Everything You Need (13 page)

She peeked at Ashton, who still stood there, a distance away, glaring at them. Wouldn’t the better question be, how had she managed to make him notice her? But she had already learned the answer to that.

Chapter 14

“Ashton, why are you standing there like a log, and where is the toilet paper? I told you to get it. I promised that young thing that works for you -- you should be ashamed for using her to do your personal bidding -- that I’d stock your studio with the necessities this week, and toilet paper is one of them. And I need to buy it for your apartment, too. There’s none left.”

Ashton blinked. Kris and that George guy had left the yoghurt section a few minutes ago and he was still there, frozen. She was sleeping with George, the guy who lived with her, the guy she might even call her boyfriend. He had thought it was strange that she was so worried about her tenant leaving, and now he knew why. Pain cut into his palms. He winced.

“Ashton! Are you even listening to me?” He turned to his mother, who frowned. “You look so pale.” She touched his cheek, then her gaze lowered to his fisted hands. “What’s wrong?”

With some effort, he uncurled his hands. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s nothing.” He wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulder and turned her around. “What did you want? Toilet paper?”

His mother sighed and, with eyes that sadly observed him, shook her head before she said, “Yes, toilet paper. I’ll get it, while you go find your father. I left him and the cart by the tool aisle. Don’t let him put any tools in the cart, and take out any he’s already put in.”

“Yes, Mother.” He parted ways with her and, looking above the aisles, he searched for the sign that had ‘tools’ written on it. He found it and strode to it. On his way, he glanced down the aisle with canned food and saw that George guy, browsing through the tuna. His step faltered and his hands fisted again. A need rose up, primal and wild; it urged him to march over to the guy and smash his fist into his face, repeatedly. His jaw clenched. But releasing the anger and beating the man would have brought him nothing but trouble, and Kris’s scorn.
Oh, Kris
.

He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his face. Then his eyes snapped open.
Where was she?
He looked around, then when he didn’t find her, he stepped to the next aisle, and then the next. She wasn’t there either. What was he doing? He shook his head, feeling stupid. He had never been a stalker and he didn’t intend to become one now. He sadly smiled to himself and lifted his head and saw her.

She stood in the middle of the aisle, staring at a shelf of rice.

He went to her, he couldn’t help himself, racking his mind for something to say. When he stopped near her, there was only one thing that he wanted to tell her. “I love you,” he whispered so quietly that even he wasn’t able to distinguish the words. He loved her, but he still wasn’t certain if he loved her because of her, or because she reminded him of Kate.

She glanced at him, absently, but then at the sight on him her mouth turned down and she scowled. She took a step backwards.

Don’t go.
“I’m sorry.” His hand went to the back of his neck. “I behaved like an ass.” He had never promised her anything or received any promise from her, and yet, he had behaved as if they were a couple and she owed him fidelity. He hated that she had slept with another man, just the thought of it was like a knife in his gut, but... She wasn’t his. As much as he wanted to possess her, she wasn’t his. “Is he...” His jaw locked and he had to concentrate to relax it. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Who? George? No.”

“So you just...” Sleep with anybody? He shook his head. No! The jealousy bubbling inside him pushed words of accusation onto his tongue and urged him to lash out at her, but Kris wasn’t the kind of person who would sleep with anybody who showed a little interest in her. When they had first met, she had flinched and stiffened every time he touched her, there was no way she would have welcomed the sexual overtures of strangers, like he was fond of doing. “Would you go out to dinner with me tomorrow evening?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and pushed her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. “Why?”

“I would like to take you out on a date.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“We are already sleeping together, isn’t that enough?”

“No.” How could it be enough when he wanted to have her all to himself? And here he was having to share her. No matter, because, since she wasn’t dating her tenant, the relationship she had with him would come to a natural end when he moved out. Only he wanted it to be over now. He wanted it to never have existed at all. He wanted her to be faithful to him, just the way he was to her.

“I can’t give you more than what we already have, I told you so.”

“Because of
him
?”

“Why do you even...” She pressed her fingers against her temple. “Why do you bother, when you’re...”

“When I’m what?”

She sighed. “There’s no need for it; for pretending and --”

“I’m not pretending.” He closed the distance between them and when she shifted backwards, his hands gently curled around her shoulders, stopping her. “Please, go out with me.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head, a scowl on her face.

“Please.”

“I can’t do this right now.” She wiggled out of the hold of his hands.

“Kris.”

“No.” She turned around.

He grabbed her arm. “Please.”

“No.” She hauled her arm out of his grip. “Please, just... not now.”

“When then?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said and then rushed away.

He watched her until she turned the corner, then he slumped against the shelves. He had been avoiding a serious relationship for years, turning his nights into a string of one-night stands, changing his bed partner the same way people changed their underwear. Now, when he was ready to dive into dating, the girl he was interested in, wasn’t sleeping only with him, and she refused all of his attempts to deepen their relationship.
What goes around comes around, huh?

#

Ashton stood by the gallery’s display window and, with a cup of coffee in his hand, he stared at the people outside. His eyes followed a couple who were passing the gallery, their arms looped and their heads close together. He leaned the side of his body against the wall. It was already past three and she should have come, she said she would, but... Was she with
him
?

“Stop scowling and lighten up.” Claudia slapped his shoulder. “You’re scaring the visitors.”

He sighed and pushed himself away from the wall. “I’ll go upstairs, then.”

