Written on My Heart Page 17

  I scoop a cup of kibble into Hank’s bowl and he eagerly shoves his face into the food.

  I set the container aside, and Lane moves toward me, his jaw tight and shoulders rigid. Electricity pulses between us, prickling my skin and tightening things deep inside me. The look in his eyes is all heat and desire.

  He stops in front of me, close enough to touch me, but he doesn’t. “Last night I was yours,” he says, voice husky. “Tonight I want you to be mine. But I want your permission first.”

  My throat constricts, and I lick my suddenly dry lips. “What does that mean?”

  “Someone hurt you, Ash. Someone broke you and your trust. I want to prove you can trust me. But in order to do that…” He unbuckles his belt and yanks it free from his jeans. The sound of leather sliding against fabric makes me shiver. “You need to give yourself to me. Completely.”

  Holy fuck. “And how do I do that?”

  He takes a step toward me. “If you agree, you’re going to do everything I say. If things become too intense, tell me to stop, and I will. Now, do you trust me?”

  The rush of excitement outweighs my fear, and I nod.

  He smiles. “Take your clothes off.”

  “What?” I give a nervous laugh, but Lane’s expression doesn’t waver. He’s clearly not joking.

  “Take your clothes off,” he repeats. He folds his belt in half and snaps the leather, making me gasp.

  My pulse jumps in my throat, and I grab the hem of my shirt. I can’t deny the need to be with Lane, the ache throbbing low within me. There’s something dangerous about the way he’s watching at me, like he wants to devour me whole. The look in his eyes sends tremors down my spine.

  I twist my hands into the fabric of my shirt, stretching it. “You promise you’ll stop if I ask you to?”

  “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do. I want you to trust me.”

  And I do, I realize, as I slowly pull my shirt over my head. Lane has done nothing but protect me since the moment we met, which is more than my own parent has done. I trust him more than anyone in the world.

  “Pants.” The way Lane says the word, it practically comes out a growl.

  I kick my shoes off and unbutton my jeans with trembling fingers. I’ve never stripped in front of a guy before, and I’m sure I look awkward—all fumbling fingers and shaking limbs. Not to mention my lingerie is a ridiculous combination of plain tan bra and white cotton panties. God, to have the money to buy real lingerie.

  “Stop.”

  Too late. My jeans fall to my ankles. I look up at Lane to ask why he stopped me. Maybe he thinks I look stupid, too. But instead of finding a look of disgust, his eyes sweep over my body and he makes a sound low in his throat.

  “God, you’re sexy,” he says.

  I frown. “But you said to stop.”

  “Yes.” He walks toward me and my body practically hums with excitement. “You’re so damn readable. Whatever thoughts you’re thinking about yourself, I want you to stop. You’re beautiful, Ash. In fact, it’s killing me not to rip off your underwear and take you right now.”

  My cheeks burn with a flush, and I look away.

  To my surprise, Lane walks by me and grabs the back of a wooden chair. He swings it away from the small kitchen table and gestures to it. “Sit.”

  “Why?”

  “No questions. In fact, unless you’re going to tell me to stop, I don’t want you to speak at all. You are not going to overanalyze this, Ash. You’re mine tonight, remember? That means I don’t just want your body, but I want your trust, too. Do you understand?”

  I nod. My body’s reaction to his demand is unexpected. The thrill of this new game sends my heart ricocheting against my ribs. No man has ever looked at me the way Lane is now, like I’m something desirable, something of worth. And he wants me—I can see the hunger in his eyes. All my life, men have wanted to control and use me. Lane wants me exactly as I am, and has even given me the right to refuse him. No one’s ever done that for me before. Even if he’s giving the orders, I still hold the power to end it. Having the safety of a way out has made Lane’s game even more exciting.

  I walk to the chair. My nerves hum liked plucked guitar strings. Slowly, I turn and sit, leaving Lane standing behind me.

