Authors: Liz Madrid
Loving Ashe (21 page)
Hours later, Riley felt lost.
The last few hours had been amazing. She’d seen her favorite band perform and watched Ashe lip-sync the words of her favorite song to her in a way that only happened in music videos and TV specials. She even got to meet the band when a tour member asked them if they’d like to go backstage, and Riley had pictures to prove that it had actually happened, even though the encounter was brief.
Through Ben and Lance’s anecdotes, she got a glimpse of Ashe before fame had touched him, the son of a sheep farmer and a schoolteacher, who enjoyed long walks among the Dales and who preferred life in the Big Apple to Los Angeles, because he could buy authentic shepherd’s pies and Yorkshire loose teas from Myers of Keswick in the West Village. Ashe, who had kissed her in the elevator on their way up to the penthouse suite, and told her she had just made him the happiest man ever because she was right there with him and not halfway around the world. Ashe, who made love to her and made her feel so beautiful.
Riley knew she should be happy, the running-naked-down-the-Boardwalk-screaming-I-just-got-serenaded-by-Ashe-Hunter kind of happy. But if she was happy, then why was she crying?
Why did she feel as if all the good things happening to her were fast approaching their expiration date like everything else had? Why was she so afraid that this moment of lying next to Ashe as he lay sleeping was just another moment in her life that was going to be snatched away from her when she least expected it? Like the way the doctor had told them that her mother would be fine after she and Riley had been rescued from the apartment fire, only to die from a pulmonary embolism two days later. Or her father, after telling her that he didn’t blame her for not being able to help her mother down the stairs during the fire because she was in a wheelchair, spent the rest of Riley’s life blaming her anyway.
How long would she have to enjoy Ashe? How soon would it be before something or someone snatched him away from her? How
could-
“What are you thinking?”
Ashe’s voice broke into the stream of questions running through her mind and Riley turned to look at him, startled. She wondered how long he’d been awake, hoping that the tears that had dried had not left their mark on her face.
“Nothing,” she said.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, tracing circles on her shoulder. “You’ve been crying for fifteen minutes and staring at the ceiling for the last twenty. If we’re going to work, Riley, it takes more than just sex and rock concerts. You can’t bottle things up forever.”
She took a deep breath and let it out again, figuring she might as well tell him. The sooner she knew it would end, the better, then it wouldn’t hurt so much when he did leave her.
“I guess I’m just wondering when this dream’s going to end, when you’re going to stop being my Prince Charming or knight in shining armor and show me your true face,” she told him.
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he answered. “You’re definitely going to be disappointed if you think I’m your Prince Charming or a knight in shining armor, because I’m not. I’m just a man, Riley. Imperfect and human, the same as everyone else.”
“Then how come I don’t see any flaws? You’re too perfect, Ashe. Can you see where I’m coming from? You’re too good to be true.”
Ashe frowned. “Must I have flaws for you to believe I’m real? At least flaws that you must see with your own eyes? Must I fit into this hole that Gareth’s left inside you for you to know that I really am here — because I’m the last person to step into his shadow? And I don’t intend to.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said. She could sense his annoyance and it was intense. Ashe never seemed to do things halfway. Riley could almost guess that he was an all-or-nothing type of man.
“Even if this has nothing to do with Gareth, are flaws the only thing you need to see to convince yourself that I’m real, that I’m really here with you? Isn’t it enough that I’m here with you — really here?”
“Well, of course, you’re here with me-”
“No, I’m not — at least not the Ashe that you think you’re with,” he said, sitting up now, his face seeming cold as he looked at her. “You’re so hung up on Ashe Hunter, the actor, that you can’t see who is really in front of you. And you’re right to wonder when the dream will end. Because Ashe Hunter, the actor, would simply impress the hell out of you for one night, wine and dine you and serenade you. All that before fucking you, too — exactly like I just did — and be gone in the morning, with just a note written on hotel stationary telling you to call his assistant who’ll make sure you get home safe.”
The way he said it made Riley sit up and stare at him, at the way he delivered that last line — so cold, so calculating. So unlike the Ashe she knew.
She didn’t expect the dream to end that soon, she thought as she pulled up the sheet and tucked it under her armpits, covering her breasts. But wasn’t this what she wanted?
