Down to Ash (#Dirtysexygeeks Book 2) (9 page)

They were back in that shitty cycle. It was okay. She would follow his lead. To the ends of the fucking earth.

He turned, and then bent to inspect something beneath her desk. She would have been much better off if he didn't have such a great ass. But, she remained committed to doing damage control.

“How long is this whole process going to take?” she asked.

“There are twenty or so people in the company, so I'd estimate a week just to get everyone on the same page. When Marie gets back, her job should be easy.”

“Six weeks, since we don't pay for maternity leave.” Ash said it in a mutter because he was bending beneath her desk, checking the extension cords, and her thoughts had shifted to other important things.

Had she left scratch marks? She remembered having clawed at him at one point. The combination of good genetics and working out had left him with a nice, firm ass. Recalling those heady moments washed away the bitter thoughts.

She tilted her head.

He chose that moment to look back. Ash smiled at him sweetly, as though she hadn't been checking him out.

He narrowed his eyes and rose. “I'm going to put in new extension cords, too.”

His powers to ignore were applaudable. Her stomach ached from trying to hold in everything she was feeling.

“It all sounds good.” She hesitated, wanting to prolong the conversation if only for a second. “Alliance or Horde on WoW?”

“Both.”

She wanted to ask more, wanted to talk to him, and recap their weekend, at the very least.
Wasn't that one moment great? And then that one? I know. We suck balls but wasn't it great?
She dug her fingers into the chair's armrests to keep from doing just that.

He clenched his jaw as though he knew she was about to fuck things up again. “Ash,” he barked.

She lifted her chin. “Yes?”

“Good,” he said. “Keep your shit together.”

How in the hell did he know she was struggling? “Don't talk to me like I'm a new recruit.”

His stare skimmed over her breasts before he looked away. “Never my thing.”

Ash knew he'd been an explosive ordinance disposal tech. Grady had slipped up one day and told her. That was why she'd written to Victor as often as she could. That was why it hurt so much to see the tattoo with his name, Social Security number, and birthdate. He'd gone out every day during his service likely with the small prayer that, no matter what happened, his torso would remain intact. His family and loved ones wouldn't have
to wait weeks for DNA tests to verify his death.

She choked back the unexpected swell of emotion. “What was your thing, again?”

That shut him up, because he never talked to her about the six years he'd been gone. He'd written her and asked her about little, everyday shit. He seemed to crave those details and she'd obliged him. He'd told her funny stories, but would never write a word about how he really felt, or about what was really going on.

What little she knew, she'd picked up from the guys. Yet the news had always been the worst. They talked about IEDs, bomb squads, and soldiers coming home broken or in pieces.
So, yeah, her brother wasn't the only one who'd thought she was too delicate to handle the hard truths. Most days, she hadn't thought disabusing them of the notion was worth the headache.

So, again, she smiled at him all sugar and spice, knowing her facial tick would dig deep under his skin. That was only fair since he did the same just with a hard jawline and an unreadable gaze.

He moved forward then leaned down, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. “You know my thing.” His eyes had turned opaque.

She knew that change in his eye color. Had craved it when he'd been in her bed because the subtle change meant more sex, more him. He so wasn't talking about the Army.

“Really? I know your thing?” she said on a rush of air.

“But what happens after we fuck again? You're not just someone I screw. I've known you since before you had boobs to shove in my face.”

Heat flushed her skin. Offended at the accusation, she snapped. “I've never done
that.”

He glanced down. Her blouse was professional, but enough buttons were undone to give him a great view at his angle.

“If I squint, I can see...” Vic said the words slowly, roughly.

He leaned in another inch. For a heartbeat, she thought he'd use his mouth—that he’d trail it down her collarbone until he could close his lips around one of her taut nipples. She wouldn't give in first and push them toward that. Couldn't, without losing respect for herself. He'd walked away first, and she damn sure wasn't going to crawl back to him.

“So what is it you want, Ash?”

