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Chapter Thirteen
Ashton
When I woke up the next morning, he wasn’t in bed with me. I sat up and looked around for any kind of evidence that he was still here. I sighed and fell back on my pillows. A slight grin formed on my lips as my mind replayed last night. Whatever aggression he felt from the situation with Steve was released with every rough, delicious stroke he put inside of me. I glanced over at the empty space next to me. Just hours ago, our bodies were tangled together after collapsing into a heap after intense sex. I became lost in his hazel eyes as he ran a tender thumb across my cheek. The moonlight streaming through the window had illuminated the worry and frustration scattered over his handsome face, filling me with guilt.
So many things raced through my mind, but one thing stood out the most. O’Shea was fucking sexy when he took charge and defended me. Everything happened so fast; one minute we were dancing and having a good time and the next minute, he was sucker punching Steve. I’d known Steve since we were in high school and never in my life had I heard him use a racial slur or call me a whore. To see how protective O’Shea was over me, I couldn’t help but appreciate him for what he’d done. He could’ve stayed out of it and not done anything, but he stepped in as if I was his woman and defended me. He handled the situation before I could really even react to what Steve had said, ordering Steve to respect the both of us and to not talk to me in the way that he had.
The little rendezvous in the truck was hot as sin, too. I’d never been the spontaneous type, but something about O’Shea brought out my wild side. Pleasing him oddly made me happy. It turned me on to hear his moans of pleasure, watching his muscles flex as he reacted to the pleasure I’d put upon him. I loved when he called me his little sex kitten and how he was as eager to please me as I was to please him. When we held hands on the way home, a warm fuzzy feeling settled around my heart. He’d kissed the back of my hand a few times while driving, sending butterflies in my stomach and making me feel like a shy teenager hanging with her first love. Now that I was starting to get to know this man, his cocky, asshole persona faded and a sweet, protective, sexy, and caring man took his place.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I rolled over and grabbed it, unlocked it, and read the text message.
Ava: Be there in 10!
Shit. It was 12:30 in the afternoon! I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. With a night like the one I had last night, I was surprised I didn’t sleep later.
I sat up in bed and stretched, every muscle in my body sore. Ava’s text message was still open on my phone, reminding me that I needed to get myself together to wash away the evidence of sex. Grabbing my robe, I made my way to the bathroom and took a quick shower.
Just as I rinsed the body wash from my body, someone pounded on my door. I quickly washed off the remaining soap and shut off the water, grabbing a towel. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I said out loud, wrapping myself in the towel and slipping on my robe. Padding to the door, I opened it to find my very tanned friends.
“You guys look very…orange,” I snickered. Alex rolled her eyes and moved past me.
“It was Ava’s idea. I never said the girl was bright,” she said. Ava gave me a small smile and stepped inside. I closed the door behind them and joined them in the living room.
Ava studied me for a few moments, squinting a little. “So what the hell happened last night?” she asked.
I sighed. “A bunch of bullshit, that’s what.”
“I know one minute you and O’Shea were dancing and then the next, Steve was eating O’Shea’s fist,” Alex said.
“Yeah, we were dancing and then Steve came over with his usual bullshit. Trying to rub our breakup in my face and brag about Clarissa being pregnant and everything.” I cringed as those memories filtered through my head. “O’Shea offered to take me to the bar, but then Steve got in his face and called him the N-word twice.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Alex gasped. “Steve didn’t!”
“He did. And called me a whore,” I answered.
Ava looked around. “Where is O’Shea anyway?”
“I think he’s at work already,” I said.
“This is so insane. I didn’t take Steve to be, you know, racist,” Alex said with a sigh. “And I feel so bad for O’Shea. What happened when you guys left?”
I fought the urge to blush. Oh you know…we fucked on the side of the road in his truck and came home and fucked again.
I fiddled with the fringe on the throw pillow. “We just talked about it,” I said. “He knows what happened between Steve and me—”
“Is anything going on between the two of you?” Ava interrupted. I looked up at her with wide eyes.
“What?”
“Like are you two an item or something?”
“Um, no. Why would we be?”
“I don’t know. You two were looking like a couple on the dance floor. Steve seems content as long as you’re miserable over him, but last night, you looked like you’ve moved on to bigger and better things. Probably why he approached you,” she added.
I bit the inside of my cheek. Maybe she was right. Ava, Alex, and I had been there for almost an hour before O’Shea finally showed up. Steve had seen me plenty of times during that period, even standing a few feet away from me as he got another beer, but refused to acknowledge me. The moment O’Shea and I danced together, he finally made it his business to come over and try to embarrass me and disrespect O’Shea. I didn't understand why he’d care. It wasn’t like he wanted me anymore.
Then there was the conversation O’Shea and I had last night in the truck. Neither one of us knew what we were doing, but I knew it felt good; it felt right. He'd admitted that he'd been thinking about what would happen if we became emotionally involved. Seeing this new side of him made me want to open up and get close to him, but it was far too early to know for sure.
