Stephen
tilted his head to the side and studied the canvas before him. It didn’t make
any difference. The geometric shapes still didn’t align with the artist given
title of Day at the Beach. Sighing,
he glanced at his watch and wondered how much longer they would have to stay
for the sake of being polite. Aster had dragged him to this fundraiser and then
promptly disappeared with one of the artists. He couldn’t even recall what charity
this event was in support of.
In
many ways, Aster reminded him of his mother. She had a college degree but no
real ambition. She was content to fill her days with shopping, hobbies, clubs,
and various charities. The business their fathers had built together held no
interest for her. She was polite and always said and did the right things. Her
clothing and her views were all conservative. If she ever disagreed with anyone
about anything, she was too well mannered to voice an opposing opinion.
A
hand skimmed his shoulder and the nape of his neck, sending a shiver racing
down his spine. Ashley. Before he could stop himself, his eyes swept over her
body, missing nothing. She wore a glittering bright red cocktail dress that
stopped about five inches above her knees. A deep V displayed the plump
cinnamon curves of her breasts. Dragging his gaze back up to her face before he
could start drooling, he saw that she studied him with the same intensity,
desire darkening her brown irises. She ran the tip of her tongue over ruby red
lips so glossy that his cock jerked in his pants. She’d arranged her short hair
into curls that fell over her brow.
His
first instinct was to drag her off to a dark corner and discover if she wore a
bra beneath that slip of a dress. Instead, he cleared his throat, made sure his
jacket covered his hard on, and removed her hand from his shoulder. “Is this a
coincidence as well, Ash?”
“Sort
of.”
“What
does that mean?”
“What
do you want to hear?” she asked, her tone provocative.
He
refused to rise to the bait. “I’m here with Aster.”
She
nodded. “I expected as much.”
“Then
you know nothing is happening between us tonight.”
Her
lips curled up in a sexy grin that made him wish it could be otherwise. “Can’t
I simply enjoy your company?”
He
looked away from her. He’d always enjoyed being with her. It didn’t matter if
they were so tied up in studying for exams that they couldn’t speak or if they
were dancing on the beach during Spring Break, he’d just been happy to have her
at his side. Until she wasn’t anymore. And he’d thought she never would be
again. Losing her was like losing part of himself. God, how it had hurt.
“This
painting reminds me of the summer we rented the beach house in Florida,” she
said, bringing him back to the present. She’d shifted over to a more
traditional landscape of white sands dotted with colorful umbrellas and bikini
clad sunbathers.
He
read the title out loud, “Saturdays.”
He grunted. “I wonder if the titles are mixed up.” He gestured at the previous
painting.
Ashley
studied the red, blue, and white shapes. “Maybe not. I think it’s a kite.”
Stephen
grunted. She was probably right. She’d always been more creative than him. He
tended to view the world through a more constrictive lens. Ashley had a way of
opening him up to his emotions in a way that he’d found addictive before. When
she’d left, he’d closed the door to his feelings and built a brick wall in
front of it. He’d been a playboy when they had met. But none of the women
before her meant anything. They were conquests and thus, quickly forgotten.
He
recalled the first time he’d caught a glimpse of Ashley. He’d been surrounded
by friends and a few girls that hoped to be more. Ashley walked by, her eyes
glued to a notebook, barely paying attention to where she was going. He’d
stopped mid-sentence, captivated by her beauty. She’d never looked up. He’d
made excuses to his friends and tried to follow her, but he’d lost sight of her
in the crowd. When next he saw her, she was working in the local movie theater
and he hadn’t let the chance to introduce himself escape him. Ashley had been
less than welcoming, but his persistence wore her down. She’d been a sophomore
and he’d been a junior. Almost from the beginning, he knew that she was the
one. Other girls didn’t exist for him anymore. There was only Ashley.
Ashley
grabbed his hand and led him to another painting. “Oh, look at this one. It
reminds me of when you drove us through the Blue Ridge Mountains to watch the
leaves change colors. It’s beautiful.”
Stephen
tore his gaze from her face to glance at the painting. A tree-lined road
twisted up the side of a mountain. Colorful leaves in shades of gold, red, and
brown floated to the ground like large snowflakes.
“I
miss going for rides with you,” she said wistfully.
He
missed it, too. They used to just get in the car with no destination in mind
and ride. He didn’t do that anymore. Taking a drive out alone wasn’t as
appealing. Besides, he had work.
“Why
are you doing this?” he finally asked. He knew what he should do. Don’t
question this. Take his revenge and move on, but falling under her spell again
was a dangerous possibility that he couldn’t ignore.
She
looked up at him. Her honeyed skin glowed in this lighting. Her dark eyes were
mesmerizing and full of love. It was all he could do not to cover her full lips
with his own. “You know why,” she whispered. “You feel it, too.” She reached up
and stroked his jaw. “I could never stop loving you.”
“I
wish I could believe you,” he said before he could stop himself.
She
smiled. “You can. I never stopped believing in what we have. You’re the only
one for me.”
He
leaned into her touch for a fraction of a second before strengthening his
reserved and pulling away. “I should go.”
“In
a minute. I want your opinion on this painting I saw in the other room.”
He
knew it was just an excuse to keep him at her side. She trailed her fingers
down his shoulder to the palm of his hand before curling her palm beneath his.
She was at once submissive and seductive and he found he couldn’t find the
resolve to say no. Stephen resigned himself to fact that he would be fucking
Ashley sooner or later. He was powerless to resist. Only resignation had never
felt quite like this.
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