  “Say it.” The warmth of his breath against my neck startles me, and I shiver. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  I arch my neck as a ripple of goose bumps washes across my skin. I try to do what Lane’s asked me to do, to clear my head of any thoughts of tomorrow or the future, to just be in this moment and exist in a world where there is only me and Lane. “I’m yours.”

  He grabs my hands and pulls them behind the chair. Before I realize what he’s going to do, he loops his belt around my wrists and fastens them to the wooden rod at my back.

  I inhale sharply as my pulse races. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I pull against my restraints but they hold firm. Panic tightens my throat. At the old house, I was locked inside my room for the slightest infraction, forgotten for hours on end. How easy it would be for Lane to leave me tied up like this, alone, in a place where no one would come to look for me.

  No sooner does a whimper escape my lips than Lane is in front of me, kneeling. He touches my face with his hand. “Ash, don’t panic. We’ll stop the second you tell me to. You’re in control.”

  You’re in control. His words swirl inside my head, and my pulse returns to a normal rhythm. I nod.

  He smiles. “Good. Let me prove it to you. Let go. Just for the night. You can give yourself to me, and I won’t hurt you.” The smile melts from his lips, and his hands slide up my thighs, igniting sparks beneath my skin. “I’ll never hurt you.”

  He leans forward and kisses the skin above my knee. His lips are like the brush of a feather dusting along my inner thigh, leaving delicious flashes of pleasure in their wake. His kisses build a fire between my legs that grows the farther he climbs, until he’s licking the skin along the edge of my panties and I’m squirming from the ache he’s built inside me.

  He hooks his fingers beneath the band of my panties and slides them off my hips all the way to my ankles. Heat blazes through my cheeks. Despite our already having slept together, a sudden shyness comes over me. I’ve never had a guy look at me the way Lane is now. I’m not sure what he’s used to, or if I measure up. I try to keep things as trim as I can, but it’s not like a homeless girl can afford a wax.

  As if hearing my thoughts, his eyes flick to mine. “You’re gorgeous.”

  I open my mouth to argue but he silences me with a grunt. “No talking, unless you want me to stop.” He arches an eyebrow. “Do you?” He slides his hands back up my legs and digs his fingers into my hips, pulling me, and the chair, toward him, claiming me.

  I shake my head. Sure, I’m scared, but stopping is the last thing I want.

  He leans forward and every muscle in my body tenses. I’ve never been kissed there, and I have no idea what to expect. The first flick of his tongue rips a gasp from my throat. The second flutters my eyelids as a ripple of pleasure washes out from my center, rolling all the way to the top of my scalp. The next arches my back, making me buck against the chair. Lane only tightens his grips and pulls me closer.

  I moan and dip my head back. The sweetness of the pressure building inside me is almost too much to bear. As the heat between us continues to build, I can no longer tell where I end and Lane begins. Every nerve in my body is alive with fire, burning hotter and hotter and hotter, filling every inch beneath my skin with flame. And just when I think the fire will spill out of me, Lane stops and leans back.

  “Tell me you want me.”

  I blink, forcing my swimming vision back into focus. I expect to find Lane watching me with the same hungry expression he wore only seconds ago. But I don’t. Instead, there’s a softness to his eyes, a vulnerability I hadn’t noticed earlier.

  “I want to hear you say it,” he says.

  No. I sit as
straight as my restraints allow. It’s not want that fills his eyes with desperation, but need. I can see the yearning written across his face. He said he tied me to the chair to prove I could trust him, but what if the real reason isn’t so simple? What if he’s trying to convince himself he can trust me?

  Maybe I’m not the only one who’s been hurt before.

  “I want you, Lane.” And I’m not just talking about the building ache between my legs. Sure, he’s a little gruff on the outside, but soft as a kitten on the inside. He’s fiercely protective of his sister, and compassionate enough to offer help to a homeless girl without expecting anything in return. How could I not fall for him? I want to call him mine and to fall into his arms whenever I’ve had a bad day. I want to spend mornings in bed lazily tracing circles across his chest with my finger, and I want to spend nights tangled with him in the sheets.

