Secrets of You (10 page)

“Protect me? How? Why?” She glanced at Ash who had gone pale, gaze fixed on his brother. “I don’t understand.”

“Pete. Don’t.”

“I have to, Ash. She needs to know.” He sucked in a breath. “I threatened to blackball you unless he broke it off.”

She couldn’t breathe. His words suffocated the air in her brain, made the room spin, her heart pound with such force it ached. All this time, the hurt, the anger, the feelings of betrayal and
it
hadn’t been that at all
. Ash had been trying to protect her. She squeezed her eyes shut.
He had not betrayed her.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
He had left to protect her.
Another tear fell, then another. She opened her eyes as the truth whispered to her heart, spread to her soul. Ash watched her, guarded, intense. Uncertain. Arianna brought his hand to her lips, kissed his fingers, and murmured, “You didn’t betray me.”

***

Later, Ash would recall the moment Arianna pushed back her chair, pulled him to his feet, and buried herself against him, hard and tight, tears flowing, body trembling, words spilling over him, capturing them in a cocoon.
You left to protect me. And all this time…I thought…

Caroline had cried. Pete had coughed and sputtered and swiped at his eyes. Ash had almost come undone. He’d made hasty good-byes, forgetting the chateaubriand and most of his manners with a promise to get together another time. Then he’d helped a numb and still crying Arianna to the car and sped to her house, heart and brain close to exploding with sparks of hope. Maybe his brother’s confession would help Pete and Caroline get past this rough spot in their relationship. Ash guessed when you were with somebody that
long, you hit a patch of gravel now and again like he did on his bike. The trick was being aware of it and making the necessary adjustments so you didn’t crash. If you traveled enough roads, sooner or later you were going to face a challenge: road kill, fallen branches, something darting into your path. If you had your eyes open and scanned further ahead than a foot in front of you, you’d see the problem coming. He guessed marriage and relationships were like that. You had to stay alert, focused, and ready to handle the next obstacle coming around the bend.

He’d face a whole damn arsenal of challenges for Arianna because she was worth it
; they were worth it.
Actually, he had an obstacle blocking his path right now—a boulder—and Arianna was the only one who could move it. That boulder was her past and if she didn’t open up to him, it would crush them. Pete hadn’t mentioned the investigator or what the man had uncovered because he knew Ash wanted to hear it from Arianna—that’s when the boulder would crumble and they’d have a shot at a future. But it had better happen soon. For now, he’d take whatever she gave him, scraps of truth, bits of emotion. Anything. He’d been without her too long.

She kept her hand clutched to his knee, alternately sniffing and wiping her nose with a tissue, and didn’t speak until they were inside her condo. Then, it was to repeat what she’d said after Pete’s confession. “You left to protect me.”

Ash framed her face with his hands and said in the gentlest of tones, “I’d do anything for you.”

Another tear slid down her cheek and she swiped at it. “I don’t cry.”

“Oh, since when? That barrel you filled at Pete’s or after you got out of the car?”

She smiled and swiped again. “Actually, not since I was—” she paused, swallowed “—twelve.”

He traced her lips with his finger, kept his voice soft and encouraging. “What happened then?”

“I…” She stiffened and shut down—eyes narrowed, face pinched,
shoulders straight—pulling away, toward a past she did not want to reveal. Her next words proved just that. “I wasn’t a child anymore.”

He could not let it go.
“Really? At twelve? What happened
?” Was that when you knew you were leaving your past and creating a new one?
She looked away and he knew her next words would be a lie. The eyes always told the truth and she didn’t want him to see it or the lack of it.

“My parents died.”

His chest squeezed until it hurt. “Oh.”
Your parents are alive, your dad has a bad heart, your mom arthritis in her neck that keeps her awake at night. And your sister, don’t forget about her. She looks like a washed-out version of you, minus the class and the clothes. “I’m sorry.” Sorry you don’t trust me enough to tell me the real story.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned on tiptoe, and kissed him.
Soft. Sensuous. Alluring. Even with the lies between them, he still wanted her. What did that say about him? That he was a fool? Probably. That she might hurt him again? Possibly. Was he willing to risk it? Absolutely.

Ash deepened the kiss, his tongue probing the sweetness of her mouth. Oh, how he had missed her. He cupped her bottom, settled himself between her legs and groaned. He wanted her now.
Fully, completely, desperately.

She broke the kiss and reached for his belt buckle, worked it open, and managed to release the first button on his jeans.
“Ash.” She kept her eyes on him as she unfastened the rest of the buttons—a tricky job with his erection in the way. “I’ve missed you.” She eased his jeans from his hips, slid her fingers inside his underwear. Touched him. Stroked him. Made him forget to breathe.

“Arianna,” he croaked, pulling her to him as he thrust his tongue deep in her mouth. He began the dizzying task of undressing her—unbuttoning her blouse, working her skirt over her slim hips, unfastening her bra, inching the lacy panties down her legs until she stood before him, pale and nakedly beautiful in nothing but black high heels. She kicked off first one shoe, then the other and reached for his shirt. Ash grew impatient and pulled the shirt over his head, tossed it aside. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed this exact moment?”

“Tell me.” Her smile grew languid and sultry as she worked her gaze along his body, past his stomach, to his hips, and settled on an area of great interest. “Tell me every detail.”

Ash kicked off his jeans and shoes and lifted her in his arms. “I have a much better idea. Why don’t I show you?”

“Yes. Show me.” She sucked on his lower lip, murmured, “Every single detail.”

