Look After Us (8 page)

Yep.

I’m still drunk.

I feel myself rouse from my sleep—a hot and sweaty sleep—and I groan as my flickering eyes struggle to adapt to the bright morning sunshine beaming through the curtains. A soft sigh escapes my lips as I stretch my limbs, limbs that feel thoroughly used from the past twenty-four hours of sex and dancing.

A panic suddenly seizes through me when I realize I haven’t been woken up by the alarm clock that is my one year old—who wakes up at six-thirty every morning without fail.

I sit up, my eyes wide as I take in any possible threats or reasons why Lily-Mai hasn’t woken me up yet. Then as my eyes begin to take in my surroundings and the sticky heat begins to register, I quickly remember that we’re in Texas for Ashton’s brother’s wedding, and that Lily is in Los Angeles at Disneyland with her dad and Addison. She’s safe.
Panic aborted.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and flop back onto the bed, allowing my eyes to relax for a brief moment. I let out a small laugh as I feel my racing heart beginning to return to normal.

My eyes soon fly back open again when I become aware of just how fucking hot it is in here. It’s stifling, and judging by the sweat I feel pooling at the centre of my back, it has to be about ninety degrees in here.
Who turned off the air conditioning?

I turn to Ashton only to feel a slight stab of disappointment when I see he isn’t lying beside me. But moments later—before I can even form a frown—he walks in, in only a pair of basketball shorts, holding a glass of orange juice.

“Morning, baby.” He greets me with his usual southern drawl and I smile all dream-like as I take in the incredible deep lines of his smooth torso. My eyes continue down until they meet his shorts that are hung deliciously low on his hips, just below the sexy v-line …

“Enjoying the view?”

My eyes flicker up to his amused ones and I nod my head with a sleepy smile, stretching my body along the sheets. “I love the view.”

“Me too,” he says with a cheeky grin as his eyes trace over every naked inch of my skin, chills erupting along my back as he does so.

Eighteen months ago, after everything I went through; the kidnapping, the rape and the depression, I would have shied away from his wanting eyes and covered myself up immediately, not wanting to bare all to the man I loved everything I thought was tainted. It took me a long time to push past the insecurities of the things my brother did to me, but eventually, after grueling work with therapists and months of battling with my inner demons, I finally found the strength to love my body again. And from that moment on I was able to look at myself in a mirror without being ashamed of my body. It was freeing, both emotionally and physically. In turn, finding my way was the key to finding my way back to Ashton. I was lost for a while but in the end it was Ashton who saved me.

I sit up as he passes me a freshly poured glass of orange juice and two painkillers. “Take these,” he demands before getting back into bed.

I do as he says—even though I’m surprisingly fresh from the amount of alcohol I consumed last night—and I drink the orange juice, quenching my thirst from the dire heat.

“It’s so fricking hot in here, why did you turn the air conditioning off?” I say, feeling another bead of sweat roll down my spine as I drain off my last drop of juice.

“I woke in the night and you were shivering, so I switched it off. I’ll switch it back on.” He takes hold of the remote and switches the portable air conditioning back on, allowing the cool air to slowly begin circulating around the room before he gets back into bed, lying on his back with his head tilted towards me. I gently place the glass onto the bedside table before lying back in bed, unable to take my eyes away from Ashton. It’s impossible not to, he’s just incredibly perfect.

“How do you feel?” he softly asks, bringing my hand into his and pressing his lips gently to my knuckles.

“I feel good. I stopped drinking pretty early on. I don’t know about your mom though. She was pretty worse for wear when we came home last night. We left her passed out on the sofa with a trashcan beside her just in case she hurled. She was so drunk,” I chuckle, remembering the mischief she kept finding herself in. One particular memory I have includes her getting up on the tables with one of Mia’s cousins and dancing to ‘Blurred Lines’ by Robin Thicke. She was wild, that’s for sure.

“She seems okay this morning. She’s downstairs making breakfast.”

My eyes narrow on Ashton, shocked. “Are you serious? She drank enough to float a battleship last night! How is she even walking, let alone making breakfast?”

His laugh fills the room. “What can I say? She’s a college chick at heart.”

“You can say that again. You don’t even want to know the things she did last night.”

“Knowing my mother, I can imagine exactly what she got up to … and as her son, I beg you to never tell me,” he almost pleads with a horrified glare, and I bury my head into his neck with a high-pitched giggle. After a few moments of silence, I position myself on my side with my head resting against his shoulder, his fingertips working through the strands of my hair, causing delightful shivers to tingle across my naked skin.

“So this is your old bedroom, huh?” I ask looking around at the dark blue walls, with band posters adorning the walls and numerous sports trophies lined up along a shelf, detailing his love for football, soccer and basketball.

“It sure is.”

“I wonder how many girls you’ve had up here,” I say with an intrigued smirk before my smile falters at the thought of Riley in here. Just the mere thought makes the orange juice I devoured moments ago begin to regurgitate in my stomach. How I’m jealous of a girl who was in Ashton’s life eighteen years ago is beyond me. But, it’s Riley ... I’ve had a bad taste in my mouth ever since I met her. I managed to put my dislike for her to the back of my mind last night with the help of alcohol, but I still have two days of her presence to put up with. How is it possible to form such dislike for a woman after only a day of knowing her?

“As a matter of fact, you’re the first girl I’ve ever had in here.”

