Tagged & Ashed(17)

I'm going to need a cold shower. Maybe she needs me to be blunt.

“I don’t get you. Why do you keep telling me no when it’s painfully clear you want to say yes?”

She smiles softly and then walks toward the door as I climb out from under the sheet and pull my pants back into place.

Her eyes flash down to my cock before it’s fully covered, and her cheeks burn with a crimson glow as I strut toward her.

“Stay, talk, enjoy a little bit of time with me, and if the moment arises, don’t freak out,” I soothe, treating her like a skittish cat backed in a corner.

“Sorry, Tag. Really, I am, but I can’t stay in here with you. Um, I’ll... I’ll see you later,” she hesitantly releases before darting out.

“Yeah, later,” I mumble to the vacant room before flopping back down to the bed.

I have to stop obsessing about this girl. I just begged her to stay and talk. I don’t beg - especially to talk.

Get a grip, Tag. She’s just a girl. Just a damn girl.

I wish I could convince myself of that. The truth is, I enjoyed last night. She snuggled up to me all night long. I've never done that with anyone. I've passed out after exhausting myself, and sometimes the girl crashed next to me, but it wasn't like what I did with Ash last night.

I don't know how this happened. Her rich wit and her sassy finesse keeps me on my toes, and I like it. Her disarming smile makes me dissolve, and when I'm with her, I'm not some dick trying to get lucky - well, not the way I usually am. I'm just... me.

It's refreshing.



***

Ashiara



Oh my damn.

I’ve spent an hour hiding out, and all I’ve been able to think about is Tag - or his lips on my body, rather. I'm a train wreck on steroids right now.

I have to stay away. Maybe if I go for a swim, it’ll clear my head.

I pull on my bikini, and then I slip on a pair of frayed jean shorts and a slinky top. Staring in the mirror, I start questioning my true intentions. Am I hoping to run into him while wearing something as slinky as this?

No. I need to clear my head.

Creeping past his bedroom, I head downstairs, which is silent. Maybe he went back to sleep, or even better, maybe he left.

“Looking for someone?” a playfully seductive voice chimes in to interrupt my thoughts, and I cringe as I slowly turn around.

Drat.

There he is - all of his perfection completely intact. He's smirking as he pops a slice of an apple in his mouth, drawing my eyes to those lips I know feel as incredible as they look. He has on a sleeveless shirt that shows his arms, shoulders, and a bit of his smooth chest.

I can tell those shorts hang low, even though his shirt hangs over the waistband. I pray his shirt stays on so I don’t have to see those mouthwatering hip lines again.

“Hungry?” he asks with a mischievous glare as he takes in my gaping, awestruck, ridiculous reaction to seeing him.

Very hungry - for all the wrong things.

Swallowing hard and pushing my jaw back into a respectable position, I murmur, “Yeah. A little.”

“I can have Eduardo whip you something up,” he says while moving to the phone in the front kitchen.

Eduardo’s kitchen is separate, enormous, and filled with fancy things I don’t even know how to turn on. Not to mention, the pantry in his kitchen is stocked with ingredients I’ve never even heard of. This one is more user friendly for the layperson such as myself.

“That’s okay. I’ll just have some cereal or something,” I force out while walking far away from him and heading to the cabinets.

“Cereal, huh? I thought you to be more of the muffin or bagel type,” he murmurs while watching me too intently.

“Are you saying it looks like I eat too many carbs?” I tease while opening one of the top cabinets.

I feel my shirt sliding up as I stretch to reach the box of bran, and his eyes fall on the smooth skin of my stomach.

“Not at all. You just don’t seem like a cereal girl.”

He swallows hard, suddenly not liking the game he started here in the kitchen as I lower my hands back down with the cereal in tow.

I grab the milk, a bowl, and a spoon before being a big girl and going to stand next to where he's sitting at the bar. As I toss together my breakfast, I decide to address his weird comment.

“What does a cereal girl look like?” I mock.

“Just... not like you. Going swimming?” he asks, changing the subject while clearing his throat.

“Huh?” I ask in confusion.

He reaches over and flicks my bikini-top strings that have crept out of the collar of my low-cut shirt.

“Oh,” I murmur softly. “Thought about it.”

“Me too,” he says while giving me his heart-stopping, carefree grin.

He pulls his shirt up to show the top of his swimming trunks peeking out above his shorts. Sadly, I can't even tell you what color they are, because I'm focused on the skin he just revealed - not the material.