She paused, her eyes bouncing around the room like she didn’t know what to do with herself. “Are you sure you don’t want my help?”
I had no problem with her helping if it was because she wanted to, but I wouldn’t let her do it because she felt like it was her duty. “Elena, I don’t want you to feel like you need to clean because that’s what you’ve always done.”
Her eyes glistened and she held my gaze for a second before turning to head upstairs. I thought about it for a moment before I placed my hand on her shoulder, the muscles tensing beneath my palm. “I know I said this earlier, but I hope you understand, I don’t want to be like your husband. He has no idea how to treat you and you deserve so much better.”
“I wish I could believe that.” I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply, the hurt in her voice stabbing me through the chest. Spinning her around, I pulled her close until her cheek rested above my heart.
“One of these days, I’ll make you believe it.”
I held her while she cried, and as much as it pained me to hear, the sound making my own eyes burn, I couldn’t help the small part of me that recognized that she was giving this to me. She was beginning to trust me and I needed to be careful. My earlier lust forgotten, my only thought was to comfort her. As her tears dried, she sagged against me and, not thinking, I pressed my lips to the top of her head. She immediately stiffened, as did I.
What the hell am I doing?
Stepping out of my embrace, she wiped at her face and stared at the ground. “I think I should go to bed,” she whispered, her voice rough and thick with emotion.
Before I had a chance to apologize, she spun on her heel and darted up the stairs. “Damn it, Ashton,” I muttered, knowing that move had cost me valuable ground. I took a moment to give myself a mental foot up the ass, then finished cleaning the mess and went to find myself a drink.
For the second night in the row, I sat in my office with a glass of whiskey in my hand. My phone vibrated on the desk. Who the fuck would be bothering me when I’m off? Picking up the phone, I saw a text.
Dad: Box is available next Thursday.
I knew exactly what that meant. Someone owed my dad money instead of me. Usually they borrowed from me, but a few of our old clients preferred dealing directly with Dad. There were guys who knew the deal; willing to hand over the kind of interest Dad liked to charge. Because of that, he was willing to accommodate them, only asking me to collect the payment when he couldn’t be there.
Me: I’d love to see the game. Thanks.
Dad: Why don’t you take Elena?
Dumbest fucking idea ever.
Me: Don’t think she’s really a fan of baseball.
Dad: Maybe you should change her mind?
What the hell was he up to? Deciding to give him a flippant answer, I took a sip of my drink and text back.
Me: We’ll see. Don’t forget to let me know about dinner.
Dad: Next Saturday?
I’d hoped for something earlier, but I knew he was probably working around Aunt Veronica’s schedule. Once she’d come out of her shell and started to go out, she made sure to enjoy all of the things she’d missed out on. Her social calendar was jam-packed now—a stark contrast to when she was married to Dave.
Me: That works.
My mind went back to Elena thoughts running wild through my head: from the look on her face when we arrived at the spa, to her shyness when I asked her to pick the movie. I wondered if she’d always been shy, or if that was something forced upon her by a man who asked her to be something she wasn’t, over and over again. Then I remembered how she looked when she knocked on my office door and my dick was hard in seconds. Shit, the woman was driving me to levels of sexual frustration I hadn’t experienced since my teenage years.
Swallowing the last of my drink, I marched my ass up the stairs. I tried to walk past, honest, but I came to a stop outside her room. There was no light coming from underneath the door. She was probably already asleep. When I found myself starting to wonder what she might have picked out to wear to bed, I knew it was time to get my ass down the hall.
My dick was still hard as steel, but I knew no cold shower in the world was going to help now. I set the temperature to hot and stripped again. If I kept this up, I was going to be the cleanest motherfucker in the state.
I dropped my clothes to the floor, put my glasses in their normal spot on the sink and climbed into the shower, letting the water cover my skin before taking my dick in my hand and giving it a firm stroke.
The pressure in my balls had been building all night. Grabbing the shower gel off the shelf, I poured some into my hand and gave in to temptation. Wrapping my fingers firmly around my cock, I started with long, slow strokes. Flashes of Elena consumed my thoughts, making my hand move faster, my pulls rough as I pictured her on her knees; her doe-eyes staring back at me, watching what her touch did to me.
Imagining her small, delicate hand in place of mine had me gripping the showerhead for support. I took in a deep breath and swore I could smell lavender. I’d never be able to smell that again without thinking of her. My neck bent, my forehead coming forward to rest against the cool tile, the water beating down against the back of my head, my hips surging forward pushing my dick through my fingers faster.
Feeling the telltale sensation prickling at the base of my spine, I couldn’t hold off any longer. After a few more quick thrusts up through my palm I came, grunting my pleasure throughout the bathroom. Feeling drained I collapsed, my body sliding down the shower wall. Boneless and breathless, I wasn’t sure I could move. I’d never come so hard and quickly by my own hand in my life.
For a few minutes I sat there. Not long enough for the water to run cold, but enough time to come to my senses and get my function back. One thing I knew for sure: if this kept up, Elena Tolley was going to be the death of me.
I climbed from the shower and toweled off. Too tired to care, I dropped into bed naked, dreaming of all the things I wanted to do to Elena.
CHAPTER 8
Elena
Almost two weeks had passed since Dominic decided to trade me to pay off his debts. In the beginning I thought it was my job as his wife to do whatever he asked of me, but Ashton made it his mission to convince me otherwise. Each day he showed me something new, something I’d thought was off limits to me because I wasn’t good enough, because I didn’t deserve it. Part of me still wondered if I really did deserve better than Dominic. I certainly wasn’t worthy of a man like Ashton. As much attention as he was showing me, I knew it was because he hated what Dominic had done. Ashton was a man who could get any woman he wanted. I couldn’t get swept away. He didn’t need or want me in the long-term.
That first full night had been awkward. After my two breakdowns, which was completely embarrassing, I never expected him to kiss me on the head. Yes, it might only have been a sign of comfort but then again, I never expected for that one simple kiss to be the catalyst for the rush of feelings that swept through me. It was all so overwhelming. I’d run from the room like an idiot. After that display, there would be no chance of him touching me like that again. Not that I’d thought about a repeat.
Oh, who am I kidding?
Of course I’d thought about a repeat. My mind was littered with thoughts of his lips on mine. Even as a young girl I’d had an active imagination. Could I help that each and every day brought more and more evidence of how incredibly sexy he was?