Talon (Ashes & Embers Book 4) (11 page)

I
go
through the next week in a sort of surreal daze. I am now living in a beautiful home my new husband bought for us that cost three hundred thousand dollars. Then he spent another hundred thousand dollars on work-out equipment so he could turn part of the basement into a gym. Sitting in our driveway is his monster truck, and in the three-car garage is a BMW, a brand-new four-wheel-drive BMW SUV he bought for me, and his two motorcycles.

His brothers, cousins, their respective girlfriends, and his parents all helped us move and unpack, and they brought us food and housewarming gifts. Storm and his fiancée, Evie, came over with a U-Haul filled with various sizes of carpeted cat trees and condos, put one in each room of the house for Princess Pixie, then proceeded to check every window screen in the house and the entire basement to make sure there was no way Pixie could accidentally get out of the house. Their care for my little cat meant more to me than I could express to them in words, so I just kept hugging them randomly.

Two weeks ago, I was living in the ghetto, with no car and ten dollars in my bank account. I had no family and only one friend to talk to who actually cared about me.

And now, I'm living a life I used to only dream of.

"I don't like the way that fucktard looks at you," Talon says after his cousin and his friend left. They came by earlier to help move some of our new furniture around.

And then there's this. The man who's given me everything I've ever wanted. The man who I do believe, in his own way, really does care about me, even though he's got a very odd way of showing it. Slowly, we're still trying to figure out how we fit together.

"Next time I see him ogling your ass, I'm gonna throat-punch him," he continues, raiding the refrigerator.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Fucking Finn."

"Lukas's friend?" I pick a few grapes off the fruit basket someone left for us. "He came to help us move. He seems like a nice guy."

He closes the fridge door and moves to stand across from me at the kitchen island. "He's always looking at you like you're lunch, and he's about to have his last meal. He looks at my sister the same way."

I find his jealous and protective streak kind of endearing; at least it shows he cares. Evie warned me that all the guys are fiercely protective of their women like cavemen, and she wasn't wrong.

"Well, it's nice to know there's a guy out there who's attracted to me," I tease, which I probably shouldn't do, but my emotions are still bearing the footprints from where he trampled on them during our first few days together.

He sighs and I can almost see some steam coming out of his ears. "I've apologized for that. I've done everything I can to make it up to you."

Everything except show me you're attracted to me.

Yeah, his sexy, sarcastic, flirty comments are there, and they make me laugh. But other than a few quick and steamy kisses, there's been nothing physical between us.

That's a lie. Every night, there's the foot snuggles. Which I love, and I would completely cry and throw an all-out tantrum over if he stopped, but I'd like a little more of a hint that he actually wants me. I'm not exactly ready to have sex with him yet since we're still in that new phase, but
something
would be nice.

"So, Friday night, we're playing at the grand opening of the Rusty Knife in Boston. It's a short set, like three songs since there are a few other bands playing that night too."

"Oh." I don't remember him mentioning this before.

"There's a VIP party afterward."

"Okay. I take it you're going?"

"We're going, Asia. You and me."

My stomach lurches at the thought of a new club in the city and a VIP party and the noise and social expectations mixed with my shyness. "That's kinda short notice, isn't it?" I ask, knowing nothing about how these things work.

"I've known about it for months."

"Oh." That awkward moment when you've known your husband for less than a month.

He pulls out his wallet and hands me his credit card. "I want you to enjoy it. Get yourself some sexy clothes, or whatever you need to make yourself something if you'd rather do that, and get your hair and nails done. Pamper yourself a little, okay?"

"I don't usually do that sort of thing…"

His hand touches my hair softly. "Ya know what would look hot on you? Have your hair dyed just a little bit darker, almost black, with a dark purple tint in it. It will make your eyes look fucking amazing."

"You think? I've never dyed my hair."

"It will look killer." His eyes stay on me a little longer usual, like he's envisioning what I'm going to look like with darkish purple hair. Having a guy interested in my hair color is definitely a new experience for me.

