“Good.”
His mouth is only inches from mine now and I know he’s thinking about kissing me. Hell, I’m thinking about letting him. He’s a nice guy, not to mention smart, talented, and totally hot. Why shouldn’t I let him kiss me? I mean, he doesn’t affect me the way Ash does, but that’s probably a good thing. Less chance of me making a fool of myself.
And yet, I can’t quite bring myself to press my lips against Luc’s. I know he’s waiting for me to make the move—which I appreciate—but I just can’t do it. Not when my whole body is attuned to Ash, my nipples tight and skin hot just because I can feel him looking at me.
I kiss Luc’s cheek instead, a quick brush of my lips against the stubble lining his jaw. His arm squeezes tight around me for a second, then relaxes.
The conversation continues on around me. Talk of cornices and pistes and chutes and any number of other things I’m only a little familiar with. I’ve spent much of the last few days online trying to familiarize myself with snowboarding terms and while I thought I had an okay handle on them, listening to everyone talk makes me realize I really don’t have a clue.
I mean, I know what a cornice is, but I don’t get why the ones here are such a big deal. And I sure as hell don’t get why boarding a trail that warns of imminent avalanches is a good thing. Sure, I understand better than most the adrenaline that comes with cheating death. I’ve done it enough times myself. But still, I don’t understand why anyone would want to deliberately court it. Maybe because, for so long, it’s taken everything I have to fight it …
By the third round of drinks, I really have to pee. After a quick trip to the restroom I glance at the mirror above the sinks, then really wish I hadn’t. I’m a mess. My hair is standing on end, my mascara has pooled under my eyes and I look paler than I have in a long time.
Terrific. I’ve been sitting there the whole time thinking that Ash is watching me and he’s probably just been staring at me in horror. Fan-fucking-tastic.
I do a quick cleanup—a very quick cleanup as there isn’t much I can do with a little water and a paper towel, then head back to the table. I figure I’ll finish my wine and then make excuses to duck out of the dinner plans Z just suggested. I know Ash is going up to get Logan and I’d like to see him, but at the same time, I think it might be time for me to head back to my own room. I’m only about six weeks into remission and my stamina isn’t what it should be. I’m working on building it up, but it’s obviously not there yet. If it was, I wouldn’t currently look like a creature from The Walking Dead.
But when I step out of the bathroom, Ash is there, hands in pockets, shoulders slouched forward as he leans against the wall.
Startled, I give him a quick smile and then start to move past him, but he reaches out and grabs my arm in a gentle hold.
Now the electricity is back, sparks shooting along every nerve ending I have just because of that simple touch. It makes me feel pathetic even as it turns me on.
“What’s up?” I ask, doing everything I can to keep my voice level. Normal.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
He steps forward until he’s only a few inches away from me. I try to pretend like he doesn’t affect me, like I don’t feel the heat radiating off his long, lean body and ache to touch him. It’s hard, though, especially when he tilts his head down and those blue eyes of his seem to stare straight through me.
It’s not fair. After three glasses of wine and a few hits of weed, I’m a little tipsy, a little high. My defenses are down, my knees weak and it puts me at a severe disadvantage, especially considering that Ash is stone-cold sober, having spent the evening drinking nothing stronger than club soda.
He leans even closer, his head lowering until his mouth is only an inch or so from my jaw. I tell myself it’s no big deal, but I can feel his warm breath against my ear and I can’t help but shiver. I sat pressed against Luc and felt nothing, but just a breath from Ash and I’m all but a puddle of goo on the floor. It’s wrong. So wrong.
And still I lean toward him, still I press a hand to his chest—more for balance than because I want to feel the way his heart beats beneath my palm, I assure myself. I don’t believe it, though. How can I when there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his?
At least until he opens his mouth and whispers, “Luc’s in love with Cam, you know.”
Those are pretty much the last seven words I expect to hear in this situation, and it takes me a few seconds to process them. When they finally click in my brain, I drop my hand from his chest. Step back. “Okay. But why are you telling me this?”
“Seriously?” He arches a brow at me. “I saw the way you two were glued together out there and I wanted to make sure you didn’t misunderstand. He’s just using you to make Cam jealous.”
Anger whips through me. I’m not an idiot, after all. I did pick up on the undercurrents that were floating around out there. And what the hell? Does he really think I’m so desperate that I’d confuse flirting with genuine interest? I may be inexperienced, but I’m not totally stupid. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t seem to be working too well. Besides, what do you care if I misunderstand?”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Again. He doesn’t say it, but the word hangs there between us. He doesn’t want to see me get hurt again after I obviously made a total and complete fool of myself in his kitchen. The bastard. I mean, maybe I should feel grateful that he’s looking out for me, but all I really feel is humiliated. Especially with the way my body responds to him every time I’m close to him.
A hot blush creeps up my cheeks, but I will it back. Force it down. No way am I going to give Ash the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s embarrassing me. Just how much he affects me. Not now when he’s pretty much laying out just how unattractive he finds me. Luc couldn’t possibly be interested in kissing me, sleeping with me. No, he’s just using me to make Cam jealous. Even if that’s true, even if he is totally in love with her—which I completely buy after seeing the way he responds to her—is it so hard to imagine that he’d actually find me attractive?
Obviously, for Ash it is, and that just makes me angrier. He’s the most attractive guy I’ve ever met, the most attractive guy on the planet to me, probably, and he thinks I’m pathetic, unattractive. Not sexy at all.
The knowledge makes my blood boil, but I force myself to smile at him. To thank him for the warning. I even manage to keep my tone chill and my eyes steady as I do it.
I step around him, then head back out to the patio with every intention of excusing myself to go back up to my room. But with every step I take, I feel Ash right behind me, breathing down my neck. My anger multiplies until I’m fuming, so heated up that I’m sure I’d melt even the coldest snow around here if I came in contact with it. Which is why, when Luc smiles at me and holds a hand out to me, I don’t do what I planned.
I don’t make excuses.