  But with me leaving soon and his mysterious relationship with Harper, that’ll never happen. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to take advantage of the time I have left with him.

  He stands suddenly.

  A flicker of panic courses through me. “Where are you going?”

  “Condom.”

  Oh, thank God. I settle back into the chair. I’m not sure how much more teasing I could take.

  After retrieving a condom from my purse, he steps around the chair and unfastens my arms from the back rungs. But, instead of freeing me, he ties my wrists together in front of me. “You’re not getting away from me,” he says, smiling. “At least, not tonight.” His smile wavers slightly, and I feel a tug in my heart.

  “Of course. I’m yours tonight. I promised.”

  His smile returns. He twists his fingers into the hem of his shirt and whips it over his head. Just like the night before, the sight of him bare chested takes my breath away. He’s muscle and ink, a work of art for both my eyes and fingers to enjoy. I reach for him but he snatches my bound wrists and slips them over his head, tying me to him.

  The warmth of his skin against mine makes me dizzy with desire. The hardness held back by his jeans presses against my navel, making me wiggle against him, yearning for him to move lower.

  He laughs softly, dropping his hands to unbutton his jeans. The anticipation is too much, and I hold my breath. If my hands were free, I’d pull him out myself. He seems to like watching me squirm and takes his sweet time taking off his jeans. Locked this close to him, I can’t see what’s going on, but I can tell the instant the velvet length of him pushes between my legs, hovering just outside of me.

  I whimper. Every cell in my body is on the verge of bursting. If he doesn’t take me soon, I’m sure I’ll explode. I shift my hips, trying to give him an angle to enter, but he only backs away. “Wait just a sec.” He moves his hands behind my back and I hear the crinkle of a cellophane package. A second later, he moves his hands between us and his cock is back, pressing between my legs, only this time it’s slick from the lubricated condom.

  He thrust his hips forward, the length of him sliding between my folds and pressing against the raw button of nerve that makes me cry out as my legs buckle.

  My pulse crashes inside my head like a wave as electricity surges through me. “Lane.” My voice is breathless. “I can’t hold on much longer. Please. Now.”

  He smirks and pulls me backward, until his legs meet the back of the chair. He sits so I’m standing between his legs, my arms still locked around his neck. “Show me how bad you want me. Ride me.”

  I pause for just a second. This will be another first for me, but if it’s as fun as the last thing we tried—and it certainly looks to be—I’m game.

  I move my legs so I’m straddling his and inch myself forward until the tip of his cock meets the sweet spot just above my opening, and my eyelids flutter. “Holy fuck,” I gasp.

  He laughs. “We haven’t even got to the good part yet.” Before I can respond, he grabs my hips and thrusts me down, onto his lap.

  I cry out as his dick fills every inch of me, hitting a spot below my navel that’s never been touched before, a spot that makes fireworks explode in the darkness behind my closed eyes. A rolling a wave of spasms reaches all the way to my fingers and toes. When I catch my breath I ask, “What the hell was that?”

  Lane arches his neck and answers with a groan. “God, Ash, you’re killing me.”

  He pulls harder at my hips, burying himself deeper than I thought possible. I cry out and rock forward, before sliding back down. A sweet pressure builds between my legs, growing each time he pulls me to him. The pleasure comes from everywhere—from my breasts gliding along his chest, to the mass of nerves between my legs grinding against his pelvis, to the soft sweet spot inside me that pulses each time the head of him crashes into it.

  Just as I’m on the verge, Lane grabs my bra and pulls it down so my breasts spill over the fabric. He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, eliciting a gasp from my throat.

  “Lane…” I’m so close, and if he keeps it up I won’t be able to stop myself. He bites onto my nipple but instead of pain, a flash of pleasure winds all the way down between my legs and pushes me over the edge.

  I buck my hips and cry out as the first swell rolls through me in a rush of honey and heat.

  Lane grabs my shoulders and slams my body against him, hitting the sweet spot harder and harder, intensifying each spasm. I arch my back and curl my fingers. Every inch of me is electrified as wave after wave of velvety heat rocks through me.

