Everything You Need (16 page)

Chapter 17

“How many hours do I have?”

Kris lifted her head. She was posing for Ashton, trying to be a nymph sitting on a rock at the edge of a pond, but she doubted that she succeeded, wrapped in a sheet over her jeans and shirt, while sitting on the stool in front of the couch in Ashton’s studio. He proposed she strip down to her underwear, but she had refused. “What?”

“The time that I paid for?”

“Including today?”

He nodded.

“Seven hours.”

“So little.” A soft sigh escaped from Ashton’s throat as he wiped the brush on a rag, before his focus was back on the canvas.

So much
. She lowered her gaze to her lap and stubbornly held it there while the minutes slowly ticked away. She had planned to bring a book with her,
The Dark Room
by Minette Walters. Yesterday evening she had put it on the cabinet in the anteroom, but then she had forgotten to bring it with her. So she had been trying to ignore his presence for the past hour, trying to be indifferent to him, but it was hard when her whole body was conscious of his presence. It felt as if every hair that covered her body served as a small antenna, following every shift of his body, every gesture and every one of his glances.

“Okay, take five.” He tossed the brush into a jar of water and moved away from the easel.

She stood, rolled her stiff shoulders, and stretched her arms above her head, trying not to look at him, but she peeked at him anyway; she couldn’t help herself.

He strolled toward her and a charming smile lit his face. There was something glittering in his eyes, something that looked like affection. It was fake, the affection, but it seemed so genuine, so real, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have believed in it so easily.

She turned her back to him and walked to the window, fixing her gaze on the tree in the inner yard, hugging herself. She was grateful that he had decided to paint today, because it was easier to be frozen in one position for hours than to bear the touch of his fingers, which always managed to knot her insides into a mixture of raw desire and anger. How could his touch arouse her when she knew very well that he was playing her for a fool, not just her, but Mary too? Actually there was a chance she and Mary weren’t the only ones. But if they weren’t, wouldn’t Mary, with the way she seemed to hover over Ashton, know about that and throw that in her face?

She heard his steps and then felt the warmth of his body against her back and saw his reflection in the window. His hands curled around her shoulders.

She stiffened. “Don’t.”

He leaned over her and his breath caressed the curve of her ear. “Why?”

She closed her eyes for a second, stifling a soft sigh. He was so tempting. “Because.”

“Because of how I acted in the store that time?” His hands withdrew and he shifted away from her. “I’m sorry. I already told you I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then tell me what I did and I will apologize.”

She wished that she could throw at him what she had heard him say to Mary, to let him know that she was aware of his hypocrisy. But then, he could say that he had never promised her anything -- because he hadn’t -- and it would look as though she wanted something more from him, which she didn’t. There was no point in debating what she had seen and how it bothered her. There were only six more hours to pose for him, and then she would never see him again. At that thought, something heavy squeezed her chest and her hand flew to the spot where her heart was. “It’s nothing.”

He had his hands on her shoulders again and he wheeled her around. “Yeah, right. Then why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” She fixed her gaze on his chest. She couldn’t bear to look at his beautiful face and his blue eyes that could lie so well, afraid that if she did, she would break and throw herself around his neck.

“Just tell me what I have to do for you to get over your stupid grudge.”

“I’m not holding a grudge.”

“Then what do you call this?” He waved at her.

She lifted her eyes, frowning. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His lips narrowed and he scowled at her. “This attitude of yours, what do you call it?”

“Professionalism.”

“Professionalism?” A dry chuckle escaped from his throat, before his features sharpened. “I hate it. I hate you being like this.” His eyes darkened. “What does
he
have that I don’t?”

She wiggled out of his grip and moved away from him. She didn’t have to ask who
he
was. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You have been like that since the store.” He stalked after her, maintaining one step of distance between them. A deep crease cut into his forehead. “It’s him, isn’t it? He said something to you. What was it? Did he give you an ultimatum? Did he demand that you stop seeing me?”

Her back bumped against the wall. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do I?” She flattened herself against the white surface.

“Don’t play with me.”

“If anybody is playing here, it’s you.”

“Really?” He set his forearm against her head and the other hand against her hip, trapping her against the wall.

“Stop it.” She shoved him away, glowering at him, while her heart started to hammer inside her chest and heat bloomed in the pit of her stomach.

“Tell me.” His voice softened to a whisper.

“What?”

“Why him? Why not me?”

She sighed, fixing her gaze at the collar of his shirt.

His fingers framed her face and gently tugged it upwards. “Why not me?”

She sighed again. “Because.”

“That’s not an answer.” He smiled, but it looked forced. “I love you.”

“He loves me too,” she lied.

“Not the way I do.” He leaned over her and his lips touched her temple.

She swallowed, hard.

He trailed kisses down her cheek before his mouth followed the line of her jaw.

Her breathing accelerated.

His hand slid over her shoulder then down her arm. He laced his fingers with hers. “Can he make you feel like this?”

“Stop it,” she breathed out, her fingers wrapped around his shoulder; she didn’t know if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer.

“I don’t want to.” His breath tickled the side of her neck.

“You told me...” She arched her neck, giving him more space. “You told me that you wouldn’t do anything that I don’t want to.”

