  He pulls it off along
with my shoe.  “Your skin is so soft,” he tells me, his hand moving up my leg
and making me shiver from his hands so close to where I want him to touch me. 
He does the same with the other stocking and then pulls my legs around his
waist.  We’re close enough to have our faces are touch.  “Age is all about
attitude.”

“See, the fact that you just pulled
that phrase out means that you’re younger than I am,” I taunt.  “I’m an old
married lady and you’re a kid who doesn’t have a job.  Why am I here?”

“Because you want to be,” he
breathes, catching my lower lip in his teeth with his last word.  I feel the
familiar wash of desire melt through my limbs, pooling toward my center.  He
gently pushes me back against the sofa and covers my body with his own.  I put
my hands on the sides of his face and kiss him back.  My need is obvious by how
forcefully I take his mouth with my tongue.  His mouth opens and I feel his
tongue respond to mine by exploring back into my own mouth.  He breaks the kiss
and I lean back as his lips travel down my chin and onto my neck.  “Sit up,” he
orders me.  I comply and feel him take the hem of my dress in his hands and
pull it up.  My arms raise in the air and I feel like a child as he undresses
me and tosses the dress aside.  He unhooks my garter belt and tosses it aside
onto the coffee table.  I make a motion to begin to take off my mask and his
hands cover mine.  “Let me do it,” he says.  He seems to know exactly how to
remove it, which is good because I would have needed a mirror.  The bobby pins
and mask are placed gently on the table.  He slips his own off and rests it
next to mine, two hollow faces looking back at us side by side.  “I’m taking
you to bed,” he says.  I nod and he scoops me up from the couch, making me yelp
in surprise.  I circle his neck with my arms and he carries me over to the huge
king sized bed and sets me down gently.  “You’re beautiful,” he says, standing
over me.  “I want to see all of you.”  There’s not much left, of course, except
my bra and panties.  “But first I need to catch up.  It’s not fair that you get
to be comfortably naked when I’m still wearing this dumb costume.”

“Next time just specify naked costume
party and we can save a ton of time,” I suggest.

“Good idea,” Ash agrees, unbuttoning
his white shirt.  His chest is perfectly smooth and tight, showing me he’s not
entirely lazy.  Seeing every muscle bunch in his shoulders as he unbuttons his
pants and pulls them down makes the pit of my stomach tighten in anticipation. 
When he’s only in boxer briefs I can see he’s anticipating the moment as much
as I am. 

“Come here,” I say.  “Now I think
we’re caught up to each other.”  He crawls over to me where I wait in the
center of the bed.  We press against each other, the hard maleness of him firm
between my legs and driving me insane.  His hand reaches behind my back to
unclasp my bra and my breasts spill forward once they are free.  Ash
immediately brings his hands up to them, teasing my nipples and making me arch
my back and moan. 

“How did that bra even fit over
these?” he wonders, making me laugh.  “Why do you women torture yourselves with
underwear that looks ridiculously uncomfortable?”

“Because it’s sexier than what
actually fits,” I confess.  He responds by bringing his mouth down and kissing
the rosy end of my breast.  Heat rises to my cheeks from his lips against me. 
His hands graze over my breasts and down to my waist, his lips travelling
simultaneously lower down my stomach to the top of my panties. 

“Can I kiss you everywhere?” he
asks me.  He is poised just at my belly button, his fingers brushing over that
part of me that very much wants to tell him “yes”.  I can feel his breath
through the thin lace.  I nod, unable to speak.  He presses his lips against
me, making me jump.  “Easy,” he purrs, every word and breath coming out of his
mouth driving me insane.  “Just relax.”  I feel him pulling my panties down my
legs and lay back against the pillows as he slips them off.  Ash climbs up the
length of me, lying astride me with his own body.  Somewhere he’s lost his
boxer briefs and I feel his hot maleness pressing between my legs.  Something
snaps, and suddenly I’m gasping and wheezing and fighting for a breath of air. 
“Leah?  Leah!  What’s happening?”

“Inhaler,” I gasp.  “Purse. 
Table.”  He leaps off of me and grabs my gold clutch off of the coffee table
where I left it and finds my inhaler inside.  He rushes over to me, looking
ridiculously long and gangling as he leaps over the sofa and over to the bed.  I
put the inhaler to my lips and puff once, twice, and I feel my airways open and
I can breathe again. 

“Hey,” Ash says, rubbing my arms
comfortingly as he lies to my side.  “What happened?”

“Asthma attack,” I say, putting my
hands over my eyes.  “There’s always a fucking asthma attack, ruining every
good moment of my life.”

“Are you okay?” he asks me.  I nod
and he starts to coax me back into where we were, covering my body with his.  I
begin to stiffen.

