Undone, Volume 3

“Yeah, I am. But I’ll take good care of you while we’re here.” He smiled and I felt the start, just the slightest start of something else in me. Something not like a headache or a hangover or storm-induced panic. Something warm in response.

“Are you hungry? I’m not much of a cook but I can boil some mean pasta.”

My stomach rumbled in response. I realized I hadn’t eaten in over

24 hours. It was loud enough that he heard it and, chuckling, he headed into the kitchen.

I sat on the couch. Not only did my legs not exactly feel like standing up, I wasn’t ready to cheerfully pitch in on a romantic cabin dinner together. I still felt so disoriented. Hadn’t I been wanting a break from Ash?

It was still hard to remember much of last night, but I could remember feeling like I needed to get away. Catching glimpses of Ash with all those celebrities. We’d been in the same room and yet I’d felt miles apart. I’d been filled with the conviction that things were wrong between us and couldn’t be set right.

Then he emerged from the kitchen in a T-shirt and jeans, walking toward me in wool socks. It was the socks that did me in. They looked warm and homey and not at all cool. He carried two heaping bowls of pasta, topped with red sauce and parmesan cheese.

“Sorry, I just guessed that you liked sauce and cheese. I should have asked first.”

“Oh, you think? Is asking first a good idea?” I couldn’t help but jab him. You couldn’t just drag a passed-out woman off into a remote cabin in the wilderness. People didn’t do that sort of thing. Even if the cabin was like something out of a home decorating show, with accents of burnished bronze and charming antique snowshoes displayed above the fireplace. What was the ceiling, like 25 feet high? Not that something like that would impress me enough to forget how very wrongly he’d behaved.

I set my mouth into a scowl. But I couldn’t keep it like that, not as I forked a large bite of pasta into my mouth. Spaghetti, al dente. Yes, I was sure the sauce came from a jar but I could tell it was a fancy jar, some kind of gourmet sauce that probably cost over $10 a pop. I couldn’t stop a moan from escaping my mouth as I licked my lips.

“This is good.” I admitted, looking over at him. He was fixated on my lips, right where my tongue had last traveled. Heat flared up in me, but I tamped it down. What had Ash been thinking, kidnapping me like a caveman? He’d practically thrown me over his big, broad shoulder, taking me here alone where he could ravish me all day and all night. Uh oh, there was that flush again. I kept my eyes focused on my pasta and ate a while in silence.

I cleared my plate. “Thank you,” I said, placing it down on a coffee table. “I was starving.”

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, settled next to me on the couch.

I nodded. I was. Still tired, my limbs felt heavy, but the pounding in my head was subsiding. Sitting there by the crackling warmth of the fire, Ash starting to play with a lock of my hair, I had to admit I was feeling all sorts of things. But confused was one of them.

“I’m all mixed up,” I confessed, for lack of a more sophisticated way of saying it. I guessed that was the thing about feeling mixed up, you were too mixed up to express it in a clear, coherent fashion. “I was going to leave today but you kidnapped me. The thing is, Ash, we live in completely different worlds.”

“Not right now we don’t.”

I sighed. “Not right now. But right now isn’t reality.”

“It is right now.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

He smiled slightly and kept right on twirling my hair around his finger, stroking it in the firelight. “I’m sorry you’re feeling mixed up. But I’m not sorry I kidnapped you.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “Do you realize how crazy you sound?”

He nodded. “I feel even crazier.”

Something about the husky note in his voice made me swallow. I felt so aware of his hand in my hair. This man’s physical presence affected me like no other. I’d been practically at death’s door a few hours ago, and here he was, breathing life right back into me with every stroke, every touch. A slight shiver whispered down my spine.

“Cold?” he whispered, drawing closer.

I shook my head no. He knew I wasn’t cold. He knew how he affected me. But I was still angry with him. Or at least I was supposed to be, wasn’t I?

“Want to warm up in a bath?” he whispered. “There’s a huge tub in the master suite. I could work out all of your knots.” He dropped his hand to the nape of my neck and pressed, massaging me right where I realized I did have some sore, aching muscles. A bath would feel like heaven.

He stood up. “Come on.” He extended his hand, his black hair rumpled in an un-styled way I found even more appealing than his usual sexy coif. “Let me make you feel good.”

I knew I should still be stomping my foot, maybe even yelling at him. Last night I’d resolved that I needed some space, and here he’d up and stolen me away. To his remote and fabulous cabin in the midst of the wilderness where no one could find us. It was just the two of us. Hmm.

The slightest smidge of reluctance still slowing my movements, I placed my hand in his.