“But that’s not the Ashe who’s with you now, Riley,” he said, his voice softening. “Right now, I’m just Asher Sean Hunter, just some Yorkshire lad who parlayed his good looks into a career so that he could pay for his sister’s treatments, who sold his soul to the highest bidder to get where he is now because he realized that he did like being the center of attention after all.
“But if you think that I like the man looking back at me in the mirror each morning knowing all the things that I’ve done to get here, then you’re wrong,” he continued, his voice turning cold again. “How’s that for one flaw, Riley? Do you think I’m proud of the things I’ve done to get where I am now? That’s a second flaw. But do you want to know what my biggest flaw is? It’s that I can’t even convince the woman I love that the man she’s with is the real thing, all because I got so damn good at pretending to be whoever anyone wanted me to be – Prince Charming, knight in shining armor, android with the biggest dick who can fuck on demand.”
She should be scared, Riley thought. But she couldn’t deny the realization that an angry and cold Ashe was a sight to behold, a force to be reckoned with, one that made her belly clench and made her feel like Jell-O as he looked at her. His voice, so low that it almost rumbled from his chest, left her breathless.
“I’m not your Prince Charming, Riley. And I sure as hell am not your knight in shining armor,” he said. “But if there’s one thing that I am, I’m yours.”
And that was it. Riley couldn’t remember exactly what happened next or the order in which it occurred. She only knew that she had stared at him as if she were seeing him for the very first time, until the truth of his words took root deep inside her. Suddenly she was kissing him hard, wanting to take him for her own because he was hers, and the next moment Ashe was holding her down, her wrists held in one hand above her head and his other hand roaming down her body, tugging at her nipple clips. His mouth nipped and sucked and even bit as she cried out — not for him for him to stop but to do more.
She found that Ashe was not a man who submitted to anyone. He was a man who took control, whose anger translated well into domination, someone who loved a challenge when it presented itself, and she loved every minute of it.
She loved having Ashe rule over her, her passion matching his in bed and beyond, even if her life involved coffee grounds and books, and his was camera angles and strobe lights. Somehow, in between they had found a middle ground where everything felt so right.
His hand slipped lower down her body, cupping her mound before slipping his fingers inside her. Then he brought his fingers to her mouth so she could taste herself, before kissing her again.
“You’re wet,” Ashe said, returning his hand between her legs, where she wanted him desperately to fill her with his cock. He dipped one finger, then two, ignoring her protests as he drew them out only to slip them in again, his thumb rubbing against her clit as he watched her writhe beneath him.
She moaned again, not knowing how to phrase exactly what she wanted him to do. She only knew that she wanted more. She wanted all of him.
Ashe still held her wrists above her head with his hand and she didn’t fight him. She didn’t want to. She liked being held down like he was doing. There was something dangerous in Ashe that was maddeningly exciting to her. It lurked beneath the surface, another part of him that she’d never expected to find, one that drove her mad with desire.
“Look at me,” he ordered. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you.” Her answer came out between gasps as he continued teasing her with his fingers, her body writhing beneath him.
“You already have me,” he said. “Now tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want you to make love to me,” she whispered, breathless now as his fingers continued to drive her mad with desire, her hips grinding against him as his mouth found a nipple, tugging the barbell clip between his teeth.
“You can do better than that, Riley,” he murmured. “Say it like you mean it. Say the words you really want to say.”
And then Riley shattered, telling Ashe exactly what he wanted to hear, using words she never thought she’d say, though it excited her to say them. He released her hands and held her against him as she came, the bud between her legs blossoming and taking her over completely. She realized then that what she had thought of as formality, even shyness, was actually strength. Ashe controlled his emotions because he had to, appearing reserved because he chose only a select few to see him at ease, wide open, the way he was now.
When Ashe entered her, he did so with a force that she craved, that gave her a glimpse of something primal in him. It told her he would protect her with all he had if the need arose. Most of all, unnervingly — though eventually liberating – Riley realized just how much she wanted to belong to him, and to be completely his as he claimed her, took her and owned her with his eyes, his mouth, his hands, his soul.
When dawn broke, and light slipped through the gap in the curtains to reveal the marks of his teeth on her skin, Riley traced one on her left breast, still tender beneath her fingers.
They were lying on their sides, her back snuggled against him as they faced the curtained window. His arm was under her head, one hand playing with her hair while the other cupped her hand and together they traced his mark on her breast.