“No, actually, I’m not okay,” I
confess.  “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”  I push him to the side and sit up,
covering my face with my hands.

“Leah, what’s wrong?” Ash says,
sitting up next to me.  I feel his hand rubbing my back comfortingly and I choke
back a sob.  “Talk to me,” he says softly.  “Tell me what’s going on.  Leah, I
won’t do anything you don’t want to do, but I was under the impression that
you’re aching for me as badly as I’m aching for you.”

I nod.  “You’re not wrong.  I want
you,” I confess.  “I really do.  But right now I’m going through some shit and
I need to get over it.”

“Well that’s not exactly
descriptive,” he replies.  “Could you be more specific?”

I sigh, flopping myself back
against the pillows and looking up at the ceiling.  “I can’t let you have sex
with me,” I tell him.  “I want to.  I want to desperately, believe me, but I
just can’t.”

“Okay, tell me why you can’t,” he
says.  He rests his head in my lap, cheek settled on my thigh, halfway hanging
off the bed.  I can’t resist running my fingers through the lock of his dark
hair that always seems to be in his face.  “You can talk to me.”

“Something horrible happened to me
before I left Chicago,” I tell him, unable to look at his eyes when the words
leave my mouth.  “And when you’re on top of me like that, it all comes back to
me to the point where I can’t breathe.” 

He turns his head so he is looking
up into my eyes.  His own face is cast in shadows, so different from when he
was seducing me.  “What happened before you left Chicago, Leah?” he asks.  His
words sound clipped and threatening.  I notice his jaw clenching against my leg. 
His eyes, normally so sleepy looking, are narrowed and alarmed.

“It’s what Michael did to me,” I
whisper.  “My ex.  Or rather, what he had done to me.”

“I’m listening Leah, but you have
to keep talking.”

“I need a drink first,” I tell
him.  Ash nods and gets up to walk over to the mini fridge.  “Something
stronger,” I clarify.  He gives me a funny look, but nods again and straightens
up to pour me a drink from his makeshift bar.

“Bourbon,” he says, “is the best
comfort drink there is, I think.”

“I agree,” I say, nodding and
taking the tumbler from him.  “Thank you.”

“Let’s move to the sofa again,” he
tells me.  “If we’re in bed I won’t be able to keep from touching you.”

“You had your hands on me when we
were on the sofa, too,” I claim. 

He grins.  “In case you haven’t
noticed, Leah, I’m six and a half feet tall.  You’re not exactly petite either. 
There’s not much we can accomplish on that sofa together.”

I laugh, feeling the burn of the bourbon
at the back of my throat and crawling up to my nostrils.  “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You make me laugh,” I tell him, “That’s
good.  I need to laugh.  I’ve spent too long not laughing about anything.”

“You mean with your ex?” Ash asks
me.  I nod.  Ash pulls me off the bed and walks me over to the sofa.  We settle
down, naked and entwined with each other, as comfortable as if we’ve been
together for years.  “So tell me what happened?  Why did you marry him?”

I sigh dramatically.  “It was one
of those things that seemed right at the time.  I was young when I met him.  I
started working at Trustwell Care when I was twenty.  He was my supervisor when
I started working as a claims adjuster.  He purposely got me promoted to an
analyst so he could begin dating me, so I would be in a different department. 
At the time I didn’t realize that’s what was happening, but he planned it all
along.  We dated for a few months and moved in together, and then got married a
couple of years later.  We were both superstars at the company, making good
money, kind of like a middle management power couple.”

“How romantic,” Ash says,
smirking.  I shove him playfully away from me.  “So it seemed like a good idea
to marry him because it was convenient?  What about love?  Lust?  Anything?”

“Lust at first,” I say.  “He’s
strong, and I think I was attracted to his strength, stupidly assuming that he
was strong emotionally as well as physically.”  I shake my head.  “You need to
understand that it was just me, my mother and my sister for a few years before
I moved away.  I wasn’t exactly too clear on what a strong male role model
really meant.” 

“But he wasn’t?”  Ash strokes my
hair as I take a large swig from my glass.  “Strong, I mean?”

I shake my head.  “No, he was
pathetic.  It started when I discovered he was cheating with me.  He was
fooling around with some backstabbing skank from billing that was too stupid to
keep anything straight.  She actually got herself fired for not understanding
the difference between a CPT and a HCPCS.”

“I must be the dumbest man alive,”
Ash says.  “Who the heck knows what that even means?”

“If you work in a healthcare
billing environment you would.  That’s like claims 101,” I reply, smirking.  I
tend to forget that claims talk only makes sense to claims people.  “Anyway, he
fucked her maybe a month after we were married.  That’s all – just a month. 
Who knows what he was doing the two years we were together before that.  I
found out through the gossip grapevine and threatened to leave.  I should have
but he stopped me.”