The two of us share a precious memory that I only wanted to have with him. The moment he took my virginity, it connected us, and gave us our own special link that no one else could have. It was a Josh and Ashlyn thing. Josh had the ability to turn me into a mass of girliness at the best of times. His cheekiness would make me fall into a craze of giggles, but he also had the ability to piss me off like no one’s business.
The thought of him, of what we shared, had gotten me through of some of the toughest times. It was during our few hours together that he gave me something I’d wanted my whole life. He gave me every bit of his attention, and made me feel like I was worth something, like I was everything. I knew people had paid attention to me before, but it was superficial because of my family.
There was something different about Josh Crawford’s attention. It made me feel like the world was spinning out of control around us, but all he focused on was me. It was the gleam in his eyes when he stared at me as I spoke that made me feel as if there was nothing else on his mind but me. He remembered everything, he digested everything I said, and could read me like an open book. No one could do that but him
That was Josh Crawford.
And that was why, after all these years, I still craved him. I still imagined him as the guy I met in college, but I knew that guy was gone. Now he was living the life of a forever bachelor—a commitment-phobe who was notorious for his one-night stands.
I was just the girl he had a one-night stand with, whose cherry he popped, and now I had a bruised heart and broken dreams of a happily-ever-after.
Fuck my life.
THE LONGER I REMAINED conscious, the worse I started to feel. My body ached, I felt dirty, and the usual feeling of satisfaction was nowhere to be found. I headed down the hall in a daze, and fatigue followed me as I stepped into my bathroom. The smell of cheap sex lingered on my skin and had ingrained itself in the fibers of my shirt and pants, and I was desperate to erase it all. I peeled my clothes from my body, stepped under a scolding-hot shower, and begged for my Friday-night escapade to disappear down the drain. This was my routine: random fucking, getting home as the sun rose, washing the womanly scent from my body, and crawling into bed. I never claimed to be a saint; I was a sinner, and everybody knew it.
Once I was satisfied that I was free of the night before, I stepped out of the shower, dried my body, and pulled on some sweats. My bed looked like heaven, and the second I collapsed onto the expensive mattress I felt an unbinding relief hit me. I placed my arm over my eyes, and soon sleep put a stop to my scrambled mind.
I sensed myself being drawn away from the depths of my slumber, but in my sleepy haze I felt the comforter lift from my warm body and a blast of chilled air hit my naked chest. My body was still being swallowed by fatigue, so I knew I hadn’t been sleeping long. The familiar scent of sweet spring flowers with a hint of vanilla hit me like a freight train, and I knew I had to be dreaming. It was a unique scent; one that had driven me crazy for years. Was this what karma felt like? Taunting me with my favorite smell in the world while the owner of the scent was nowhere near me?
The familiar scent belonged to Ashlyn, the one woman that could bring me to my knees with her wicked tongue and no-bullshit attitude. The same Ashlyn that wasn’t due back in the states for another two days, and was as far away from me as humanly possible.
I pried open my tired eyes as the scent grew stronger and swirled around my bedroom. This had to be some kind of fucked-up dream, because there was no way blond hair was splayed across my chest. My body stiffened and my heart thundered to life as soft warmth curled up beside me. I shifted my head slightly, and looked down as an arm hesitated briefly before it rested on my stomach.
“Ashy?” I questioned through a thick, sleepy voice.
Her grasp tightened at the sound of the nickname I‘d been calling her since the first night we met; a nickname that she allowed only me to get away with. I didn’t think it could be possible, but she squeezed her body closer to mine, and soon our legs were a tangled mess.
“Ashy, what are you doing here?”
Her silence was deafening. As she nuzzled her face closer to my chest, I felt her ragged breathing caress the skin just over my heart. Reactions don’t lie; I knew she heard me. The longer the silence churned around us, the more the tension grew, to the point of suffocation. I was confused as to why she was here, yet I was determined to find out what the fuck was going on.
“No questions, Josh,” she whispered after what seemed a lifetime. “Please just let me sleep in here.”
“Look at me, Ashy,” I demanded in a tone that showed I was now fully alert.
Ashlyn shook her head in defiance, and it became apparent that she was hiding something. I shifted my body until I was on my side and facing her. Finally, I could see her face, and what I saw angered me. Her spark, the famous Ashlyn Hart spark, had been snuffed out. She looked tired, drawn, and like she was battling something that was destroying her from the inside out and causing her to retreat into herself. I had seen this look before. I witnessed what heartbreak looked like on Ashlyn, and now, as she lay in my bed, it was rolling off of her in waves.
“At least tell me if you’re okay,” I whispered and reached out to grab her hands.
Her eyes finally found mine and, if it was possible to experience someone else’s pain, I was feeling it right now.
“I’m perfect,” she said, and offered me the weakest of smiles. Without another word, she rolled over so her back was to my chest. She lifted my arm and tucked it under hers, and pulled my body toward her until we molded together. Within minutes, her grip on my arm loosened, her breathing leveled out and she had succumbed to sleep.
This wasn’t the first time Ashlyn crawled into my bed. The last time was when Lachlan broke her heart and I had been staying with Ky. It shocked me then, and it shocked me now. The memory of her crying in my arms all those years ago caused me to grip her tighter. If he had hurt her again, I swear to god, he had it coming. No one would get away with hurting Ashlyn, I didn’t care who the fuck it was.
All I knew was that she was far from feeling “perfect.”
Five hours later, I woke to the faintest evidence that Ashlyn had been in my bed. Her perfume still teased the air, and the space beside me had the warmth of a body that very recently occupied it. My bedroom was silent and emptiness taunted every corner, but my head was raging with a tumultuous battle.
What was she doing back and, more importantly, why hadn’t she told anyone?
I threw back my comforter and hissed as the cold air hit my warm skin. I was desperate for answers, and I knew the one person who would be able to answer any questions I had regarding Ashlyn Hart.
Ky.
The early afternoon sun was in fierce competition with the ominous clouds rolling in as I stepped into my living room and searched for my phone. I swear I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached. My brain screamed with scenarios as to why Ashlyn was back, and why she had crawled into my bed. The common denominator of every thought was Lachlan Johnson.
Where the fuck was my phone? I searched the coffee table, then the table by the entry, and I finally found it wedged between the cushions of the couch. I paced my living room as I pressed Ky’s name and listened to the ring tone.
“Did you know Ash was back?” I shot into the phone as soon as he answered after three rings.