Before I had time to think up another excuse to avoid his company, he grabbed my hand, pulled me to the kitchen table, and guided me into a chair. My first instinct was to fight him, yank my hand out of his grasp and tell him to go to hell, but the jolt of electricity that shot through my body when his skin touched mine kept me silent. Earlier when I was first introduced to Ash, I thought that my brain and body reacted the way they did because I was overly excited to finally be meeting members of the male species and it didn’t hurt that he was drop-dead gorgeous. However, after meeting all of the guys at the party and kissing Dylan tonight at the party, I knew our attraction/connection was different somehow.
“So . . . Sam?” he asked again, determined to make me explain.
“Okay, okay,” I began, “It’s really nothing. I have this weird dislike for nicknames, always have. I don’t mind calling other people nicknames if that’s what they prefer, but I’ve never liked to be called something other than my name.”
“Why?” Ash interrupted.
“I’m not sure really, I guess because I feel like they are overused and undervalued.”
He cocked his head at me as if he wanted me to continue.
“For example, look at the five of us in this house right now. Your full name is Ashton but the majority of people call you Ash. Evie is actually Evelyn, Jess is truly Jessica, and I’m assuming Meg is a Megan.
“The most common nicknames for people are a shortened version of their full name, like with the four of you. My name shortened is Scar,” I wrinkled my nose. “When most people hear Scar they either think of a physical marking associated with a bad memory and lots of pain or Simba’s evil uncle that had Mufasa killed so he could be the Lion King. Neither of those are really the image I’m going for.”
For the first time I heard Ash laugh a sincere, whole-hearted laugh, and it was a sweet, sweet sound in my ears that warmed my entire body.
“Other types of nicknames include those that are terms of endearment and those that are used to make fun of someone. It’s obvious why I don’t like the latter of the two, I’m not a hateful person and don’t want to make others feel bad about themselves. And as for all of the beautifuls, honeys, sugar pies, sweeties . . . believe me, I could go on for hours . . . I just hear it so much I feel like they’ve lost their meaning, ya know? People just call each other those names to have a nickname to call each other. I don’t know; I just don’t get it.
“So anyways, one day in junior high, Evie and I had this exact discussion that we are having now, and she made it her mission to find a nickname I would like. For over a week, she tried out different names on me . . . it must’ve been a thousand. When finally one day she was at my house looking at some school forms I had left on the table, and my initials S.A.M., Scarlett Alexandria MacGregor, were written across the top. By this point my resolve was weakening and I felt bad rejecting her suggestions day after day. So I agreed to Sam, with the one caveat being that she’s the only person that gets to call me that. And thus Sam, my evil alter ego was born,” I said as I finished the story.
“Well, I’m sorry . . . I mean, I’m glad I asked,” he teased.
“Oh shut up . . . I warned you it was long and boring!” I retorted. Then without thinking I leaned over and brushed back a strand of his hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. He caught my hand as I tried to pull it back and pressed my fingertips to his lips. I gasped at the sudden contact
“Come to bed with me, Scarlett?” his eyes pleaded with mine.
“Excuse me? Are you crazy?” I blurted out. Did I hear him correctly? Was he really asking me to have sex with him? And why was I actually considering it?
“No, no . . . not like that. I promise it won’t be like that,” he said running his fingers through his thick wavy hair in frustration. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
He looked at me and said earnestly, “I’m going to be blunt with you, Scarlett. I’m not sure what it is about you, but from the moment I saw you in the living room earlier tonight, I can’t get you out of my head.” He paused as he searched for what he wanted to say. “I don’t even know how to explain it; I’m pretty sure you feel something between us too, at least I hope you do. I just want to talk to you, get to know you. Look, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to touch you, to hold you close to me, but I’m not going to take advantage of you. I swear. I just want to lie down and be comfortable; we can stay on top the covers, draw a line down the middle of the bed . . . whatever. I just want to get as much of you as I can before you go home tomorrow so that maybe I can figure out what the hell it is you are doing to me.” He smiled, using those dimples to charm me. As if that was necessary. In my mind, I was already lying naked in his bed. “I know this sounds crazy, but please, come to my room with me?”