“Did it frighten you, what we did?” he asked, his breath fanning the skin behind her ear.
“No,” she said, feeling him pull her closer. “Is that really part of you, Ashe? Someone dark? Someone who always has to be in control?”
“You were in control, too,” he said. “You could have said no.”
“But I didn’t want to. I loved everything you did,” Riley said in a whisper. “And I want more of it.”
“Then you shall have more,” he teased, kissing her on the nape of the neck. His stubble scratched against her skin and made her giggle though that was soon replaced with a yawn, for Riley was exhausted, her body completely spent.
But Ashe didn’t do it again, not that he had planned to. He did something else instead, something that made Riley smile, for it brought back the Ashe that she first fell in love with. Combined with the part of Ashe that she discovered now, the one with fire behind his eyes, who made love with a dark passion she’d never seen before, one that excited her to no end, it made for a potent combination that she wanted only for her own.
But for now, the fun loving Ashe held her tight and recited a poem by W.H. Auden,
O Tell Me the Truth About Love
, his voice soft against her ear. It was the perfect poem to put an end to all her doubts, one that made her giggle and laugh till she fell asleep snuggled against his chest, dreaming of hungry Alsatians and eiderdown fluff.
But Ashe had followed his lighthearted poem with a promise, too.
I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Riley. Not Gareth, nor Paige. Not anyone.
And long after they both returned to New York that afternoon, flying in the same plane that had brought them to Atlantic City the night before, Riley would never forget how Ashe listened to her as she told him about Paige and Gareth’s betrayal, and how he held her close to him the entire time, the warmth of his body permeating through her, calming the storm within. For there was more to Ashe than just the mind-blowing sex, she thought, or the private jets and front row tickets to sold-out concerts. He gave her space where she could be strong, yet also vulnerable — if only to him — and safe.
That was when Riley decided that, good or bad, it was time to start accepting the past and her lack of ability to change it. Nothing she did now could undo Paige and Gareth’s betrayal. Nothing could rewind the hands of time so that all wrongs could be made right.
The present was all that mattered now. It was only in the present that she had the power to make things happen or not happen, to brood on things or not to think of them, to give others power over herself or take charge of her own destiny. As she lay listening to Ashe breathe softly in the darkness, his breath warming the skin of her neck and ear, acceptance settled upon her like a warm blanket.
As far as Riley could see, what she had now would only be hers for as long as she believed it to be so. Like Ashe.
For just like he said, he was hers.
As long as Riley shut up the
OMG-the-sky-is-falling
part of her, life was grand. For the next two weeks, her and Ashe’s schedules were pretty straightforward. She went to work four days a week while Ashe, if he wasn’t required to fly to LA for meetings, did them over the phone. There were meetings with Ben and Lance over Conley Brennan’s songs whose rights they owned, and then there were his workout sessions at the gym five days a week. Even though he wasn’t scheduled to start shooting his next movie till after the holidays, Ashe still had to keep in shape, no matter how great the temptation to eat whatever he wanted. Just the day before, he’d spent most of the day modeling suits for a men’s magazine cover and editorial and Riley couldn’t help but notice, after seeing the pictures he’d taken of some of the proofs, that Ashe had a hell of a resting bitch face.
“A what?” He had asked, surprised.
“A resting bitch face,” Riley repeated, laughing. “It’s usually the look someone has when they’re just doing random stuff, listening to music, riding the subway, stuff like that, yet their face looks like they’re about to murder someone.”
Ashe looked at her incredulously. “Excuse me, but I do not have a resting bitch face.”
“Oh, yes you do!” She had laughed then, earning her a tickling session that almost made her pee her pants till she begged him to stop and tell him that no, he did not have a resting bitch face after all.
“Do you ever get tired of being sculpted and groomed by others?” She asked him one Saturday afternoon as they sat on a bench at Washington Square Park, listening to someone playing Bach’s “English Piece in A Minor” on his baby grand piano on wheels. With Ashe wearing some type of hat or beanie and dark glasses, it had become one of their favorite things to do during those two weekends after their Atlantic City trip, simply sitting together and people watching. Sometimes people recognized him, but mostly they left Ashe alone, though Riley had gotten used to the sideways glances and the many creative ways they tried to take discreet pictures of Ashe.
“It’s just part of the job. You might say that I’ve gotten used to it since I started modeling so many years ago,” he said.