  Even as the last ripple rolls through me, I keep riding Lane’s hips, until he gasps and I feel him shudder between my legs, the condom suddenly warmer than it was moments before. Lane’s grip on my shoulders loosens, but he continues to rock me, over and over, until the heavy pulse of him dies to a soft throb.

  Finally, his fingers trail down my arms, and his thrusting stops. He grows soft inside me, but I’m not ready to be free, so I make no move to let him go.

  Lane shakes his head, his face flushed. “Holy fuck, that was amazing.” His eyes meet mine. “You are incredible.”

  I can’t help but smile. Chris would climb on top of me, grunt, thrust, and then fall asleep directly after, not exactly an ego boost. But Lane is different. He makes me feel sexy, special even.

  Carefully, he lifts my hands over his head and unwinds his belt, releasing me. I start to stand when he catches my face and pulls me toward him. He kisses me. Unlike our other kisses, this one is a sweet brush of satin followed by the barest flick of his tongue against my bottom lip. I shudder happily.

  Still holding my face in his hands, he pulls back. “Have you eaten, yet?”

  I blink, a little taken aback by the question. “I think you’re confused. You’re supposed to buy the girl dinner before having sex.”

  He frowns. “Have you eaten dinner?”

  I have to think for a moment. The last thing I had was the cake pop around lunchtime. “No.”

  He grabs my hips and gently slides me off his lap. “Get dressed. I’m taking you out. The only places open this time of night are diners, so our options are pretty limited.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I have plenty of food here.” Food you bought me, I remind myself. “I can make a sandwich.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Get dressed.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “That’s silly. We can save money by eating here.”

  “It’s not silly. You deserve to go out.”

  “Lane.”

  “Did you or did you not agree to be mine for the night?”

  Slowly, I nod.

  He picks up my panties off the floor and hands them to me. “Then I’m taking you out.” I start to argue and he silences me with the wave of his hand. “Here’s one thing you need to know about me, Ash: I always take care of what’s mine. And for tonight, you’re mine. And then maybe, when we get back, I’ll take care of you again.” He winks at me as he slides his belt through the loops of his jeans.

  Immediately, the tightness between my legs returns.
“Really?”

  He grins. “Well, the night’s not over yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ashlyn

  Beginnings

  Dissolving the things that came before

  Leaving old paths for new

  Washing stains white

  Beginnings, we’re told, are where we’ll find hope

  What they don’t tell us is that beginnings are really endings in disguise.

  I bite the cap of my pen, already worn with teeth marks, and reread the words of the poem I just finished. A few more and I’ll actually have enough for an entire book of poetry. And when that happens I’ll…

  Try and get published? A lump pushes up my throat at the prospect of people actually reading the words that have been bleeding from my heart these last months. What if they hate them? What if this whole poetry thing is one more failure waiting to happen?

  The early fall air is warm, and a breeze rustles through the curtains, tickling the hairs around my neck that have fallen loose from my ponytail. I set my notebook aside and lean my head against the worn couch, and enjoy the wind grazing my face. Despite my protests, Lane replaced the leaking air conditioner that only blew lukewarm air with a brand new unit. The prickly warm nights are nowhere near as uncomfortable as the feeling of being trapped. Besides, the nights have grown cooler in the days I’ve lived here, hinting at the season change just around the corner.

  Normally I’d be excited. Between spiced pumpkin lattes, sweaters, and changing leaves, fall has always been one of my favorite seasons in the Midwest. Only now, I won’t be here to experience it.

  And fall isn’t the only thing I’ll miss.

  My gaze drifts to the unmade bed in the corner. A shiver jolts down my spine as the memories of last night’s lovemaking with Lane rush to the front of my mind. His hands pinning my wrists to the mattress, his teeth on my neck, and his skin salty on my tongue. The images come faster and my temperature spikes. The memories make my head spin and I snatch my notebook before I forget a single detail.