Page 50 of Pulse
Ash’s brow furrowed. “You went back, didn’t you?”
I nodded again.
A low growl rumbled through his chest. He was still pissed that I went in the first place.
“Don’t worry,” I went on. “Dean came and dragged me out of there by the scruff of my neck.”
Ash’s eyes sparked to life. “He fucking what?”
“Settle down Ash. He saved me from myself.”
“I’m so sorry Ren.” His expression began to crumble. “I’m so fucking sorry...”
“It’s done now.” I leaned against his shoulder, the heat from his body radiating like a furnace. “This is me trying to build a bridge.” He shifted, his arm circling around my back. “It needs to be pretty fucking big, so give me a break.”
“You gave up pro…” he muttered into my hair.
“It wasn’t the place for me. My choice had nothing to do with you and this thing between us. It was about me.”
“About fucking time.”
I pulled back and glanced up at him with a frown.
“You sacrifice so much of yourself Ren,” Ash said, his gaze searching mine. “Your mum, Coach, me… It’s about time you did something for you.”
I snorted, placing my hand over his heart, right over the place on his tattoo that said ‘rebirth’. He was much closer than he thought.
“Wanna give training a rest for today?” I asked, not feeling into it anymore.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve got nothing to train for, apart from liking it. Besides, I think we can skip one day.” I leaned against his chest again, tracing his tattoo with a finger.
“What do you want to do?”
“Anything. Nothing. Everything.”
His chest rose and fell with a sigh, taking me along for the ride. “How about more stories?”
“Ash Fuller,” I declared, standing straight again. “Where has all this chattiness come from?”
He shrugged as his lip curling into a lopsided smile. Shit, he was handsome when he did that. Suddenly, taking it slow seemed like a stupid idea, but that was my lady parts talking.
“C’mon.” He took my hand and led me through the house and into the lounge. He wore nothing but his trademark pair of shorts, branded with some athletic company’s logo and me? I wore nothing but a sports bra and short shorts. It seemed kosher in the gym, but elsewhere in the house it felt a little risqué.
Dropping my hand, he flopped down onto the couch and stretched out his long limbs. Staring at his impressive body with all its defined muscle, I couldn’t help old desires reawakening. He really was something to look at. Before he could say anything, I perched beside him, burying my back against his chest. Touching without losing it seemed okay now.
“You’re testing my resolve,” he murmured, his lips against the top of my head.
“Just go with it,” I replied as his arms caged me against his chest. Breathing deeply, I relished his scent, curling my hands around his forearms.
“I can’t believe you gave up pro.”
“Are you still on that?” I asked with a laugh.
“It’s been five minutes since you told me. Gimme a break Spitfire.”
I stiffened against him at the sound of his pet name for me on his lips. It’d probably just slipped out, but it was the first time he’d called me that for a very long time. I couldn’t even remember the last time he said it...