I shove the credit card into my purse. "I don't really need all that, Talon. No one's going to be looking at me, so it's stupid to waste all that money on hair and nails. Especially when you just bought all this for us."

"
I'm
going to be looking at you. It's a special night. And it'll be our first time going out someplace together. The other girls will probably be there."

"Should I call Evie and ask her what I should wear?"

"Sure. Evie's cool."

I make a note on my calendar app on my phone to call Evie tomorrow to find out what goes on at these types of functions, what I should wear, and ask her where around here I can get my hair done.

"I'm gonna go take a shower before we head to bed. I feel like I have dust all over me from unpacking." He kisses my cheek and disappears upstairs. I stare across the big kitchen and slowly chew a grape, still a little awed that I actually live here. During my last chat with Dr. Hollister, she mentioned now that we have our own home, Talon and I will settle into a routine and I will start to feel like this is home. I really hope she's right, because the six-month deadline feels like it's going to creep up on us fast, and our relationship doesn't seem to be progressing into the
Yes, I want to be with this person forever
stage. At least, not yet.

I check to make sure the doors are locked, turn off the lights, and head up the wide foyer stairway to get ready for bed. Our master suite is huge, with a new king-size bed, a small sitting area off to the right with an electric fireplace built into the wall with stone around it, a dark chocolate leather love seat, and French doors leading out to the balcony. It's the kind of bedroom I've only seen in magazines and I absolutely love it, even though it’s still a little uncomfortable to be sharing a bedroom with a stranger.

From the adjoining bathroom, the shower is still running, the door cracked a few inches with steam drifting out. I poke my head in, thinking I can grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth in the bathroom down the hall since we're not at the point where we share the bathroom at the same time, and I freeze, my eyes locked on the reflection of the glass doors of the shower in the mirror.

I should turn around and get out of the doorway, but I can't. I can't even tear my eyes away, let alone remember how to move my feet. The glass doors are slightly frosted, but I can see his blurred form, the water spraying on him, his head bowed down toward the massive erection jutting out so far from his body that it almost seems impossible to be real, his hand fisting it slowly.

I gulp, completely mesmerized as I watch him stroke his magnificent cock. His hand pumps faster and he leans back against the tile wall, tilting his head back, his mouth slightly open, as a stream of come spurts into the water spray. His hand slows, gliding up and down the long length of his shaft, reveling in his own ecstasy as he moans and then lets out a deep sigh. Gathering my wits, I quickly bolt before he catches me.

Holy everything that is hot and hard.
I've never watched a guy jerk off before. And I'm thinking we need a recount because that looked like way more than eleven inches to me. But damn, that was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed in my life, and it has all my private parts quivering. Not to mention, my panties are soaked and my heart is beating hard and fast in my chest like a bird trying to get out of a cage.

I quickly tiptoe across the bedroom, change into my sleep clothes, and crawl into the bed, not wanting him to know I just watched him pleasure himself. The sound of the water stops, and then I hear the telltale sound of him rubbing the towel over his long, wet hair.

The image of his huge cock, how his hand cupped and traveled the length, is going to be forever embedded into my brain, and my own hand twitches with jealousy.

I wonder if he was thinking about me or some chick with big boobs. The mere thought of him fantasizing about another woman dredges up unexpected feelings of jealousy.

He enters the dim room and halts next to the bed, but I can feel his eyes on me.

Uh-oh.

"Aze?" His voice sounds sexier now that I've seen him in all his massive glory, almost like his cock now has a voice.

"Yeah?" My voice sounds small. And very guilty.

"You're on my side of the bed."

Yikes! In my rush to hide, I climbed in on the wrong side of the bed.

"Oh…" I move over to my side. "Sorry."

Instead of getting into bed, though, he walks around it until he's standing next to my side.

