Page 96 of Wicked Heat

From the silence that hangs between us, I think he’s going to take me up on that, but then he says, “Delia.”

There’s a long pause before he continues. “We dated for a while. She was a sweet girl. A little too quiet and shy, but we had fun, and I even congratulated myself for pulling her a bit out of her shell. I ended up breaking up with her, and it was just your normal breakup. But I guess she snapped. There was a place we used to go. A lookout on some cliffs, and she asked me to meet her there one day. Said she had a present for me.”

He draws a breath, and I reach for his hand. “She told me she was pregnant.” His voice is low. Flat. “Said I needed to take care of her. I told her it wasn’t mine. But she got agitated. So angry. She called me all sorts of names, and I just lost it.”

I swallow. “You pushed her?”

His eyes widen. “God, no. I told her I wasn’t going to be harassed. That I’d had a vasectomy, so I knew it couldn’t be mine.”

“You lied?”

“I told her the truth. I had it done when I turned eighteen. My mother? That horrible aunt I lived with. Not to mention the lies I’d believed about Damien.” He shakes his head. “Not the genetic pool I wanted for my kids.” He brushes his fingers tenderly over my arm. “Problem?”

I meet his eyes, sure he’s teasing. But he’s serious. Something warm and fuzzy flips inside me. “I think that’s great. You can always adopt.” I swallow. “It’s something I’ve thought about, too.” I don’t tell him that I thought about it after Rory. Back when I didn’t think I’d ever want to be with a man again. Or if I did want, that I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I’m handling it just fine with Ash. So far, at least.

“What happened?”

“I left her there.” His voice is flat, and he shuts his eyes. She left a voicemail for a friend. She said the baby was mine. She said I was vile and wouldn’t help her.”

“She jumped?”

“She did. It was a small story at the time. I was racing, so it got some press, but nothing major. Then as I got more well-known, the media dragged it up again and again. But nobody bothered to report that the baby wasn’t mine. Or that she’d been seeing a psychiatrist and had stopped taking her meds. Then the story got told and retold and embellished, and I came out looking about as bad as a man can look.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t try to help her. She was trying to pull me into a problem that wasn’t mine, and I turned away from her. I felt trapped and protected myself instead of trying to help her through it.”

“You couldn’t have known she would jump,” I tell him, a bit awed that even though her lies tarnished his reputation, he still feels more compassion than anger. Especially since I know that once he gained fame racing, there’d been a steady flow of women who’ve monetized dates with him by selling stories to tabloids.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say again. “She was broken. I know a little bit about that.”

His smile is gentle as he twines my fingers with his. “You’re stronger than you think,” he says, then pulls me close for a long, sweet kiss. The kind that makes my head spin and my whole body sigh. I snuggle close. “How can you like me with all my flaws?”

“You see flaws. I see strength. Besides, I could ask you the same question.”

I grin. “What makes you think I like you?”

We share a smile. Then a soft kiss. I’m tired, my body heavy with exhaustion, but Ash has fired my senses. I move closer pressing my breasts against his chest. My eyes looking into his. I feel bold. Sexy.

Reckless.

This is me, but at the same time, it isn’t. It’s need and hunger. Desire and lust.

Mostly, though, it’s trust. “Ash.” His name is a whisper on the air, barely escaping before my mouth closes over his. His arms tighten around me, one hand sliding down to cup my ass and press me closer. He’s already hard, and the pressure of his cock makes me moan against his mouth. Makes me want and need. Makes desire so palpable it’s like hunger, and right then, I am truly starving.

But the only thing I crave is Ash. It’s like he’s a miracle. A man who’s come in and swept my fears away. Since Rory, there’s been no one. I tried twice. Sweet guys. Gentle. But both times I ended up curled up in a ball and begging them to leave.

With Ash, I’ll beg him to stay. He’s like a drug to me. Cutting away my resistance. Making me wild, unabashed.

Hungry.

And every touch, every caress, every hard, deep thrust feeds that hunger until I am sated and satisfied.

Most of all, though, I’m safe in the circle of his arms. Here, my fears can’t even get close.

“I didn’t expect you,” I murmur, already half-asleep.