Page 105 of The Love You Fight For
He slides his hand onto my thigh, and I don’t remove it. I will my body to relax, to settle into the Valium. Ashton goes back to his phone, and I replay Lennon’s voice reading meWuthering Heightsfrom last night in my head.
I called her in preparation. I called her because I was scared.
Iamscared.
But I’m going to fucking succeed.
We pull up to the restaurant fifteen minutes later, and like he’sbeen doing recently, Ashton commands me to wait while he gets out and walks around to my door so he can be photographed helping me out.
I’m almost certain he’s been setting up these photoshoots. I can’t imagine anyone would care about what I’m doing enough to have paparazzi on my tail, but it works in my favor anyway. The more attention these days, the better. I hate every minute of it.
Ashton orders my dinner for me as he’s apt to do. I allow myself two sips of the wine, despite the Valium. My nerves have me wanting to down the whole glass, but I don’t. When our dinner comes, Ashton reminds me to only eat half.
The portions here are too large for you. Wouldn’t want all that Pilates to go to waste.
I smile and do as he tells me to, and I decide to eat an entire cheesecake tomorrow.
As he drinks, he gets more handsy, and this time, I let him. I don’t halt his fingers when they slide under the hem of my dress and massage my inner thigh. I don’t turn my head when he leans in to press a kiss to my jaw. With every inch of leeway I give him, he grows bolder. The only thing keeping me from punching him in the nose is the constant reminder that I am in charge. I am in control. My moves are calculated and purposeful, just like my father said they should be.
He’d be so proud.
When dinner is over, after I slide back into Ashton’s car and he is situated beside me, I turn to him.
I smile.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said and what Daddy said.”
He arches a brow, his eyes glassy. When he speaks, his breath smells like bourbon, and I want to vomit. Somehow, the scent is different on his lips than it is on Chris’s. Ashton smells like his father.
“And?”
I shrug and lower my eyes before glancing up at him from my lashes. I act shy. I pretend to be submissive. And he buys it.
He’s a moron.
I’ve spent the last few months degrading him. Insulting him. I’ve even bought shoes just to be taller than him. He’s truly so pompous that he thinks I can be bought. It almost makes me excited for what comes next.
“And, well, you were both right. I’m twenty-six. It’s time I start thinking rationally. Logically. I need to stop being so emotional. Daddy is always right, after all.”
He smiles and nods slowly. He closes the distance and plants a kiss to my lips.
“You should let me come up tonight.” He slides his hand higher on my thigh.
“I was actually hoping we could go to your place.”
Ashton goes still and quiet. I pull back to look at him and his eyes are narrowed at me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, but I put my hand lightly on his and give him a saccharine smile.
“I want you to be comfortable.” I bat my eyelashes and bite my lip like a fucking harlot.
It works. Of course, it does.
“Take us to my place,” he calls to the driver, and then he slides his hand farther up my thigh until he’s probably only an inch or two from my underwear.
I keep my hand atop his, but I don’t stop him. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. Thankfully, his brownstone is closer to the restaurant than my condo, so I’m out of the stifling car before he tries to kiss me again.
With years of fucking men I loathe under my belt, you’d think this would be easier, but I can’t seem to ignore the guilt swirling in my stomach. It’s creeping up my throat. As Ashton unlocks his front door and lets me in, I can taste the bitterness of it.
For a moment, I question myself. For the first time in years, I consider backing out. I find myself wondering if it’s all worth it.