I was dumbfounded; I didn’t believe this kind of thing happened in real life. I never in a million years thought someone who looked like Ash would be saying those words to me hours after meeting, much less on my first night of my free life. It was like I was dreaming. There was never any chance I was going to say no to him and I was pretty sure he knew it too.
“Well since you said please . . .” I stood up and grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead me down the hall and into his room.
Ash’s bedroom looked pretty much like I expected a college-aged guy’s room to look. There was a full-sized bed that I was surprised to find neatly made with solid grey linens, a large wooden dresser that donned a framed picture of Ash with an older couple who I assumed were his parents, and a desk that held his laptop and textbooks. It was tidier than I had anticipated; there weren’t any stray clothes or shoes lying around. Thick light-blocking curtains hung over the one window in the room, but the walls were bare of any art or other decoration.
I wasn’t sure how long I had been standing there studying his room when I realized Ash was watching me. Not letting go of his hand, I turned to face him and was greeted by his devilish grin.
“Does it pass your inspection?” he teased. I looked at his mouth as he talked and unconsciously licked my lips, yearning to know how his mouth would feel against mine. He then moved his gaze to my mouth and cocked his eyebrows at me and smirked.
I could feel the warmth of the blush creep across my face and neck, mortified that I had not only been caught scrutinizing his personal living space but at my body’s obvious physical reaction to his proximity. I nodded and then lost the battle to contain my nervous giggles.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, not wanting to admit to him the reason I was so thoroughly inspecting his room was because this was the first time I had ever been in a guy’s room.
“Nothing, huh?”
The next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back in the center of Ash’s bed and he was tickling me relentlessly. I desperately tried to escape his assault, but my legs were trapped between his and he had both of my arms pinned above my head with one of his hands.
“I am not going to stop until you tell me why you think my room is so funny,” he said as he continued to torment me with his free hand.
“Okay, okay,” I managed to say when I finally stopped laughing long enough to catch my breath.
Ash stopped tickling me at my surrender but kept my body restrained under his. His mesmerizing eyes penetrated mine as he waited for my answer. For the first time I noticed a light sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Dimples and freckles . . . my two weaknesses—I was starting to wonder if he wasn’t made just for me. He was close enough that his scent, a mixture of clean refreshing soap and minty fresh toothpaste, flooded my nostrils and I clenched my legs together hoping to relieve the growing ache in my sex. His nearness made me lose complete control of my thoughts and physical reactions.
“I wasn’t laughing at your room,” I admitted. “I wasn’t really laughing at anything. It just struck me as comical that here I am, eighteen years old, starting college in a couple of days, and this is
the first guy’s room I’ve ever been inside except for my brother’s. You’ve probably had more girls in here than . . . well, I don’t have any idea how many, but . . .” I turned my head away from him humiliated again at my inexperience.
“Hey, please don’t turn away from me,” Ash said softly as he used his hand to turn my chin so I was looking in his eyes once again. I willed my tears back as they threatened to pool in my eyes; I was NOT going to cry. What in the hell was wrong with me? I went from laughing hysterically one minute to crying the next. I was a mess.
“There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed,” he continued. His hand moved from beneath my chin to my cheek where he gently stroked back and forth with his thumb.
“You are breathtakingly beautiful, incredibly talented, obviously intelligent, and when I look into your eyes I see the most pure, untainted soul of anyone I have ever met. Your innocence and inexperience only increases your sexiness and sensuality. You, Scarlett Alexandria MacGregor, truly are an enigma.”
The thumb that had been caressing my cheek moved to my bottom lip and I instinctively opened my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip of his thumb, tasting his sweet flesh, before drawing it into my mouth and sucking on it. Ash inhaled deeply and his eyes darkened to a stormy blue. He broke our stare and shifted his desire-filled gaze to my mouth, watching me provocatively play with his thumb—licking, sucking, biting.