The bell over the entrance door chimed.

Ashton glanced at it; his mood lightened at the sight of a blond girl and relief slumped his shoulders. He rushed to her side. “Hey,” he greeted her, pushing his free hand into his pocket so he wouldn’t reach for her. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t come.”

“I said that I would.” She glanced past him and smiled and waved at Claudia, then as soon as her gaze returned to him, her mouth narrowed and she walked past him.

He followed her as she climbed the stairs and crossed the hallways. When they were inside his studio, he closed the door and leaned on it, while his eyes observed her. “You look tired.” Even more than usual.

She slipped off her coat and laid it over the back of armchair, then peeled off her gloves. She wasn’t wearing a cap and scarf today. She probably didn’t need it, with the weather improving. “What do you want to do today?”

“Many things.” He pushed himself away from the door, put the cup on the counter and walked over to her.

She rolled her eyes and hugged herself. “What did you plan to do? Sketch or paint? Should I sit or stand?”

“Why are you being so formal?” He brushed his fingers against her temple and buried them in the hair behind her ear, his movement slow and hesitant, half-expecting her to slap his hand away or slip away from his touch.

She sighed and the eyes that lifted up to his looked sad.

Tired and sad, that was how she looked. “Did you have any problems with that guy?” He intentionally left out the guy’s name; he was childish like that.

“He’s not like that.”

He combed his fingers through her hair. “What is he like?”

She stepped away from him.

“What is he like?” He needed to know, he needed to learn who his competition was.

“I’m not going to talk about him with you.” With her arms still around her middle, she walked to the window. “Do you intend to use me as a model or not?” Over her shoulder she glanced at him. “Because if not, I’m going home.”

“To him?”

She shook her head at him before she fixed her eyes at the window.

He strode to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, feeling her stiffen. When was the last time she had slept with
him
? Yesterday? The thought of her with another man was like a never-ending ache. It was something he wanted to push out of his mind, lie to himself that George didn’t exist, but he needed to know, the desire to know burned inside him, but he was too afraid to ask her, too afraid that her answer would be yes. “I was thinking of painting. I should probably bring the easel.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

He lifted his hand and caressed her cheek before he, with a gentle press of his fingertips, turned her head sideways. He leaned over her and pressed his mouth against her forehead first, then against her lips. She tasted so good, always so good, like dreams and hope, like roses and morning spring rain.

She melted against him.

Her moan was caught by his mouth as his hands glided down her back then up her sides, feeling her, touching her... It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. He hooked her legs around his hips and carried her to the couch then sat down with her in his lap.

Her hands slid down his chest and then slipped under his shirt to caress his skin.

Shivers shook his body and he tilted her head and deepened the kiss as he drew her closer. He needed her, she was the air to his lungs and the paint to his brush. With her, he found his passion and colours again, and he had no intention of letting her go.

She broke the kiss, and as her eyelids fluttered open, he dreaded that she would break the embrace of his arms, but she only reclined backwards. She watched him under her eyelashes, her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his jeans.

“You’re so beautiful.” His fingers trailed upwards, he cupped her neck. “So beautiful.”

She pinched her lips together and averted her gaze, while her hand curled around him.

He sucked in air and pushed his hips upwards. He leaned his forehead against hers and his eyes closed as he released himself to the pleasure of her hands. Her fingers were cold and gentle as they trailed the length of him, then softly squeezed him before she started to pump him. He could feel her breath against his mouth. He loved her.
Her
. He might have pulled her into his life because she resembled Kate, but he loved
her
, not the Kate he saw in her, because... When he looked now at her, he didn’t see Kate anymore, but Kris. His eyes snapped open. He rolled them around, so that now it was she who sat on the couch, while he knelt on the ground, his hips framed by her legs.

She frowned.

He smiled down at her; his hands embraced her face and smoothed her frown with a kiss, while his hips rolled into her. “I need you.”

“Yes.” She pushed his shirt up and then over his head, forcing him to break the hold he had on her.

He returned the favour by pushing up her tunic and getting rid of her leggings and panties. Then he leaned into her again, his flesh touched her core.

She gasped.

The feel of her was like addiction, the more he had her, the more he desired her. He needed to be inside her, to move inside her, to feel her walls clenching around him. From the back pocket of his jeans he pulled a condom, put it on and then he was inside her moist warmth. He was finally inside her. He was finally connected with her again. It was bliss and torment.

She wound her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself closer to him.

“You feel so good, always so good.” His breath stirred blond hair against her temple and his knuckles stroked up her cheek before he buried his fingers in her hair. He kissed her again, his tongue gliding into her mouth; he tried to seduce her, to give her the same pleasure she gave him when she held him, when she took him in. He started to move inside her, thrusting into her core. “So good.”

She reciprocated every stroke of his tongue, her hips moving, meeting his.

His fingers combed through her hair and then went down her neck and back. He pushed her deeper into the softness of the couch, his hands moving lower to her legs. He shoved them higher, opening her wider to him, and plunged deeper into her. The strength of his thrusts increased.

The kiss ended and the moans and gasps that spilled out of her throat were music to his ears, drawing him wild, urging him to drive into her faster, harder, while he stared at her face, enchanted. A savage agony filled his chest; it was the need for her, the cruel craving that demanded that he immerse himself in her, bathe in her smell and drown in her taste. He loved her. He wanted to cherish her, to protect her and to tie her to him, to have her forever. “I love you.”