"Don't be sorry." His voice has taken on that teasing tone he has, and I can sense he's up to something, which can't be good. The sound of his Zippo pierces the silence, and he lights a candle on the nightstand. With the amber glow bouncing from the flame next to the bed, I can see he's only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Did you like it?" he asks casually.

I play dumb. "Like what?"

His soft laugh is both sexy and scary. "Asia, don't play games. I promise you I can play way better than you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The towel drops to the floor, and he's standing totally naked next to the bed, not far from my head. And my mouth.
Sweet Jesus.

"Do you wanna touch me?" he asks, his voice low and dripping with sensuality.

Yes! "No."

"You just like to watch, baby? Then I'll give you something to watch. I'll tie your ass to that bed and make you watch me for hours. You'll be begging to touch me by the time I'm done."

"Good," I say. "I hope you get a wrist cramp."

He laughs. "You're such a snarky little thing. It's one of the things I like most about you."

"Unlike my cuteness and flat chest."

"Really?" He groans. "Throwing this in my face again? My body is still covered in those tattoos you hate. Do I keep throwing it in your face?"

"I like your tattoos now," I admit. "Can you please stop being naked?" I can't even think straight with his cock dangling inches from my face.

"Is that really what you want?"

"Yes."

He leans down and blows out the candle, picks up the towel, and goes to his dresser to get a pair of boxers.

"So you like the ink now?" he asks as he slips his shorts on.

"I like it more than I did at first."

He crosses the dark room and climbs into the bed beside me. "Well, I guess that’s a start."

"It is." I wonder if he's mad at me for watching him and for not touching him. "Are you starting to get sick of me?" I ask him.

"Sick of you? We've been together less than a month. If I'm sick of you already, then we're gonna have some serious problems."

"So, is that a no, then?"

"That's a no, then. I'm not sick of you. I wish I understood you, but I'm not sick of you."

"I'm sorry. I know I can be difficult."

He sighs. "It's okay. I'm no walk in the park either. I told you I'd be patient with you, so I'm trying to be."

"Thank you."

We lie in the darkness, listening to each other breathing. This is our third night sleeping in our new house together, and I'm still not quite used to it. It still has that hotel-ish feeling to me.

I wait for his foot to touch mine, like he does every night when he's ready to fall asleep. But he hasn't curled his foot up against mine yet, which means he's still thinking, just like I am.

I turn on my side to face him. Even though the bed is huge, I'm glad that we sleep toward the middle and not at the far edges, away from each other.

"Are you awake?" I whisper.

"No."

"Who were you thinking about?" I know it's not my business, but I can't get this question out of my head now. I know he'll tell me the truth because that's just how he is.

"Who, when?"

"In the shower."

He turns on his side to look at me, and I'm glad the only light in the room is the bluish moonlight seeping through the curtains, preventing him from seeing my expression.

"You want to know who I was thinking about while I was jerking off?" He poses the question softly and seriously, with no trace of his usual teasing or sarcasm.

"Yes."

"And you're sure you really want to know?"

Hello, my name is Asia, and I love to torture myself. I also enjoy probing into other people's sexual fantasies and long walks on the beach.

"Yes," I say with a shaky voice.

"You're not going to like it."

"Okay…" A lump forms in my throat as a visual of him with a lustful blond writhing around seeps into my mind.

"You."

"Me?" I squeak. Did he just say me? As in
me
?

"You."

"Me? Really?"

"Yes. I was test-driving you in my head."

"What?" My voice pitches up. "Test-driving me?"

He laughs and puts his hand on my waist. "Yeah."

"I have no idea what to say."

"Don't you want to know how you were? In my head?"

God, this man is going to drive me up the wall and across the ceiling. He knows exactly how to get under my skin and get me all riled up physically, as well as emotionally.

"Well…yeah. I guess I do," I reply, fluffing my pillow under my head and pretending not to care how my test-drive went.

"You were sheer perfection," he says wistfully. "You know the vanity in the bathroom?"

I nod a little. "Yes. We're not on a first name basis, but we've met."