Without removing his hand from my mouth, Ash leaned his face to mine and seared my lips with his. His lips were neither soft nor rough, they were just perfect, there was no other way to describe it. Our lips fit together as if they were made for one another, our tongues danced as if they had been partners for years. For what seemed like forever, we kissed and licked and nipped at each other’s mouths, exploring and devouring. His hands tangled in my dark hair and every so often he would lightly tug on it, forcing me to tilt my head back so he could kiss across my jawline and down my neck. He pulled my hair with more force and I experienced a stimulating mixture of pain and pleasure, which caused a moan to escape from the back of my throat. I hadn’t been kissed many times in my life, but I knew instantly that nothing would ever compare to this first kiss that I shared with Ash.
Disappointment washed over me as I felt him withdraw from my mouth. He rolled over so he was no longer on top of me but instead sitting next to me on the bed. Immediately, my body craved to be pressed up against his again.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. I noticed he did that often when he was either frustrated or at a loss for words.
“I swore that I wouldn’t do that, and look at me—we haven’t even been in here ten minutes and I’m already breaking that promise.” He looked over at me guiltily.
“It’s okay. Please don’t say you’re sorry,” I confessed with a sheepish smile. “It’s not like I wasn’t a willing participant. I wanted that as much as you did.” Probably even more so, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“Come over here,” he said, returning my smile as he pulled me into his arms. “Let’s lay down. It’s after 4:00 in the morning and I’m keeping you from getting any sleep. We will have other nights to talk.”
He positioned us so that we were in the spooning position, my back tucked up snugly against his chest and his right arm draped across my middle. He peppered kisses up and down my neck, from my earlobe to my shoulder and then back again. I forced myself to stop over-analyzing the situation, overwhelmed at the onslaught of emotions, and enjoyed the moment for what it was.
“So soft, so sweet. My little butterfly. My beautiful Psyche.” Ash murmured as he nuzzled his face in the nape of my neck. I had found heaven. I didn’t really know what he was talking about or what he had called me, but nothing could ruin my perfect night. That was the last thought I remembered having before I drifted into a blissful sleep.
I woke up the following morning feeling happier than I could remember being—ever. Ash’s arms were still tightly wrapped around my waist, our legs tangled together, and I could feel his morning-induced erection pressed against my back. I rolled over so that I was facing him, hoping he stayed in his vulnerable state of sleep so that I could better study him, but his eyes were wide open and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips when I looked at him.
“Good afternoon, butterfly,” he whispered, brushing my hair back from my face.
“Good afternoon?” I asked still ignoring the nickname.
“Yeah, it’s a little after 2:00. I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so comfortable, so peaceful.”
“Mmmm . . . thank you. I did sleep quite well.”
I scooted closer to him and rested my cheek on his chest. Ash held me securely against his body and kissed the top of my head. I felt him take a deep breath as if he was gathering the courage to say something, but he remained silent. We lay like that for several minutes, as if we were both committing the moment to memory, never wanting to forget the night we had spent together.
“What’s wrong?” I asked quietly. “I know you want to say something, and from your hesitation, I’m guessing it’s not something I want to hear.”
His body tensed at my words and I pulled away from him slightly so I could look up to his face. His jaw pulsed as he clenched his teeth. I touched his face, much like he had done to me the night before, rubbing my fingers delicately across his cheeks, hoping to relax his uneasiness.
“Scarlett, I . . . we . . .” he stammered, still unable to get the words out.
“Just say it, Ash,” I demanded.
“We can’t do this . . . I can’t do this with you,” he began as my stomach tightened. “As much as I would love to, I just can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
I gave him a puzzled look not understanding what had happened, what had gone wrong.