I blink with surprise, pivoting my head to get a better look at him. “Are you kidding me? You’ve never had a girl up here? Not even a girl from college on spring break?” I ask him incredulously. How is that even possible? I’ve seen pictures of him when he was younger. He had
heartbreaker
written all over him. Hell ... he still does.

“Nope, my mom would have shit a brick if I had brought a girl up here. The mom you got to see last night, is different to the mom I had when I was growing up. She had three boys. She had to be strict. And chicks in the bedroom were a no-go.” He smiles fondly, without a trace of bitterness in his voice. Although I can’t imagine sixteen-year-old Ashton would have been happy with such strict rules.

“Not even with the door open?”

“No, not even then. She was still convinced we’d get up to no good, or I’d impregnate a girl. When we used to argue with her, even just to have a girl come over to watch a movie, she used to say, ‘It takes thirty-three seconds to walk from the living room to your bedroom and in those thirty-three seconds
anything
can happen. It only took thirty-three seconds to conceive
you
’. Then with a glare that said ‘do you get where I’m going with this?’ she’d walk away, and well ... that was the end of the conversation. I mean, anything that ends with the visual of your mom and dad doing it, is enough to shut any kid up.”

I giggle into the crux of his neck, loving Alana even more. I would have loved to have a mom like her: one that actually cared. I didn’t have rules to follow or curfews to abide by and when most kids would have loved that freedom, I craved the authority. I needed someone who could have protected me from the creatures that lurked in the dark … creatures that came in the form of my brother.

But that was another lifetime. Now I have a daughter of my own to protect; and I will do it by protecting her the same way Alana protected her boys.

“We might not have done anything under her roof, but her warnings were never a good enough deterrent though. I just got creative … and that’s why I lost my virginity at summer camp. But my mom was wrong though.”

“How so?”

“I lost my virginity expecting it to last a whole thirty-three seconds, but it lasted less than fifteen.”

“Wow,” I choke out with laughter. “You must have rocked that girl’s world.” The moment I say it I have to fight back the jealousy that begins to churn in my stomach again, the orange juice leaving an acidic taste in my mouth when I realize the girl he lost his virginity to is the same girl I’ve taken a dislike to—
Riley.
I mean, he did say he had quite a few firsts with her. But then I quickly push it away again, when I realize I’m being ridiculous for being jealous of a relationship Ashton had when he was fifteen years old. What the hell is wrong with me? Seriously, I need to get a grip of myself. These insecurities seem to be running away with me.

“You jealous of my virtue?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, amused, obviously sensing my burning—extremely irrational—jealousy.

“No ... I just …” My mouth turns up in a smirk when he suddenly has me on my back, crawling over me like a lion on the prowl.

“You just what?” he asks in a seductive drawl that almost makes me lose my train of thought.
Almost.

“I just hate the thought of some other woman’s hands on you.” I smooth my hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscles against my fingers shudder at the sensual contact as I show—in fine detail—whose hands should only be allowed to touch him. Then to add to the touch, I whisper, “My hands should be the only hands to touch you. You’re mine …” The territorial words shock me a little. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt so incredibly protective of someone other than Lily. However, it’s more than a motherly instinct. It’s an irrational, alpha-chick, wanting-to-stake-my-claim type of protectiveness. I’m naturally insecure—I always have been—but this is the first time I’ve ever felt insecure about my relationship with Ashton.

His green eyes darken in an instant, and my legs automatically open up to him, feeling his hardness pressed up against me. “I am, huh?” he questions playfully.

“Uh huh,” I coyly reply with a smile.

“My woman staking claim on what is rightfully hers … that’s hot, baby.” I giggle as his mouth zones in on my neck, sucking against the sweet spot that he knows drives me utterly insane. He pulls away a moment later; the playfulness in his eyes now serious.

“I said this yesterday, and I’ll say this again. You don’t ever need to be jealous. Yes, I’ve been with other women, but their touch has never had the same effect on me like your touch has. Your touch is like lightening, fireworks and electricity all rolled into one. Just one touch from you is enough to set my body alight. No one has ever come close to making me feel like that.
Ever
. Only
you
.” The seriousness fades and is quickly replaced with extreme lust. His eyes never once leave mine as his fingers begin an upward journey along my arms—causing shivers to erupt along my bare skin—until he’s captured my hands within his, locking them above my head.

“How about I show you how much you make me feel?”

A gasp falls from my lips as his erection presses heavily against my bare pussy that is now pooling with desire, no doubt soaking the material of his shorts. I wrap my legs around his waist and grind my hips against his, causing a deep growl to escape his beautiful plump lips—lips I want to utterly devour. “Let’s see if this bad boy can last longer than thirty-three seconds, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows as he lets go of my hands, making me giggle but it turns into a sighed moan the moment the weight of his bare cock presses against me—freed from the restraints of his shorts—before he sinks deep inside of me, proving he can last a hell of a lot longer than thirty-three seconds.

“GOOD MORNING!” ASHTON ANNOUNCES
to everyone with a huge smile splaying across his face as we both enter the kitchen hand in hand.

“Good morning. Did you two sleep okay?” Alana asks while she busies herself making breakfast. The incredible smell of bacon that sizzles in the pan causes my stomach to grumble. I’m a little taken aback seeing her in such a sober state considering how wasted she was last night. I would have sworn she’d wake up with a bitch of a hangover, but with the smile plastered on her face as she hums along to the radio, it’s obvious she’s anything but hungover.