His low, heated tone reminded her of every time he'd whispered in her ear. In that voice, he’d told her how wet and tight and good she felt around his dick.

The ache that had started in her nipples strummed through her limbs. “You've asked me that already, more than once.”

“And I kissed you.” He leaned in more, taking away that much-needed inch of space.

Ash caught a whiff of his musky aftershave. She wanted to curl into him, into the crook of his neck and get her fill.

A predatory gleam flashed in his eyes. “I kissed every inch of you.”

She bit her lip and his gaze caught on the movement. He inhaled deeply, but didn't move to take her mouth—to take
her
.

“You want me to be one of your hard dicks on standby, Ash?”

She gasped when those words hit. “I would never use you like that.”
Hadn't she?

“Then what do you want from me?”

Ash didn't know. This was all new for her. She usually went into a sexual relationship knowing exactly how things would end. Looking at Vic had always made her feel like she was falling into an abyss. Was there an end to them? But how could there be if they would never have a beginning?

“Vic—”

“You want me to be the guy who pushes you up against a wall and fucks you. Ask for it. Just get it out of your system.”

He was throwing her words back in her face, and still she wanted his hands, rough and urgent, pulling off her clothes. His hot and wet mouth on her skin, tasting her.

She could want those things and never get it again. That was his point.

“So you want me to say it and then what?” She inched forward. “The question is, Vic, can you get
me
out of your system?”

He jerked his head to the side. She couldn't be sure if he was annoyed or amused.

Victor said, “On the best of days you make me want to throttle you.”

What did that leave for the worst days? She wanted to know, but at the moment she was too busy egging him on as usual to find out. “Who is the violent one now?”

As close as they were, she could tell when his thoughts shifted to memories like her tugging his hair. All the times she'd gripped the strands.

She wasn't crazy. She wasn't alone. They were just trapped.

Vic pulled away, his scowl back in place. “Nope,” he said, “still not happening. I'll be by later today with the new extension cords.”

With that, he straightened and left her office. Since she'd get fired for throwing anything larger than a paperclip at her door, Ash tried to let their confrontation go with a deep breath. They had to be in each other's space. He'd claimed a corner as his and she should do the same.

But...
No buts.

She'd stay in her damn corner no matter how much she wanted—didn't matter. He'd left her home. He'd kept his word and hadn't touched her again, even though she'd baited him. This is what he—
they
wanted. They wouldn't hurt Porter any more than they already had. Didn't mean keeping their hands to themselves would be easy.

Victor had chosen the path to suffer until the bitter end. How could she blame him? No matter what happened, Porter would still be her brother. He'd love her, forgive her eventually. Vic didn't have the same option. Years and years of friendship should count as family just the same, but that was idealistic. Friendships were destroyed with less.

So screw it, if her skin still felt tight from their heated exchange and her office smelled like his musky aftershave. This was the right thing to do.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Vic took a much-needed lunch in his borrowed office. The place was bare of any decoration, but the huge desk would do for the time being. He certainly wouldn't begrudge the window that let in light. Sometimes companies stuck him in a room with servers as his only company.

He pulled out his sub sandwich piled with enough meat and vegetables that practically guaranteed to get all over the place, and then his personal laptop.

Would Ash be on her computer, too?

He'd slept around, dated, fell in and out of love, but his thoughts always went back to her. Ash was out of his reach—another constant and he should go on accordingly. There was no need for him to whine about it, but firm and constant reminders that touching her led to a certain death at Porter’s hands were encouraged.

Shit
.

Prom night had been the first hard reminder. That jackass Owen she’d dated back then had grinned like an idiot for pictures, looking like “I'm so about to score.”

Porter wanted to pound his face in. Wade had volunteered because Mrs. Hicks would have been so damn mad if Porter got his rented tux bloody. What were friends for, if not that?

Victor hadn’t been able to take his gaze off Ash. She showed more skin than dress, and wore pink, white, and silver heels that made her legs go on forever. His teenage self didn't have his adult self-control, and after a while, his date had noticed his wandering eyes. She’d ended up leaving him later at the dance for drooling over a sophomore. After that, Victor got better at being covert.