“Look Scarlett, you are about to go through this crucial transition in your life, changing from the sheltered girl you were under your parents control, to a beautiful young woman that’s ready to spread her wings and fly. Because you haven’t experienced many of the things that most people our age have, you, more than anyone, need this time to find out who you are and what you want. What you don’t need is me around to complicate things,” he explained.
“Why do you think you would complicate things?” I interrupted. I could feel the lump forming in my throat and I desperately tried to keep myself from crying. Dealing with rejection wasn’t something I had ever had to deal with, and boy did it suck ass.
“Because I know me,” he said truthfully. “I’m not boyfriend material, Scarlett. That’s just not who I am right now. I would end up hurting you or holding you back, and I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I did either of those things to you. I meant the things I said to you last night, more than you can ever know. You are, by far, the most incredible person I have ever met and I haven’t even known you 24 hours. I can’t even put into words how in awe I am of you.”
He continued, “I would love to say ‘Let’s be friends,’ but if I’m being completely honest, I know that there’s no way that I can be around you and not want to touch you . . . to hold you . . . to keep you as mine. And that’s not fair to either of us.”
Not knowing what to say, I just nodded my head and buried my face back into his chest. I truly believed that Ash thought he was doing the best thing for me because he sincerely wanted me to be happy. I felt silly for crying over someone I had known less than a day, I mean how emotionally attached could I have been? But the hurt was there nonetheless.
Drawing away from his chest, I looked into his eyes. He tenderly caressed my face and then cupped the back of my head and pulled my mouth to his. For one last time, we succumbed to the undeniable magnetism between the two of us. My first goodbye kiss was bittersweet in every sense of the word—a moment in time I would never ever forget.
“Goodbye, my sweet butterfly,” he whispered into my hair as he held me in a final embrace.
When I finally left Ash’s room, I found Evie in the
living room curled up on the couch, engrossed in her e-reader. She looked up as I walked in the room and cocked her eyebrows at me inquisitively.
“Well, I would say ‘good morning, sunshine’ except that it’s almost time for dinner and you would get all pissy about the ‘sunshine’ thing,” she said, clearly not happy with me. I shook my head at her and gave her the “please-not-now” look.
“Where’s Jess?” I asked hoping to redirect her thoughts. “What are you reading?”
“Jess is at work and I’m reading Taking Chances; I’m at 38% and it’s getting really good. You should read it, I think you’ll really be able to relate to this one,” she said with apparent irritation in her tone.
I ignored her attempted dig, I wasn’t even sure what she was referencing. “I was going to start that one this weekend, I saw that it got really good reviews. Why do you say that I’ll be able to relate?”
“Oh you’ll see,” she smirked as she stood up and stretched her petite body, uncoiling it as if she hadn’t moved for hours. “Come on, get your stuff, I’m ready to go back to our place.”
After I collected my things from Jess’s room, we jumped in Evie’s car and headed the short distance back to our place. The first few minutes we didn’t say a word to one another. I wasn’t sure why she was so pissed off at me to be quite honest, and of all times in my life, I really needed her support at that moment. I was an emotional basket case.
Evie broke the silence. “So are you going to tell me what happened last night, or are you just going to let me assume the worst?”
“I . . . I . . . I don’t know what happened. I’m a mess.” I said putting my face in my hands and shaking my head.
“Oh-kay. Well, let me start the story for you, tell you the parts that I know, then you can finish it and correct me if I’m wrong,” she offered.
Without waiting for a response from me she began recapping the events of the night before. “Last night, we went to Jess’s house where we met her roommates Meg and Ash. You and Ash eye-fucked each other up until the point we got to the party, which is where you and I discussed you not getting involved with him. You then met and made out with Dylan, a hottie who seemed like a pretty nice guy, that was clearly into you and only you. Meanwhile there was Ash, who had not just one, but two whore bags that hung all over him and suck faced with him all night. Everything seemed to be going great up until the point you and Ash decided to make the jam session a contest on whose song’s lyrics could piss the other off more.”