“But you want this.” His mouth slipped to the dip of her collarbone. “You want me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. Yes, she wanted him, badly, and she wanted to indulge herself in him. She wanted it, every bit of pleasure that she could get from him; she wanted to enjoy every bit of joy life bestowed on her, and yet... if she allowed herself to get even closer to him, at the end, when it was time to say goodbye, she might not be able to walk away from him. “Please stop.”

His kissing stopped, but his mouth hovered against her skin.

“Please.”

She felt him tense up. He took a few deep breaths against her neck before his hand released her and he pushed himself away.

Her eyes opened and she wrapped her arms around her middle and stepped aside, watching him lean his arm and his forehead on the wall beside her. “Ashton?”

“It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

He clenched his jaw and with his right hand punched the wall.

She flinched. “Are you crazy?” Her fingers curled around his wrist, as if that would keep him from hitting the wall again, then her eyes lowered to his hand. “You’re bleeding.”

He turned away from her.

“What were you thinking?” She tugged on his arm.

“Nothing.”

“Yes, that’s quite obvious. Come on.” She dragged him toward the bathroom.

“Just leave it.” He gently tried to prise her fingers off.

She refused to release him. “No, I won’t.” She pushed the bathroom door open, pulled him inside and sat him on the toilet. She fixed her gaze on the cabinet beside the sink. “Do you have a first aid kit or something?” She released him.

“There’s one under the sink.” He lifted his hand and observed the damage on his knuckles. “It’s nothing serious.”

She shook her head and opened the cabinet under the sink. There was an open box inside, filled with gauze, medical tape, bandages, saline,... “You have a whole pharmacy here.”

“I’m prone to accidents.”

Over her shoulder she glanced at him. “Yeah, right.” She took the box and set it on the surface of the cabinet beside the sink. She faced him, gently took his hand, and started to clean his wound.

A silence stretched between them, which he broke after a long tense minute. “I wish you would stop pushing me away.”

She put ointment on his knuckles and put some gauze over it. “You told me that you can’t give me anything.”

“I want to try to give you everything.”

She closed her eyes for a moment before she forced herself to lift her head and their gazes met. He looked so sincere. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“We’re not doing anything.”

She took a bandage and wrapped it around his hand. “I can’t do this. Being around you... you’re making it hard for me to be around you.”

“Then don’t be.”

A crease cut into her forehead, she secured the bandage and moved away from him. “I still owe you hours.”

“Why not charge me for the time we slept together?” he said sullenly.

“I’m not that kind of girl,” she said in a soft, even voice. She hid the disappointment and annoyance that must have been visible on her face by occupying herself with putting the things back into the box. She had told him quite clearly at the beginning that he was not paying her for sex.

“I know.” He stood, his fingers rubbing his neck. “I know,” he repeated. “I wish I could say that I’m generous enough that I’ll give you those hours, but I’m not. I only have five hours left to try to change your mind.” His hand curled around hers and he tugged her closer. “Unless you’re willing to give me more hours.”

“You have five and a half hours.” She averted her gaze and wiggled her hand out of his. She had no defence against his words, spoken with just the right kind of expression on his face and with just the right tone in his voice. If she stayed, her resolve to not let him get to her would dissolve under his persuasion. She put the box away.

“Huh?”

“I’m going home.” She went to the studio.

“Why are you being so moody?” He followed close behind her.

“I’m not moody.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Fine, I am, then.”

“Don’t agree with me so easily.”

She wheeled around. “Then what? Argue with you?” Oh, she would have liked to have argued with him; to yell at him, and complain about his insensitivity and his attempts to provoke her, but that wouldn’t have accomplished anything. That wouldn’t have solved anything, because neither of them were being honest; he about his feelings and she about what she knew.

“I don’t want to argue, I want to...” He pinched his eyebrows together. “Go, then. If you want to go, I won’t try to stop you, but before you do, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” She grabbed her bag. When he didn’t answer her right away, she glanced at him over her shoulder.

He picked up his phone that was on the coffee table and started to twirl it between his fingers. A tired sigh escaped him. “It’s about Mary.”

The bag almost slipped out of her fingers, but she tightened her grip on it before it could rattle down to the ground. Was he going to be sincere now? Was he finally going to admit that what he had with Mary was more serious than he had told her?

Another sigh.

She hung the bag over her shoulder and slowly faced him. “What is it?”

He pressed his lips together and a line cut into the space between his eyebrows. His eyes lowered to his phone, he fumbled with it for a few seconds, then showed it to her. The phone displayed a picture of her and George in front of her apartment building.

Why did he have a photo of her? “Did you follow me home?” Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “If I wanted you to know where I live, I would have told you myself.”

“It’s not me. It’s Mary. It seems she followed you to your house.”

“Why would she follow me? -- Of course, she’s jealous and she sees me as a threat.”

“She has nothing to feel threatened about,” Ashton said in a no-nonsense voice.

“Yes.” Kris bent her head and played with the strap of her bag, while tightness clenched her chest, making it hard to breathe. She knew that she couldn’t compete with Mary, not that she wanted to or had any intention of competing with her for Ashton’s attention, but why did his confirmation send a heavy sharpness piercing through her? She had become too attached to him. Being with him had become a roller-coaster ride; one minute she was up and the next down. She had to get away from him. “I have to go.”