“And you’re vain,” Riley teased as Ashe nudged her in the ribs playfully.
“There’s that, too,” Ashe smiled sheepishly. “But why do you ask, Riley? Does it bother you to have someone know my body more than you sometimes?”
“Paige once asked me how I’d feel seeing you kiss someone else, or have sex with someone else — on camera, that is,” Riley added. “And she had a point. I don’t know how I’d feel if I saw you kiss someone else. It would feel weird and I wouldn’t know what to think.”
“So it does bother you,” he said.
“It’s just weird. I mean, what if
Sentience
gets a sequel and you and Isobel – well, do stuff together, even if it’s front of the camera-”
“It is just in front of the cameras, Riley, and there’s nothing sexy when it comes to filming a sex scene, not when you’ve got hot lights and twenty people watching the whole thing and making sure that every angle is perfect, the lighting complimentary to the parties concerned,” Ashe said. “You need to separate our life together from what I have to do for work.”
“But I trust you, so it shouldn’t even be a problem.” Riley suddenly felt foolish as Ashe took a deep intake of breath and drew her closer to him. She was jealous, plain and simple. “Anyway, I was just wondering if you ever get tired of it — being groomed constantly for this pictorial or that movie premiere, and having to worry about your weight, your figure, your diet.”
“Sometimes I do mind, especially with the holidays approaching and I can’t wait to eat all the meat pies I can get my hands on,” he said, grinning. “Which reminds me, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? You haven’t mentioned anything about it.”
Riley never mentioned Thanksgiving because she didn’t want to, even though it was something that she knew would come eventually. Come to think of it, Thanksgiving was four days away. It was as if Ashe had waited as long as he could till finally he couldn’t wait any longer. After all, she hadn’t exactly been the best company during the last two weeks, no matter how hard she tried to hide the pain with each phone call or text message that came from Paige and the triplets. There was a reason why she wasn’t the actor making all that money, whose face graced the cover of a major men’s fashion magazine for November, and whose calendar for the coming year was already filled up. Pain was a tough emotion to hide, not when it felt like a hole had been dug into her chest, and it only felt like it were getting bigger and deeper with every reminder that the holidays were fast approaching.
As much as Riley missed her nephews, she couldn’t shake her sister’s betrayal that hurt like nothing else she’d ever felt before. And so she avoided their calls, never answering a single one and hoping that maybe they’d get the message that she wasn’t interested in talking to them. At least not yet.
And they did, eventually. Paige stopped calling ten days later. She stopped sending texts begging Riley to at least see the triplets, even if it was just at the park, and that the nanny, Priscilla, would be with them. But Riley steeled herself from even looking at her phone, choosing to delete the texts before she could even thoroughly read them. She was being a coward, it was true, at least when it came to her nephews, but she also wanted nothing to interfere with the time she was enjoying with Ashe. For the first time in her life, she figured she had every right to be selfish.
If Ashe noticed how she tensed up whenever the messages and calls from Paige and her nephews arrived, he didn’t say anything. Not that he could say anything even if he wanted to, for Riley would simply walk away or put on her earphones, pretending to listen to music. She knew she had to open to Ashe eventually but she was always afraid of seeming weak around him. So she kept her mouth shut.
But with Ashe’s question about Thanksgiving, Riley realized that she’d never missed spending a single Thanksgiving with her sister and her nephews. It had always been with Paige, who always came home even when she was working as a model in Europe that one year and still flew in just for the day to spend Thanksgiving and the holidays with Riley and her father.
“I don’t know,” Riley said, looking straight ahead. A mother and her child had come up to the pianist to slip some money into his jar. “I’ll think of something.”
“Don’t you miss them?” He asked.
“Paige? No!” Riley said though she knew it was a lie. She hadn’t stopped thinking about Paige since it happened, hating that as much as she despised Paige for what she and Gareth had done, she missed them all, especially the triplets. They shouldn’t suffer for what their mother had done, but Riley no longer knew what to do. The messages they left on her voice mail a few days earlier had brought her to tears. Thomas was convinced he’d done something wrong to piss her off and wanted to do to make her change her mind.
“I meant the boys. Don’t you miss them?” He asked, watching her closely. “I don’t think they understand at this point why you’re punishing them, and they shouldn’t be punished for something that they didn’t do. Two weeks isn’t long enough for them to notice that something is wrong, but any longer than that and children usually will start to notice that something is not right.”