True to his word, the tub in the master bath was gigantic. Fit for a king, I’d never seen anything like it. He turned on the faucets and steaming water began flowing out, rapidly filling up the basin. Outside, the wind howled and the storm raged, but inside we were safe and warm.

Ash turned to me and slowly unzipped my borrowed hoodie, slipping it down over my shoulders. I was completely bare underneath it. I didn’t remember if I’d taken off my bra from last night or not, but then I stopped wondering as he slipped his hands inside my waistband and pulled down my pants. I stepped out in just my panties and I could tell by the way he looked at me, the way his breathing picked up, he wanted to do more than look. But he held back.

“Turn around,” he instructed me and with gentle hands, he caressed my back, hips. Then he slowly drew my panties down my thighs, down to my ankles.

“Why don’t you slip into the bath?” he suggested, his voice sounding husky. The water was already halfway full, steam rising from the surface. I couldn’t resist. Dipping in one foot, then the other, I sank down into heaven.

“Oh.” I exhaled, eyes closed, my body absolutely crying out for a soak. I ducked under, submerging every inch into the heat, before rising up again with a sigh of pleasure.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Mmmm,” was all I could manage. I might have died and passed into the next world, the feeling was so relaxing, so soothing.

“Here, give me your foot.” Ash reached down and cupped one of my feet in the palm of his hand. I let him move me more than extended my foot to him, and he took my bliss to a whole new level, slowly massaging my foot with his deft fingers.

“Ooh.” I moaned as he pressed his thumbs into the center of my foot. Oh dear Lord, he was so good at touching me, every part of me. How could a woman stay angry at a man who fixed a roaring fire, made her dinner, drew her a bath and then massaged her feet? It was scientifically proven, the level of anger ran inversely proportionate to the level of pleasure. And just then pleasure flooded through me.

He moved to the other foot and I would have promised him anything, mountains of rubies, the Mediterranean Sea, all sorts of things I didn’t have and never would, just to keep him touching me that way. Maybe this whole kidnapping thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Around at the other end of the tub, Ash brought his hands to my wet shoulders. He drew my hair to the side and began to rub my aching muscles. I must have slept in all kinds of funny positions because every muscle in my back and neck cried out for attention. Ash gave it. With magic fingers, he pressed and pulled, kneaded and worked me until I felt so flush and pliant beneath his touch. All of the tensions dissolved straight out of me into the swirling mass of bubbles, and I leaned back into his touch.

“Still mad at me?” he asked in a low voice by my ear.

“I was going to go to New York.” I managed to not entirely cave immediately.

“You can’t go anywhere in this storm.”

“I could have flown out of Vegas.”

“Yes, but I wanted you all to myself.”

Now he started in on my scalp, massaging in some shampoo, working his fingers in circles, stroking my temples. Turned out thinking got even harder when a man did that.

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“You didn’t like that party last night,” he murmured to me. What I’d found so troubling now sounded so soothing coming out of his mouth.

“It’s not my scene.” I pictured all the flash and glam, the showy see-and-be-seen vibe, the frenetic energy of everyone pushing for the spotlight.

“It’s not mine, either. Not anymore.” Ash’s voice felt nearly hypnotic, the light down low, the warm water swirling around my languid limbs. But what did he mean? He was a rock star. He strutted and posed better than anyone I’d ever seen.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who you are,” I confessed, relaxation drawing pure honesty from me.

“Let me show you.”

He took a warm sprayer and rinsed my hair, then brought his hands back down to my shoulders, my back, my chest, rubbing, stroking, caressing, massaging.

“Ana,” he murmured, and his voice sounded so enticing, so deep and sexy I felt a low throb between my thighs. “There’s something I want to talk with you about. But I want you in the right headspace before I do.”

I felt so languid under his hands, so mesmerized by his touch, his nearness. Like he’d cast a spell on me, turning one sort of ache in my body into an entirely new sort. An ache nonetheless, but this ache felt so good.

“Yes, Ash.” I’d talk to him about anything.

“Are you ready to come out of the bath?”

I nodded and he helped me out, then wrapped me in a giant, soft towel. I dried my limbs and then he took it from me, leaving me pink and warm and entirely naked.

“Come with me.” He led me into the master bedroom. Huge and dark, he snapped on a soft lamp on the bedside table. The bed looked enormous, more than a king, with an elaborate headboard and large posts on all four corners. He pushed some of the dozens of pillows to the side, turned down the heavy satin comforter, and welcomed me into soft sheets.

I eased in, the sheets caressing my limbs. Still with his clothes on, he slipped in behind me, spooning my back to his front. With a long, luscious exhale, I sank back into him. I loved his masculine smell, the big, solid feel of him against me, the way we fit together, my ass back into his groin.