Page 52 of Give Me Strength

Is she jealous?

The adorable pink flush that crawls up her chest, coats her arms and cheeks, and fills her face confirms that. Her gaze falls to my lips before trailing further down, slowly, sensually, as if seeing me for the first time in the context of the five-letter word.

Fuck.

I’m seeing me for the first time, too, in the context of the word, and my cock twitches in response. A charged silence settles between us as Ashlynn takes her time studying me. It’s so tortuously slow, making my skin flare with heat. Other parts of me do, too, but I keep my expression schooled and my gaze on her.

Her eyes make their way back up slowly, and those big doe eyes, now clouded with undisguised lust, meet mine. She swallows, then licks her lips, and all sorts of things I shouldn’t think about find their way into my head.

The head on my shoulders, that is.

Things Bonnie will have to make good on, particularly her not-so-thinly veiled threats to relieve me of the family jewels. Still, the image forms and takes root, making it damn near impossible to shake. My throat shifts, and I’m pretty sure the sound of my heart thumping in my chest is loud enough for her to hear.

So while my dick says go full steam ahead, my head says pump the brakes for tonight.

Option two wins out.

I shift in my seat, discretely adjusting myself.

“So. Paris?” I ask, forcing my lips not to twitch as I change the subject.

She gives me an I know what you’re doing look, but the relief on her countenance is palpable.

“It’s been my dream to visit someday.” The rosy hue of her cheeks lingers as she delves into it, her eyes lighting up as she speaks. “The ballet culture there is amazing. And the food, the art — it’s all so inspiring. Wyn grew up there, and her late stepdad’s family has tried every trick to entice her to visit…”

She rarely gets this excited about something other than ballet, and I can’t look away. It’s pointless denying it any longer — I don’t just want her; I need her. But before crossing that line, I must be open and honest with Ashlynn first. I need to tell her the truth about Rachel and I.

Seems silly, hanging on to the ghosts of our shared pasts, but I know it would be worse if she heard it from anyone else. It’s the kind of thing that could make or break this, whatever this is, but I can’t afford to break it. I can’t afford to lose her.

When her phone rings — I know it’s one of Bonnie’s impromptu check-ins from the ringtone — she hops off her stool, plants a chaste kiss on my cheek, and disappears to her room. Her old room, not the one next to mine.

That’s how I know.

I have it bad.

PART 2

24

ASHLYNN

I come home after a long day of rehearsals, my muscles aching but my heart light. Other parts of me, not so much. It’s been five days since the Daddy incident — aka five days of torture, except it feels more like an eternity.

I like Gilbert. I like him a lot, and I know he likes me too.

When I made the Daddy comment a few days ago, he practically devoured me with his eyes, then changed the subject. I was relieved, sure, but I was also frustrated by it, and by him, in entirely different ways.

Do I want a Daddy?

No, I don’t.

Heck, I didn’t even want a guardian.

But I want Gilbert. Bad. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone else in my entire life.

Then again, we’ve been doing this dance for months — if I can even call it that — and it is oh-so-frustrating!

How do I show him that I like him, that I want him? That I ache for him?

---