“Of course I’m not punishing them,” Riley said, sighing. “In fact, I miss them so much, but I’ve waited so long to tell Paige that I would love to see them — just not with her around — that I don’t know how to go about asking someone else that I’d like to see them.”
“Just call them. I’m sure the boys will be very happy to see you, however you find a way around it,” Ashe said, squeezing her hand. “Still, I’d love for you to join me and the lads for Thanksgiving. Ben and Lindsey host it each year at their place upstate, but this year, it’s at my place. Everyone usually brings something homemade.”
“What do you usually make?” Riley asked, grateful for the change in topic.
“Shepherd’s pies, of course,” Ashe replied, grinning sheepishly. “The way my mum makes them. But you have to make something, too.”
“Espresso?”
“No!” Ashe exclaimed, laughing. “That would be cheating.”
Riley was about to tell him that the only thing she could think of was green bean casserole, the same dish she usually made for Thanksgiving at Paige and Clint’s house, and which also happened to be Gareth’s favorite, when her phone rang. It was Clint. She hesitated at first but when she noticed Ashe watching her, one eyebrow raised, she clicked Answer.
“Riley, it’s been awhile since we’ve seen you,” Clint said, his voice giving her no hint that he was aware of any problems between her and Paige. But of course he would know, Riley thought. Otherwise Clint wouldn’t be so formal. “I was hoping we could talk, if you have some time today.”
“Sure, Clint. Where?” Riley hoped it wouldn’t have to be at their house.
“Well, I know you and Paige aren’t talking, but they’re at a friends’ birthday party all afternoon,” he said. “How about in an hour? I could have Bob pick you up, wherever you are.”
Riley glanced up at Ashe, who had now turned his attention back to the piano player though she knew he could hear her. She wondered if Clint knew the reason why she and Paige weren’t talking. Would she be the one to break it to him that his wife had cheated on him? It was something she and Ashe had discussed a few nights ago, and something he firmly believed was between Clint and Paige.
The admission shouldn’t come from you
, was what Ashe told her.
It should come from Paige.
But what about the fact that she cheated on Clint with Gareth, of all people? My Gareth?
Ashe frowned then.
Is that what this is really all about? Your Gareth? I’m not discounting the pain that you are feeling, but it’s been three years since you and Gareth were together, and you’ve told me again and again that you no longer love him. Unless you still do.
She had stammered then. Of course she didn’t love Gareth anymore. How could she? She loved the man sitting in front of her, the same man who could make her giddy at the sound of his deep voice when he called her name, the man who knew just how to make her feel so beautiful, like she was the only woman in the world for him.
I don’t love him anymore
, she had assured Ashe then.
I just meant that of all the people she could have cheated with, why Gareth, knowing who he’d been all this time. It’s just that I feel like such a fool, them cheating on me like that then, and me never knowing anything about it till it happened again. I’m not perfect, Ashe, I know that. But I feel like I’ve been manipulated all this time with their secrets.
Then just make sure you know why you’re really hurt, Riley
, Ashe told her, his voice softening.
I suspect it’s got more to do with Paige than it does with Gareth, but that’s only me trying to be as positive as I can positively can without being taken for a fool. After all, I’m only human. And if there’s anyone more insecure than anyone out there, it’s an actor like me who thinks that his girlfriend still pines for her ex, who also happens to be a fellow actor.
Ashe had chuckled when he said it, but Riley knew that he was telling her the truth. His good looks, he always told her, weren’t going to last forever. He’d taken her with him for his facials and his massages, as she got hers at the same time just so she could see what he had to go through. He even got waxed, of all things, which surprised her. But at the same time, she figured that at least he wasn’t the only one having to go through all that pain to be hairless where the powers-that-be demanded him to be. Women already went through enough as it was.
“An hour then,” she told Clint, hanging up as Ashe pulled her closer to him and for the next few minutes, they simply listened to the music.
“At least he knows Paige and I aren’t talking,” Riley said. “He wants to see me in an hour.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Ashe asked. “For moral support maybe — not that you need it.”
Riley thought for a moment. “I don’t know. But it would be nice if you were there, at least so I don’t feel alone if there were another bombshell coming. I just feel so alone when I’m faced with things like this.”
“You’re not alone, Riley,” Ashe said, kissing her on the forehead. “Not anymore.”