And now?

What could he possibly do to make the endless ache for her go away that didn't include a lobotomy? Telling Porter and letting his friend kill him dead would do the trick, but outside of that...

After a moment of consideration, he opened WoW. Following another second of frowning at his computer screen, he typed in AshThis into the “add a friend” section.

Took her about two seconds to accept. So, he of course had to say in a chat:

Armyof1: Didn't I just uninstall this game from your computer?

AshThis: Personal laptop. And didn't you just say you weren't going to talk to me anymore?

Armyof1: This isn't talking. This is gaming.

AshThis: -blank stare-

He laughed and could practically see her deadpan expression. Victor typed the beginning of a reply, and then stopped. What he was doing was dumb and reckless. He tried to dredge up his usual resolve, but he knew it was gone, just like he'd known after stepping into her office that his plans for ignoring her wouldn't work.

Her scent, her voice, her humor—they all coaxed him around to the other side of the wall he'd built to keep his feelings in check. And then he'd seen the hurt in her gaze. Maybe the hurt had always been there but he'd deadened himself to her. Now he couldn't, not when he knew what she looked liked after having been mussed by his mouth and hands.

What else was left? He hadn't tried being nice in twenty years, so he thought he'd give it a shot. At the very least, they could be cordial. Talking to her while in WoW was innocent. He didn't want to be a dick to her, and damn sure didn't want to be left alone with her again. This way was safe. He wouldn't see her, touch her, or do things he damn well shouldn't with her.

Another message from her came in:

AshThis: Any character you need to level?

Armyof1: I've got a lvl 30 Druid that needs some love.

AshThis: Sweet. 28 Warrior. Dungeon run? Wait a minute.

He sat back and then his cell phone vibrated on the desk. He clicked the speaker button. “What do you want, Ash?” he asked in his version of nice.

“I can't type messages and play at the same time. Not one of my super powers.”

“What are they?”

“What?”

“Your super powers?”

“I grew up with four overprotective, testosterone-laden brothers. I have a life outside of them that they know nothing about. When they get overzealous, I push them back. More importantly, I haven't killed any of them for getting overzealous. I'm sure there's more, but we're burning gaming time. ”

Funny and brazen to her very core. If she'd said that to his face, Victor would have kissed her. “Just four, though?”

“For the first five years I knew you, the only words you ever really said to me were, 'Where's Porter?'”

As a kid, he hadn’t had a sister, or any experience at all with anyone of the opposite sex who wasn't related to him so, yeah, Ash had terrified him.

She'd tried to roughhouse with the other guys until Porter booted her from their space. And, really, after “Hi,” what could he have said to a girl covered in pink who wore beads in her hair and a bright smile? The only logical thing a boy like him could do was ignore her.

Eventually, he had spoken to her. Waiting on Porter to come home, bumping into her at school, and seeing her around in general had all been unavoidable instances where words needed to be exchanged. And, he’d liked her. She tended to run in popular packs, but was a decent human who didn't shun someone because they didn't. Unlike some of the girls he knew, she could hold her own in a conversation without fawning or giggling at him. His insatiable lust for her hadn't come out of nowhere. It had taken years to build.

“Yeah,” he said. “Well...”

She laughed. “Do you ever feel guilty for all the cold shoulders you've given me over the years?”

He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable at the truth. “Yes.”

The way she sputtered, completely over-the-top, made him snort. She said, sounding scandalized, “Is that an apology? An apology from Victor I'm-so-hardcore-I-have-to-fuck-rocks Yang?”

He narrowed his eyes because that was an EOD tech saying. Who told her? He hadn't. “Maybe.”

“I'm all warm and fuzzy on the inside now.” Her tone was droll.

“Ash...”

“I might even give you a gift. How does a pet ferret sound? It'll go with your scowl. You can dress it in camo and its collar will be made of dog tags.”