There wouldn’t be much detail if they didn’t get started in the next five seconds. A man could only wait so long after he’d been given the “go-ahead” following a two-year-plus separation. Ash carried her to the bedroom, tossed back the covers, and eased her onto the bed. They’d spent hours in this room, learning each other’s bodies, sharing dreams, making love until they were spent, sleeping nestled together. He wanted that again—all of it—beginning and ending with making love. “You are so beautiful.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“More than beautiful.” His heart swelled, burst with the longing he’d carried since the day he wrote the note that tore them apart.

“Ash.”
She stroked his jaw, his chin, traced is lips. “Make love to me.”

Those simple words were the headiest aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered—because they were spoken by the woman he loved. Ash covered her body with his, kissed her, stroked her,
made her moan. When the moans turned frantic and breathless, he filled her, brought her to the edge and over in a free-fall of pleasure and passion. He followed, his moans louder, desperate, needy. When he neared his climax, time froze as he teetered on the brink, then split apart and tumbled into oblivion.

After, they lay side by side, her head on his chest, his hand on her thigh. He’d once thought the word
contentment
a mundane excuse for couples who relied on routine as a mainstay. These past few years away from Arianna had taught him that contentment was hard to achieve, harder still, to maintain. At this moment, he was truly content. They’d made love three times, each more intense than the last. She’d given herself to him, freely, openly, completely.

“Ash?”

“Hmm?”
He played with a few strands of her hair, enjoying the silkiness on his fingers.
True contentment…

“I missed that.”

He smiled. She was talking about the sex. He’d missed it, too. A lot. “Good. There’s more where that came from.” Years of it. Decades even.

She kissed his chest, lifted her head, and said, “About what just happened…”
Damn,
she was going to analyze it. When a woman wanted a face-to-face right after making love, it usually meant something was on her mind, and the guy probably didn’t want to hear about it. He could ask, or wait it out; the waiting wouldn’t take long, because when a woman had a bead on something right after sex, it was not going to be stifled. No matter how good the guy was in bed. “There hasn’t been anyone since you.”

Ash’s hand stilled but he kept the faint smile frozen on his face.
Of course. She wanted to play “let’s make a confession in bed.” Well, he didn’t want to play because he couldn’t say the same. Not that he’d cared about any of the other women—he hadn’t. In fact, he’d sought them out as a way to assuage the pain in his soul and the treatment hadn’t worked, no matter the woman, the number of times, or the position. Every encounter left him emptier than the last, until he stopped trying to bury his pain and gave up women. But there was a big gap, actually, a boulder of time when he’d been relentless in his pursuit of pain assuagement. And
that
was not going to make Arianna happy. Hell, it didn’t make him happy and he’d done it. So, how to avoid the unavoidable? Ignorance was always a good start. “I’m glad you told me.”

The blueness in her eyes darkened. “I wanted you to know.”

The frozen smile started to melt, one muscle at a time. “Thank you.”
Damn, damn, damn
. What she meant was, “Your turn.”

Those eyes narrowed on him. “I guess I could say ‘you’re welcome,’ if I were feeling hospitable, which I’m not.” Her voice thinned. “It’s proper etiquette to respond in kind when the other party has divulged information.”

“Oh.” Ash rubbed his jaw and the rest of his smile slipped away. “It’s also proper etiquette not to inquire, especially in our present situation, which is in bed. Naked. Even more so if the aforementioned divulged information has not been requested?”

Those tiny nostrils flared, the lips pinched. Yup, she was ticked. There was no way to win this or even come out ahead. He’d be accused one way or the other; if he said nothing, she’d assume he did the deed. If he confessed, she’d
know
. Ah, hell, something told him she already knew. “Look, Arianna…” He let the sentence drag on, thinking she might let it go…rather,
hoping
she would.

She tilted her head to one side. “Yes?”

He was not getting out of this, not without a thorough interrogation. Ash sighed and plowed forward. “There have been others.” She didn’t move, not even a blink. He ventured on, “But none like you.”

“Of course not.”

Was she playing with him or did she mean it? Men shouldn’t be required to reason after sex. There should be a warning label next to the bed:
Engaging in heavy conversation after sex may cause reduced mental capacity, complications to the relationship, and possible bodily injury.
When he’d had his wisdom teeth out at seventeen, the discharge instructions had specifically said,
Do not sign any documents or make any major decisions
. That sentence should be included on the label at the end of the bed, too.

Why was she staring at him like she wanted to choke the words out of him? She wanted more words? Fine, he’d give her more.
And a touch, too. Ash stroked her arm, worked up his most disarming smile, and said, “There could never be another woman like you.” How true…she was his Heaven…

“Stop it,” she hissed.

And sometimes his Hell
. His hand slipped away. “You asked. And you shouldn’t have.”

“You said you never stopped loving me. How am I supposed to believe that when you couldn’t keep your pants zipped?” She sat up, yanked enough
sheet from him to cover herself, and glared at him.

His brain might be saturated with sex, but he doubted she wanted an answer. She pulled the sheet tighter around her body, which infuriated him. Beds were for sleep and sex, sure as hell not
this. He pushed back. “You’re opting for modesty after what we just did? You’ve got to be kidding.”

The mouth that had given him such pleasure a few hours earlier flattened. “Get out.”

“Arianna. I never thought I’d see you again. I was broken and hurting and doing my damnedest to forget you.” The truth broke out, fell forward in a rush. “You were everywhere. I spotted a red rose and thought of the first time I bought them for you. I smelled lilacs and there you were, smothering me with your scent. Every blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman tormented me. None of them were you, no matter how hard I tried to pretend they were.” He sucked in a breath, willed her to understand. “The more women I was with, the emptier I became”—he paused, made no attempt to hide the pain in his words. “You were in my soul and you weren’t going away, so I stopped fighting it.” His voice dipped. “And I stopped trying to find replacements because there was no replacement.” There. The truth. All of it.